#I should stop hiding in the bathroom and go back to actually doing shit

[munson-blurbs]

Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend gets a lot more than he bargained for when he walks in on you wearing only your Hellfire Club t-shirt.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), dry humping, thigh riding, cumming in pants

WC: 1.2k

A/N: Reader is described as wearing an oversized Hellfire t-shirt. This is her shirt, not Eddie's. There is no indication of her size whatsoever.

--

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Your toothbrush is clenched in your hand, but instead of cleaning your teeth, it serves as a microphone while you dance around your bedroom. The stereo is playing loudly; you can’t even hear the creaking staircase floorboards over the music. 

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love’s gone be—AAAAH!

Your palm flies to your chest when you see Eddie standing in your doorway, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“And here I thought I was the rockstar in this friendship,” he smirks, arms folded across his chest. 

Your heart rate slowly returns back to a pace that won’t send you to an early grave. “Jesus, Eddie! What are you doing here?”

“Figured I’d stop by,” he replies nonchalantly. “Y’know, you probably shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked while your folks aren’t home. Anyone could walk in off the street.” He flops onto your bed with an exaggerated exhale, looking pointedly in your direction. “Nice pants, by the way.”

Nice pants? You’re ready to sleep; an oversized Hellfire tee serving as your pajamas. You’re not even wearing—oh. 

You tug at the hem, but even after years of wear, it doesn’t stretch below your thighs. Heat blooms in your face. “Yeah, well,” you sputter, “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Eddie pouts. “You mean you didn’t wear that ‘specially for little ol’ me?” He ducks as you hurl your toothbrush at his head. He opens his mouth to say something before quickly clamping it shut, but not before you notice. 

“What?”

“N-Nothing.”

You cross your arms, more firm this time. “What?!”

“When you, uh, threw the toothbrush…your shirt…” His face turns bright red as he scrambles to explain. “…it, uh, kinda rode up.” His Adam’s apple bobs nervously. 

“It’s just underwear. You’ve seen me in a swimsuit before.” You try to hide your own embarrassment, playing it off coolly, but all you can think about is the fact that Eddie Munson saw your panties. 

He nods, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Right, yeah. Totally the same thing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I should get going.” He pushes on his knees, starting to stand up, but abruptly stops. “Actually, um, maybe I’ll hang out here for a bit, if you wanna maybe put…put something else on.” Pink embarrassment blooms in his cheeks, spreading down his neck. 

“No, I’m going to bed, and you’re leaving. We can get breakfast tomorrow morning or something.” You sigh when he doesn’t move, making your way to where he’s sitting. “C’mon, time to—”

Eddie attempts to hunch himself over, but there’s no hiding the hardening bulge straining behind his zipper. 

It’s only natural, you tell yourself. He’s a twenty-year-old guy; he’ll get a boner if the wind blows the wrong way. It doesn’t mean he’s into you. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. This is super weird, and I shouldn’t have come in without knocking.” He buries his head in his hands. “Just…give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Now’s your chance. If there’s any time to find out if he’s into you, it’s when he’s sporting a stiffie in your bedroom. “Or…I could help you with it?”

His head whips around so fast that his curls are a blur of brown. “Wh-What? Like, help me…?” He’s desperate for you to finish his sentence, not wanting to say something that makes the situation even more awkward. 

“I can help you get off. If you want. Or you can just use my bathroom and, I dunno, rub one out.” You cringe at the phrasing. “No pressure.”

“Um, yeah. No pressure.” His thumbs circle each other, an anxious habit he’s had for years. “So if you were gonna help me out, what would that look like?”

You shrug, a half-smile gracing your lips. “I guess I’d do this first.” You place one hand on each of his shoulders, straddling his waist with your bare thighs. “And then I’d kiss you?”

“Mhm, please.” Eddie grips your hips as you lean in, mouths finding one another in unhurried splendor. He tastes like stale Camels and spearmint gum, only breaking the connection to trail his lips down your neck. 

It’s your favorite spot to be kissed, and the way his teeth nip at your flesh, tongue gliding over the mark as though sealing it in, has you grinding down on him. 

“Christ, honey,” he breathes, “you look so goddamn perfect like this.” His fingertips dig into your asscheeks possessively before one hand snakes its way up your shirt. You expect him to lift it above your head to expose your breasts, but he doesn’t. 

“Y-You can take it off,” you stammer, feeling silly as you say it aloud. 

Eddie shakes his head in refusal. “Next time.” Next time. It’s a promise you hope he’ll keep. “I just love the way you look in this shirt.” And nothing but this shirt, he thinks to himself. 

The friction of your cotton panties on his denim pants is delectable, providing just enough pressure to your aching clit. You’re greedy in your movements but make sure to give him what he needs, too. Your pussy rubs against his clothed cock; Eddie uses the hand on your ass to help guide your hips. 

“Thassit, oh, fuck,” he grunts, teased with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Right there, baby. Ohmygod, I’m gonna cum in my fuckin’ pants.”

“S’okay,” you murmur into his ear, gently biting the lobe, “‘m close, too. So close, holy shit.”

Sweat beads along his upper lip, his groans more needy and guttural. “‘M coming, ‘m coming, ‘m coming.” He babbles pathetically as sticky, wet warmth floods his boxers. You follow his lead, finishing on his somehow still-hard cock. 

The immediate aftermath is filled with panting breaths and sporadic giggles as the pleasure high fades and reality sets in. 

“Did we just—” Eddie starts, eyes wide in disbelief. 

You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “Mhm. We sure did.”

He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy from perspiration and activity. “So, um, what do we do now?” There are many unspoken questions woven into it. What does this mean for our friendship? Do we even have a friendship anymore? Was it as good for you as it was for me?

“Well…” You sit up a bit straighter, toying with the chain of his guitar pick necklace. “We can throw your stuff in the wash, and maybe while we’re waiting, we can get started on that next time you’d mentioned earlier?”

Eddie grins, kissing you with a fervor like you’ve never seen. “What are we waiting for?” He tugs off his pants and boxers, unashamed of the way he’s painted them with cum. When he notices you staring, he winks. “‘S a lot, isn’t it? Imagine how much it’ll be when I’m actually inside you.”

It doesn’t take long for either of you to find out.  

--

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #smut

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 4

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Summary: The truth is out. Will you see Jake again? Is Moon Knight back in business?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, (Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to alcoholism and recovery, cursing, a little bit of voice-raising I guess, some arguing, some touching/grabbing but no one is getting hurt i promise. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions.

“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”

Resting his forehead against yours, (Marc) rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”

It occurred to you, over the next two nights, that perhaps you were a heavy sleeper. 

Marc and Steven had a little heart-to-heart about “that bloody stupid pigeon” - Steven’s words, obviously. Steven made it to class and to his university library shifts. Marc’s two years of hard work and sobriety paid off, because he was now equipped with a wonderful support system - you, Steven, a close friend of his, and he even called his old sponsor. 

Then he attended a meeting (his idea). It was also his idea for Steven to keep his normal schedule. Marc felt guilty enough for getting Steven fired from the museum those years ago. (That, plus all the secrets.) So he changed his mind about hiding out in the flat with you. Routine was key. Routine and communication. 

You were so proud of your guys, but there were still a couple of glaring issues: Jake and the bloody stupid pigeon. 

Three nights after you first met Jake, you were determined to talk to him again. Marc had tried, Steven had tried, but Jake was used to operating completely alone. You got the feeling that this alter rarely did one damn thing he didn’t want to do. 

So you set three of the loudest, most blaring alarm sounds to go off on your phone - one at 2am, 3am and 4. You warned Marc and Steven, of course. In the event that Jake fell asleep, one of them would most likely wake up. Or Jake might not even front that night. 

But in case he did, you wanted to be awake for it. The alarm wasn’t for him anyway. It was because you had apparently slept through Jake’s entire existence, and you would never get to know him if things went on this way. You had to try.

So, tonight you made the effort to sleep in actual pajamas - black satin ones - a gift from Steven, instead of one of Marc’s comfy undershirts. The outfit wasn’t particularly revealing - you weren’t trying to seduce anyone, you just wanted to look a little more presentable than the worried, frantic mess from the first night you met Jake. 

Exhaustion overtook you easily and you did fall into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake by your blaring 2am alarm, which scared the shit out of you. This could possibly be your worst idea ever. But you quickly realized, while trying to calm the hammering of your heart, that your fiancé was not in bed with you. 

Sitting up and pushing off the bed, you trudged to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face before checking the apartment for signs of life. Nothing. 

So you waited. 

You were alllmost back to sleep when he arrived - through the damn window, again. 

Sitting up, you flipped on the bedside lamp, just as he pulled his flat cap from his head and raked his fingers through his lustrous, chocolate waves. Sporting what you were starting to believe was his signature look - this alter carried himself with a self-assurance you had never seen from your fiancé. 

His expensive but worn leather jacket stopped at his waist, meeting well-fitting, sleek black pants. The same crisp, white shirt and dark tie, along with black, leather driving gloves completed his style. These weren’t clothes off a rack - they were tailored to fit him perfectly. He had chosen his look for a purpose...you assumed. 

“Jake?” you softly greeted, easing off the bed. 

Warm brown eyes stared at you, flashing as if momentarily caught off guard, before he pulled at the fingers of his gloves, just like he had done the first night.

“Go back to bed, cariño,” he implored, his voice rich, alluring, and much deeper than Steven’s. “It’s late, you should sleep,” he added, forcing himself to look away from the black satin draping itself over your body. 

“I don’t respond well to orders,” you nonchalantly replied, easing toward him. “I was waiting for you.”

Clenching both of his removed gloves in one hand, he stopped and turned to glare at you. “Why?”

“Why not?” you shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night. I was worried.”

He scoffed. Dropping his gloves, he peeled off his leather jacket, turning his back to you. “Well, don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“Apparently not,” you shot back, reaching down to gather his discarded hat, gloves and jacket, domestically picking up after him, as if it were completely natural to you. “Not since Marc woke up in an alley the other night, in the Moon Knight suit.”

Jake was not sure what was more infuriating at the moment: you touching his shit, or you running interference for Marc. 

“I get it - can’t let anything upset Marc,” he growled, jerking his clothing out of your arms, a little more dramatically than he intended. You didn’t even flinch. “Believe me, muñeca(o), I’ve been dealing with him my whole life.”

You rolled your eyes, bristling in Marc’s defense. “Okay, first of all, I am not your doll.” You matched his glare with your hands on your hips, “and secondly, you can fuck right off.”

“Happily,” he sarcastically agreed. “You’re the one who ambushed me.”

True. You were in rare form tonight. However...

“Oh. I didn’t realize walking around my own bedroom was considered an ambush,” you fired back. “I was worried about you, Jake!”

“You were worried about him,” he sneered, dropping the pile of clothes onto the bed. “And I get that. You two are getting married, or whatever. Just let me do my job in peace.”

“And what is your job, exactly? Being Khonshu’s slave? Almost getting yourself killed?”

Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned.

“I fucked up, okay? It’s never happened before.” Angrily jerking off his tie, he silently cursed himself for coming in the window again, without making sure you were asleep. Although part of him knew, deep down, that he was dying to see you. And now this. Now you knew what had happened to Marc, that night, in the alley. 

“Jake, I can’t control what you do,” you admitted, your voice softening. You rarely ever raised your voice, let alone argued like this with Marc or Steven. But Jake just got under your skin. The heat in your cheeks and the heaving of your chest was definitely all worry. Nothing else, not at all...right?

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” you started again, boldly reaching for the tie clenched in his strong fist, which he held tightly to. “Your choices are yours. I respect that.”

He waited for a moment. “But?” He prodded. 

“But,” you added, swallowing hard, “You could have seriously been hurt. Khonshu is not obviously not protecting you. He doesn’t care what happens to you.”

“No one cares what happens to me,” he snapped, jerking away from you, tossing his tie carelessly. “That’s how it works. I protect them. That’s my job. That’s my only job.” 

“Bullshit,” you challenged, following him closely. “I care what happens to you, Jake. I care!” Reaching out, you desperately took hold of his forearm. “I’ve been waiting three nights in a row to see you again. I set my alarm just to wake up and see you. I’m yelling at you, Jake, and I never yell, ever. You’re driving me crazy!”

“Is that right?” He lowly growled, grabbing your arm - the one connected to him - and walking you back toward the wall. If you wanted his attention, you damn sure had it now. “You’ve known me for three days and I’m driving you crazy?”

All the air rushed out of you as one grip became two. Jake grasped your shoulders and pressed your back up against the wall, bending his knees slightly to descend to your height. “I’ve been sleeping next to you for years, mi amor. So believe me when I say that I know how you feel.”

“Jake, I...” you struggled to breathe normally as his dark eyes burned into yours, the grip of his fingers unyielding, yet somehow tender. “I didn’t know,” you finally uttered. “I didn’t know you were there, all this time. We don’t even know each other.” 

“I do know you,” he confessed, his voice softening as his thick fingers loosened their grip. “I know you. Marc and Steven too. So I can protect you.”

“But who will protect you?” you whispered, placing your palms on his chest to brace yourself, the heat of his firm body seeping through his dress shirt.

His searing gaze faltered, eyes dropping, his jaw clenching in determination. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this for them. You have no idea how many enemies Marc has. Nothing else can happen to him.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him, your voice softening. “Doesn’t being an avatar make more enemies? Marc was trying to leave all that behind.”

Shaking his head, Jake turned his face away, sighing loudly. Why was he even doing this with you? As foreign as a personal conversation felt to him, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be looked after - to be worried about, to be touched. 

“He can’t - leave it behind. It’s not safe,” Jake finally explained, his head still turned to the side, avoiding your pleading gaze. “We’re not safe without Khonshu.”

You wanted to protest, but in all honestly, how would you know? 

“Jake,” you whispered, pushing your fingers up the definition of his chest, over the length of his neck to trace the sharp edge of his jaw. God, he was beautiful. So like the men you loved, yet completely his own, complicated person. You knew next to nothing about him. He could have his own life, his own family - someone of his own to come home to.

...but why, then, had he spent years sleeping next to you? And why were you drawn to him like this - following him, touching him, shouting...your emotions wild and unpredictable?

“Jake,” you began again, your breath faltering as his eyes met yours.

He couldn’t take it - being this close to you. “What?” he rasped, his voice softly betraying the stern pinch of his dark eyebrows. “What do you want from me?”

Releasing your shoulders, finally, he took hold of your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. “Tell me, cariño,” he whispered darkly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want -” you hardly recognized the plea in your own voice, you fingers still dancing over the angles of his handsome face. 

Jake’s eyebrows shot up inquisitively, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. You realized, then, that he seemed pleased to see you falter - to see you speechless. 

Well, fuck that. 

“I want to know you,” you finally admitted, returning the press of your fingers to his chest, your gaze dropping. “I want to know who you are, and if...if you have anyone. Someone - a family. And I want Marc and Steven to know you.”

Ah, he should have known. Releasing his grip on your hips, he pulled away, nodding as he headed toward the edge of the bed. Pushing his discarded pile of clothes aside, he sat down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he finally responded, “but...this is my only home.” His eyes met yours from across the room. “You’re my only family.”

Your whole world stopped.

All at once, you were both devastated and thrilled. Jake had no one else to answer to in his life - he could be a family with you and Marc and Steven, if he was willing. Even if he didn’t want to be involved with you romantically, you wanted him to be a part of your life. But what kind of lonely existence had he led? Out at night, the avatar of a god, bringing vengeance to the vilest of men...protecting the system, but getting nothing in return? 

But the two of you couldn’t solve everything in one night. You would try, once more, to take what was in front of you, one step at a time. 

“I am,” you finally answered, crossing the room to ease down on the edge of the bed beside him. “I am your family. And this is your home. You don’t have to hide from us, Jake, or sneak in through windows.”

“I’m not...hiding,” he attempted, eyes downcast as his shoulder rubbed up against yours. “I just don’t want to take any more of their life. Of yours.”

“They’re trying to talk to you, you know. You don’t have to shut them out.”

He said your name then, and it almost felt strange to hear him say it. Different, but...good. 

He waited until you turned your head to look at him. “What I have...the way we are,” He tapped a finger to his temple, “in here...it’s not like a phone call. It doesn’t always work like that. It’s not always a sure thing.”

Shit. You violated the my-man-has-DID rules somehow. “I-I’m sorry, Jake, you’re right. It’s not my place to tell you how to...I don’t know, interact with your alters. I’m really sorry.”

Scowling, he paused, making you wonder if you really offended him. 

“Are you always this damn infuriating?” He cracked a smile, letting you know it was all right. 

“Actually, I’m usually a very calm and reasonable person,” you chuckled, leaning against his arm and giving him a little shove. “You just bring it out in me.”

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face​

#with you fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x gn!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #moon boys #moon knight system #oscar isaac fic

[youunravelme]

congraaats on 1k!!

could you do “good! get out of here! i didn't want you here anyway!”, “are you actually leaving?” and “you actually believed that shit?” with mat? but end it fluffy😅

thanks!!

thank you thank you!

(also let's ignore that this was from my 1000 follower celly from MONTHS ago lolol, happy valentine's day!) does this drabble make sense? i don't know, let's pretend it does though.

ever since he bought the ring, he couldn't stop staring at it. and maybe he should've been more careful, like not pulling the ring out when you had just fallen asleep or anytime you left him alone in the bedroom, but he couldn't help it. he looked at it and saw his future.

with you.

like now, he had his back to the door, gazing at the ring snug inside the velvet box. he had all these plans, it was going to be this friday night, he'd already made the arrangements.

however, he was too busy looking at the promise of his future to hear you walk in the front door.

"you okay?" you asked from the doorway of the bedroom.

mat jumped, snapping the ring box shut and hiding it behind his back before he turned around and faced you. "what?" he squeaked out.

your brows pulled together while your mouth twisted down in a frown that was cuter than it had any right to be.

god he wanted to marry you so bad.

would you hate him if he proposed now?

he cursed at himself in his head. you deserved better than a rushed proposal in your messy bedroom.

"mat? you okay?"

he blinked at you. "you're home early."

you glanced at your phone and looked back at him. "i'm actually home later than usual...."

"oh," he said.

"are you sure you're okay?"

mat scoffed, though it sounded more painful than anything. "me? why wouldn't i be okay? i'm great, fantastic even."

you blinked. "okay, you're acting weird, so i'm gonna go shower, i'm getting dinner with syd and holly."

“good! get out of here! i didn't want you here anyway!”

you laughed as you spun on your heel to walk into the ensuite. mat hurried back to the dresser and shoved the ring box under the underwear in his top drawer.

once his heart rate settled down, your words settled in. mat burst into the bathroom where you were just getting into the shower. "are you actually leaving?" he asked.

he could see you glance at him through the clear glass doors. "yeah," you said. "i made plans for tonight. besides, you told me you didn't want me here anyway."

it was clear you were joking, but mat gasped anyway. "and you actually believed that shit?"

you laughed, and it sounded like music to his ears. "you've been acting odd lately. thought you'd need some space from me."

before he could change his mind, mat stripped off his clothes and joined you in the shower, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. "i could never get tired of you," he mumbled into your shoulder. "did i hurt your feelings?"

you tilted your head to the side, allowing mat to trail his lips up your neck. "nope." you popped the p. "just thought you wanted some space."

mat shook his head vehemently. "i never want space from you. in fact, i don't think i see you enough, so you should definitely cancel on holly and sydney and just stay home with me."

"is that so?"

mat hummed and kissed the spot right behind your ear. "mhm."

"what's in it for me if i stay? i was promised wine and charcuterie."

"i can promise i'll wine and dine you and love you all night long."

you hummed. "anything else?"

mat pulled back just a little. "that's not enough?"

you laughed yet again, and god if he could he would bathe in the sound. you turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to yours.

"i'll text the girls, let them know i can't make it tonight."

mat leaned down to kiss you but it barely qualified as a kiss because he couldn't stop smiling.

fuck his plans.

tomorrow.

he was gonna ask you tomorrow.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal

[cosmal]

wrapping paper — send me in a character + and au (and a prompt!) and i’ll write you a blurb! eg. bartender!eddie, firefighter!james.

um firefighter!james would definitely make stupid jokes about you being hotter than all the fires he’s had to put out. like he comes home and ur in his boxers and a tank top and he’s like wheww back to work ig 🧯🧯🧯

on fire

summary james is a nusiance when he comes home from work.

content firefighter!jamespotter x fem!afab!reader

note mal...........

James gets home and throws his duffle into the laundry before you can see the massive stain it's earned from his open Powerade. He can hear you singing, he thinks that's more important than washing his shit.

He follows the sweet lilt of your voice to the sitting room, all high and pretty, and a little puffed out. You turn with a cute jump and James tries not to stare at your thighs - or your boobs or tummy. Anything that bounces enough to make him feel dizzy. He's not always a total pervert when it comes to you.

You catch him and you beam. He doesn't spook you with his quiet entrance and James likes that a lot more than he thinks he should. You look absolutely pleased to see him, giddy smile and sparkling eyes. James doesn't expect you to catch him if he passes out at the sight of you so he sits himself down on your sofa, content with watching you dance.

You keep your earphones in, the wire going crazy as you bounce. A pair of his boxers that he knows you love, and a tank top that rides up your back as you move to show him more skin than he thinks he deserves.

The song comes to an end and you rip out your earphones and throw your phone to the couch, puffing with giddiness. "Hey, Jamie," you chirp, moving to stand between his open legs. He reaches behind you to squeeze at your thighs, soft skin under his calloused, heavy hands.

"Christ," he murmurs quietly. He feels just as out of breath as you do. "Shit, baby, grab your phone quickly."

You don't reach for It, just giggle. "What, why?"

"I need to call the boys," he pants like he's actually flustered. "Need to tell them there's a fire. That my girlfriend's so hot, she's on fire."

You fall into him, legs parted over his lap and tell him to shut up. He doesn't, obviously. He's not going to when you're laughing like that

He pulls his hand up to his ear like a phone. "Mark, shit, you better get over here. This might be the hottest we've seen."

You hit him in the chest with less heat than he's expecting, hiding yourself in his neck. "Stop," you murmur into his skin. "James, stop it."

"Babe, you're burning up," he says, squeezing at your sides until you squirm. You keep yourself hidden much to his displeasure. He wants to hold your face in his hands.

"You're awful," you sigh, melting like a puddle in his lap. Thighs flattened out like cake batter in a pan. You make the prettiest sound like a hiccup against his ear and James thinks he actually doesn't want you to sit up.

"I know," he laughs. James is selfish when he pushes his hands under the tank top you can barely classify as one. He's not one to complain, every slip of skin he catches he feels worse than he acts.

There's a beat of silence before you get more comfortable. "How was work, baby?"

James tucks his chin over your shoulder and turns to kiss the skin behind your ear. "It was good. Long."

"Poor baby," you say and he wishes you wouldn't. He shivers. "Were you safe?"

Of course, he was. He's always safe. For you. "Yeah."

"Good."

He kisses you once more and hisses like he's been burnt. "Looks like I've come right home to the danger anyways."

You lift yourself from your lap, a hint of reluctance in your sluggish movements. "Right, you're done."

"No," he reaches out to grab at you and almost catches your wrist, "baby, come back!"

You walk out to your bathroom and he feels defeated before he hears. "So, are you coming?"

James has never leapt to his feet quicker. "Of course!" he calls back. "Gotta put out the fire somehow."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x female!reader #james potter x female reader #james potter drabble #james potter one shot #james potter headcanon #james potter drabbles #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fan fic #marauder x reader #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #the marauders fanfiction

[wheelsup30]

He loves me not (Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader)

(Note: Here's a little explanation of hanahaki disease for those who haven't heard of it: x)

cw: hanahaki disease, slightly gorey and gross descriptions, unrequited love, gender neutral reader, ANGST, death.

word count: 1.5k

dividers: x

tag list: @ralvezfanatic @softhairedhotch @samsgoddess @pisceslovrr

Guilt.

That's the last thing you should have felt staring down at the palm of your hand after the agony and panic you'd just experienced, but as the air made it back to your lungs, you were overwhelmed by it.

All he'd done was smile at you. That's it, just a quick, reassuring smile as he went past you to his office. Yet here you are in an empty hallway coming back from hacking up a lung. It had been going on for a while now, only recently it seemed to have worsened from once a month to almost every day. Even now it felt like every time he looked at you there was a rattle in your throat that needed clearing. 

The outcome itself had worsened too with time, they started off no bigger than baby's breath, but now they had grown to roses, thick and blood soaked that make you gag as you pull them from the back of your mouth. ‘Well, at least it's only the petals…’ you think to yourself as you go to the bathroom to wash your hands and dispose of what had been expelled from you. You shudder to think what it would be like if stems got involved…especially roses…

“Y/n?” Shit. Emily. 

You scrub your hands quickly after tossing the petal in the trash, glancing over at her and smiling as she looks up from her phone.

“You okay? You just walked off in the middle of your paperwork…”

“I'm fine,” You assure her, hoping there's no blood on your teeth. 

It’s convincing enough that she leaves you be, giving you time to wash the taste of copper and soil from your tongue. This couldn’t keep happening, it was only a matter of time before someone found out and tried to take you to a treatment centre, and then they’d all know. Aaron is married, you could never do that to him or Haley, so you’d resigned yourself to at home solutions and managing your symptoms by…well…hiding them.

Eventually you make it back out and are immediately called to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on JJ as she gives you the case information. Hotch sat in the same seat every time, so it was easy to ignore him and avoid another disaster. Most paperwork days went like this, 50% done and then you’re off again, giving you even more paperwork for when you get back. It was one of those things that made you whisper how you loved your job as you resisted the urge to actually bite a chunk out of your desk. You feel someone reach towards you as you stand, but you move out of the way before they can stop you in case it’s him. Fortunately it’s Emily, and she follows you down the hall, hand on your arm and a look of concern guiding her brows together. “Hey, what’s going on with you? You stood up like you got electrocuted.” 

A shaky sigh slips from your mouth, and you shrug, faking a tight-lipped smile. “Just a little tired, I guess I’m jumpy.” 

You weren’t. Not like this, anyway. You knew that, and so did Emily, but she also knew you were stubborn as all hell and if you didn’t want people to know something- you’d take it to your metaphorical grave.

Two and a half hours later, everyone stood in a small but relatively functional sheriff’s office. The case was pretty cut and dry, a local killer targeting public areas by a town she felt wronged her as a child. Most of the case was spent on different errands with JJ and Rossi, anything to avoid being left in a room with Aaron, you knew with this small of a workstation you’d have to speak to him and an episode would be close to unavoidable.

It doesn’t take long to track the unsub down, finding her at the scene of her first childhood crime. You approach her carefully with everyone else’s guns trained on her as you try to convince her to turn herself in, she’s hesitant at first, but with a few minutes of talking between you it finally seems like she’s calming down-

Then she lunges at you.

Everything happens in slow motion, Morgan runs to pull her back while someone else pulls you too, turning you to bury your face in their chest. Everything is a blur of panic and adrenaline, any noise muffled by your pounding heartbeat while you catch your breath…which is when you smell it.

His cologne.

You are wrapped in Aaron’s arms, one of his hands on your back and the other stroking your hair as he tries to get you back from your startled state. Little does he know, he’s making everything else worse.

The burn is slow at first, like a scraping on your throat that you might be able to wash away with some water, but as you walk to the car with his arm around your shoulders it grows into a firm pressure- then a blockage. You can only clear your throat so many times before it moves enough that you have to cough it out, and you do at first. Until there’s another, and another, and soon enough you’ve fallen to your knees, trying desperately to catch your breath as petals clog your trachea. It’s too much- you can’t even tell what the others are doing through your dizzy head and frantic attempts to inhale through the blood and flowers. 

Aaron, as anyone would, panics. He tries his best to smack your back to help your coughing, but when your breathing goes from strained to nearly non-existent, he knows he has to act. “What’s wrong with them?” He shouts, looking at the others for answers he wouldn’t be getting, but Emily still tries.

“Are those petals?” Horror laces her tone as she’s struck by a realisation. The avoidance, the way you’d been so jumpy earlier and had gone to her with questions the past few weeks instead of Aaron…

“Hanahaki…” Spencer says it as the word springs to mind for her. “Hotch…you’re the only one that touched them.” They’re outside, but the temperature drops when they all realise what you’d been hiding. You were in love with him, with your boss- a married man. It didn’t take a genius to realise why it had gotten so bad, the stigma the disease held in the first place was enough to make those that caught it wary of getting help.

It occurred to Aaron at that same time that you had been acting strangely, he had been so caught up with Jack and Haley that he hadn’t had time to notice you. You had been one of his closest friends, once upon a time, but when Haley got pregnant…that’s when it started. Frequent dinners with the two of them became monthly, then special occasions with others, then…nothing. Hell- you’d even declined his invitation to the dumb superbowl party the two of you crashed at Sean’s every year…and he hadn’t noticed. Maybe if you’d said something, or if he’d seen the signs earlier he could’ve let you move past it- he could’ve let you down easy and had his best friend back just as fast. He frantically thinks that maybe there’s still time, and cradles you in his arms, his breathing shallow as he sees your eyes start to roll back.

“No. No, no no-” Hotch jams his fingers in your mouth, almost down your throat, frantic to save you as the petals and blood cling to his fingers. “Please-” He whispers, trying to keep your mouth angled down so anything in it will drop out. You stopped breathing over a minute ago, but he still holds your body close to his chest, desperately crying over it.

“I love you, I love you so much, please don't die- I love you- why isn't it working!?-” 

It wouldn't. Of course it wouldn't. Aaron Hotchner loved you…but he wasn't in love with you. Yes, you were his best friend, but you were just that…his friend. His friend who brought wine to every dinner, his friend who was the first to meet his baby boy after Jack's grandparents and at the same time as Haley's sister, His friend who sat through every late night phone call where he stressed over Sean’s future…And now you’re gone.

Blood had been dripping from your mouth…Aaron didn't notice till Rossi took you from his arms and helped the paramedics bag you up- who had called them? He didn't know, he was too distraught just seeing you lifeless. Even after you were gone, your blood and those petals coated his hands and shirt.

He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and scream at you, how could you just sit back and let yourself suffer? How could you be that selfish?- No. No, it wasn’t selfish. You were anything but. You had chosen to let yourself die to something entirely curable so that Aaron could’ve lived his life none the wiser to how you felt…so that he could be happy with his wife and their new baby. His life was supposed to be perfect…but instead he was left with a disease you’d passed onto him…one entirely incurable.

Guilt.

#leowrites #aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #hanahaki #criminal minds x gn reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader

[thatonetrans-binarydude]

Sonic characters and their love languages (sonic, shadow, knuckles, and silver):

Sonic:

💙 definitely physical affection and quality time.

💙 jit cannot go one minute without being near you or he.will.die

💙 that's what he says anyways

💙 he knows he can be a little over-baring so he tries not to come off as clingy as he actually is

💙 he follows you around everywhere to, store? He can help you carry bags! Work? He'll make sure no one bothers you! Bathroom? He's right outside the door.

💙 now exactly how clingy he is kinda depends on whether it's romantic or platonic

💙 if it's platonic he won't really feel the need to stake a claim in you by always being around. He's much more toned down if he only sees you as a friend or family.

💙 if it's Romantic holy shit- bro always has a hand in you one way or another, especially in public. Either holding your waist or having his arm around your shoulder ....

💙 it feels natural to him.

Shadow:

🖤 acts of service and quality time I'm calling it now.

🖤 he feels so bad whenever he can't bring you with him :( What if something happens???

🖤 like sonic he's pretty much always near you.... except most of the time you don't know it

🖤 it's not stalking ofcourse, he's just....protecting you ok?

🖤 he fears what happened to Maria will happen to you...

🖤 onto lighter topics :) whenever he does come back to you he always gives you a hug before doing your chores for you without saying a word. Dishes? Nah, shadow will do it, what if you you wash and get a cut? Laundry? He can do that to, y'know you look a little tired maybe you should rest...

🖤 if you try to stop him he'll give you a look before pushing you back down onto the couch.

🖤 how dare you interrupt his cleaning >:(

🖤 it's all for you after all....

Knuckles:

🥊acts of service, I see him doing like shadow litterly everything for you because your fragile to him.

🥊 he's like your personal bodyguard to, no one is gonna bother you with him around that's for sure .

🥊 scary dog privilege? Scary dog privilege. Him and shadow both....

🥊 he's not very physically affectionate or verbally affectionate either, mainly because one what if he accidentally crushes you?? Second of all boy doesn't know what to say tbh-

🥊 someone get this man some social anxiety meds😭

Silver:

🤍 physical affection and words of affirmation.

🤍 mf can't go anywhere without you 💀

🤍 it's like the that one scene from family guy with Donna and Cleveland.

🤍 you'll be walking to the kitchen to get a class of water when suddenly you hear name being shouted by a sobbing silver who's stuck under the sheet 😂

Anyway-

🤍 he follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy, y'know privacy? Yah forget her you have silver now.

🤍 he's like the worse clingier version of shadow and sonic....

🤍 can and will go into heavy detail about how you should be a nation wide treasure

🤍 although while he's a simp who can't leave you alone for one millisecond your very much protected with him.

🤍 not a single hair on your head will be harmed as long as he's here...

Bonus!:

*silver walks in to see sonic and knuckles fighting over who gets you*

Silver: 😶....what do you mean it's not my turn??? *Insert angry silver using his telekinesis to throw them out the window*

Also silver: *Insert hysterical sobbing near y/n* "YOUR MY BABYYYY"

Shadow: I already told you idiots that I'd have them for the week...I have... nothing to do anyway *awkwardly hides the piles of darks he forgot to do*

#yandere x reader #yandere sonic #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere shadow the hedgehog #yandere silver #yandere silver the hedgehog #family guy references 👉👈 #shitpost #yandere knuckles #yandere knuckles the echnida

[recklesssturniolo]

Not Just Friends - C.S

As per the earlier request for Chris x reader being friends w benefits but confess their feelings for each other (here!) No smut

A/N: I hope y’all like this if it’s shit I’m sorry this is somewhat my first time writing something like this

Chris and I had been friends with benefits for about 4 months now. Us meeting through Nick, as him and I became good friends after meeting at an event. When we first started, we set a rule that if either one of us caught feelings, we'd stop immediately. I had been breaking that rule for over a month now. I knew I saw Chris as more than just a fuck-buddy. How could I not? He'd let me spend the night, cuddle with me, and in general just act like he was my boyfriend - until of course we were in public.

Currently at a party with him and his brothers, I watched as he stood across the room from me flirting with a random girl. I hadn't told anyone that I had actual feelings for Chris and really didn't plan to, but I knew I had to end things before I fell for him any harder.

"You aren't very good at hiding how you feel you know that right?" Matt says from beside me, causing me to jump slightly as I wasn't expecting him to just pop up.

"What are you talking about?" I question, seriously hoping he was not about to bring up Chris.

"How you feel about Chris, I mean you're standing here gloomy because he's flirting with another girl" He replies.

"I am not 'gloomy' Matt. Just annoyed I guess" I mumble back.

"Oh come on, I can see the way you look at him Y/N. Nick too, he's brought it up to me a couple times. You and I both know this is deeper than just sex" He sighs.

"Doesn't really matter if it is or isn't deeper than sex as for Chris it's simply sex and that's it" I say.

He scoffs before responding, "No way you actually think that"

"Why wouldn't I? I mean he's literally proving my point right now" I say, nodding my head in Chris' direction.

"Y/N, he looks at you the exact same way you look at him. He'd never let a girl stay the night before you. Jesus he's never actually cared about a girl like this before. You should see the way he reacts when he see's you're out with another guy. Never seen someone get jealous that quick" He says.

I sigh before telling Matt I was going to the washroom, not knowing how to continue the conversation and also not wanting to watch Chris hit on girls any longer. Walking to the bathroom I'm stopped by a guy.

"Hey, you're gorgeous" He smiles.

"Oh um thank you" I smile back.

Surprised the guy was actually being respectful, we continued talking for a few minutes before exchanging numbers and parting ways. I use the washroom, and decide to go out on the porch for some air.

"What the fuck was that?" I hear, already aware just by the voice that it was Chris.

"Pardon?" I question.

"Don't play stupid. You and that guy, what was that about?" He replies.

"He complimented me and we had a small conversation before we exchanged numbers? Why does it matter?" I ask.

"Just not sure why you'd even give him your number, or for that matter even talk to him. He obviously just wants in your pants" He says.

"Real bold coming from you, someone who actually fucks me then spends the night flirting with every girl possible" I scoff back.

"Seriously? That's what you care about? We agreed we're nothing more than fuck buddies - or friends whatever" He responds, raising his voice slightly.

"Okay then why the fuck do you care about who I talk to?" I reply, my voice getting louder too.

"I don't, was just letting you know all he wants is to fuck. He doesn't actually care to have polite conversation" He shrugs.

I scoff before turning around to go back inside, but Chris grabs my arm, "What that hurt your feelings or some shit?”

"You realize that's the exact same as you right? Only difference being you actually fuck me and he doesn't" I question.

"That's bullshit and you know it” He replies.

“Is it? Pretty sure you’re fucking other girls by the way you act anyways. We mine as well call it off right now” I say, regardless of my heart slightly hurting at the thought of not seeing him anymore - not the sex but just him.

“And if I am seeing other girls what’s it to you?” He says back, now angrier.

“Forget it Chris, this is done. I’m not doing this with you” I huff.

“No tell me, what’s it to you if I’m seeing other girls?” He repeats.

“What’s it to you if I was to start seeing that guy then?” I question back - purposely avoiding his question.

“For fuck sakes I don’t want to share you” He yells.

“But I have to share you?” I respond.

“You seriously fucking think I have other girls? You think I’m letting other girls stay the night? Making them breakfast? You think there’s even one other girl who I’d feel comforted by?” He again yells. Now struggling to make eye contact.

I rub my face with my hands, “How would I know Chris? Look how you act at parties”

“Are you blind?” He asks, taking me by surprise.

“Sorry what?” I question.

“I only fucking do that to get under your skin. I don’t want anyone else, do I have to fucking spell it out for you? I don’t want you with anyone but me” He says, his voice softening.

My mind turns as Matt’s words from earlier replay in my head. Was Matt actually right?

“Okay” I respond. Knowing it was a shit reply but not being able to come up with anything better.

“That’s all you have to say?” He questions.

“What Chris, what are you expecting me to say? Are you wanting me to just come right out and tell you I’m in love with you? Because there you go" I yell before my eyes widen after what I just said actually hits me.

I look at Chris as he stands there. Not a single word leaving his mouth, no emotion present on his face. My heart breaking more with every second that passes.

Going to walk away for the second time, Chris once again grabs my arm to stop me. Except this time once I'm facing him, he pulls my face in and kisses me before he pulls away just slightly, saying "You have no idea how long I have been waiting to hear that" before connecting our lips again.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidisworld @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fluff

[estjbeaver]

𝑵𝒐𝑵𝒖𝒕𝑵𝒐𝒗

[Bakugou Katsuki]

[NSFW]

Reblog | Comment | Enjoy, ig

Warning! Teasing sex. Finger sex. Yeah... that's about it. Sex.

Fuck, you were being a tease. You stood in the mirror of your bathroom and looked at your chosen outfit. That being black lacy lingerie.

A small recap: the friend group had agreed upon taking part in the no nut November challenge. Some were against it at first, but their egoes ended up giving in. Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, just so happened to have been one of these unlucky souls.

It'd been a long and excruciating month due to the lack of intimacy. You could still relieve yourself should it be needed, but the poor stubborn hero simply had to bare with the discomfort of desire.

Fuck, you were being a tease. You were curious to know how long he could last before succumbing to your alluring tactics. The door to your apartment clicked open after you heard the keys jingle. It opened and closed and Katsuki called out that he was home.

"You hiding or something?" He asked, wlaking around and searching for you.

"Just trying out a new outfit I bought," you called out from the bathroom. "Uhm, mind checking and seeing if it's okay?"

"Tch. You need to stop spending your money or shitty fashion," he replied in his usual manner. Translated, he actually meant that he really wanted to see what you had gotten for yourself.

One final glance of confidence at your reflection and you left the bathroom. He was still in the kitchen, scavenging for ingredients to cook with for the two of you.

His back was turned facing you. You rolled your eyes and continued the conversation in the most casual way possible.

"I personally think this is the best one so far," you started, looking down at your langirie. He turned his head over his shoulder, then with surprised, wide eyes turned his whole body. "What do you think?"

Asked seductively with fox eyes. Slyly provoking him and knowing exactly what you were doing to him. He swallowed thickly. He combed his fingers through his hair.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking tease."

"No I'm not," your innocent play was what broke him. "What? Don't you like my outfit? I bought it specially for you..."

You were on the kitchen counter.

Your legs were spread out.

Your mouth being sucked at and kissed by Katsuki.

Fuck that nnn shit. He was going to devour you right then and there. You pulled away from the heated kiss and grinned.

"But Baby, what about the challenge?"

"Fuck the challenge," he kissed you again. "And fuck you."

"Please do."

The beautiful laced underwear was burned from your skin. Big needy hands touched you all over. From your back to your neck to your arms to your breasts. Wherever his fingers roamed, you pleaded for more.

Bretahless and panting you tried muffling your moans. His mouth cupped your nipples and gnawed at them as if he were a hungry newborn.

Red and purple marks were already decorating your neck and collar bone. Tits covered in bitemarks.

He lowered himself closer to a crouch, kissing butterfly kisses all along your stomach. The sensations had you creaming your pants.

A soft peck was planted against the singular fabric you had left on your body. His hand massaged your thighs and his eyes glared up into yours.

"Since when are you so patient?" You stuttered through rigid breaths. "Take it off already."

He stood back up, gripped your chin with his hand, and stared stoicly into your soul.

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean- ah! Shit!" Your words slummered together. Against the gabrick, aggressively rubbing up your slit, were his fingers.

"You can't be a tease without being fucking teased," he lectured.

It flew over your head, though. Nothing really made sense due to the chaotic madness that drove your lust to insanity. He wasn't gentle at all. You were grateful for the panties, otherwide you might've cum already.

His fingers kept rubbing and rubbing, irritating your clit closer and closer to sensational relief.

"Fuck," you moaned. A hand gripped at Katsuki's supporting arm that rested on the counter beside you. He didn't utter a sound and kept a firm gaze on your trembling form.

You tried moaning out his name but even that was a fail. Your legs tensed up and your toes curled. Nails dug into his skin and your eyes tightly shut.

He kept on going at the same oace until he knew every last bit of your orgasm had been rode out. Your pussy leaked cum into your panties. He could feel the dampness against the fabric.

You were breathless. "You're so mean." He could only snicker. When some sense of strength returned you reached for the waistband of his pants. He stopped you. "What? Don't want me to take care of your not-so-little problem?"

He placed both hands either side of you on the counter, trapping you competely.

"I agreed to this stupid challenge," he kissed you gently. "And I don't fucking lose."

© all content belongs to estjbeaver '22. do not modify or repost.

Maintream

Bakugou

#mha smut #bakugo smut #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou x female reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n

[onlyswan]

summary: in which cruel fate leads you and jungkook to bright places.

> fluff, a little twinge of angst? / wc: 4.2k

> warnings: none really. but if you’ve read the grocery store drabble, you really get lost in this one. hehe

note: oc!!! stop making him worry like this. cries in i love sweet boy jungkook sooo much. + i enjoyed writing this :[ <3 listened to cigs after sex while i was at it. and as you can tell i got very. carried away. scratches head. researching about pokemon bread was also kind of fun?

—

love is selfless— it’s what they often say. however, on his way home from work, jungkook finds himself admitting his ugly truth: he is selfish. when he arrives at your shared space, he will tangle his limbs with yours and let you drag him across the floor to wherever it is you need to go. he will hold on to you, and never let go. he will abandon the concept of time at the farthest corner of his mind, along with his exhaustive musings and responsibilities. instead, he will be consumed by you.

and sometimes, he finds that the telepathy connecting the two of you is baffling.

because he’s definitely not thinking about anything else but you. he’s scouring the entire apartment for any trace of life, but you’re nowhere to be found. the bed is still made. the bathroom lights are off. the pillows on the couch are organized. the center table is spotless. the kitchen is clean. he opens the trash bin, and the last thing tossed in there is still the egg tray he discarded this morning. he checks the laundry room, but the only clothes of yours in the laundry basket are from yesterday.

he ends up deciding that you’re not playing hide-and-seek with him like he originally thought. he sits on the counter top, anxiously playing with his lipring as he calls your number. again. and again. and again.

you did tell him earlier that you were going to visit the library, but it already closed an hour ago, so you should be home by now. moreover, if you were going to drop by other places, you would’ve updated him that you’d be home later at night. but you didn’t. the last text you sent him was a captured photo of page 73, an overview about thyme. you reminded him that he once mentioned that he wanted to grow some herbs in your balcony, so you’re doing some old-fashioned research about them in the library.

and thank heavens you answer the call on his fifth try, because he’s about to have a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen.

“jungkook!”

not to be dramatic, but if he was standing, his knees would’ve collapsed on the tiled floor at the sound of your voice. he swallows the lump in his throat, breathes deeply to unload the weight sitting on his chest.

“where are you?”

“oh, right! about that-” you chuckle nervously, and he can already imagine you tapping your foot against the floor. “wait. let me just-”

“how long? i can’t wait. i miss you. tell me where you are and i’ll pick you up.” he hops off the counter, making a beeline to the front door.

“yes, pick me up. please. i’m not sure where i am exactly but i just checked and my location is still turned on with you.”

oh shit. the location feature. why didn’t he think of that? and what do you mean by-

he pauses on his tracks, car keys back in his hand not even twenty minutes since he got off his car. “baby, how do you not know where you are?”

“uhm, i fell asleep in the bus . . . then i panicked and got off because i thought i missed my stop. but you’re not gonna believe what happened next!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers massaging his temple because he has a bad feeling about this. “okay. try me.”

“i realized i actually got on the wrong bus. stupid, right?” you giggle through the phone speaker, and it’s both endearing and ridiculous that you can still laugh in this situation.

nevermind that, he’s just relieved that you’re safe.

“i walked for a while and found this convenience store with a charging station. i emptied my battery trying to book a taxi but none accepted me!”

your whiny voice makes him smile, although he looked forward to hearing it more when he planned to be disgustingly clingy and affectionate.

“i’ll go, baby. just wait for me there, okay?” he presses the down button, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“okaaay.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

he puts you on speaker mode when he enters, checking on your location to see how far you’ve strayed from home. you got on the wrong bus. no mistake about that.

“you’re an hour and three minutes away.”

he hears you choke out a cough from the other line, most probably on a drink. “an hour?! by foot, right?”

“no,” he chuckles. late night drives with you aren’t new, so he doesn’t mind it one bit. “by car.”

silence fills the air for a few seconds. “then i’ll drive on the way back. i’m about to eat ramyeon so i’ll be energized!”

“let’s see if i get too tired to drive. just stay on the phone for me, okay?”

“wait- i’m hungry. need to go put hot water in my noodles. let’s switch to video call.”

when he accepts the video call, he’s greeted by the candy and chocolate shelf in landscape view. you probably propped up your phone on the charging station, so he adjusts his phone’s position to match yours. and you . . . are nowhere to be found. again.

he’s already driving out on the road when you appear on his screen. you smile at him, waving the chopsticks in your hand.

“i’ll do a live mukbang for you in a few minutes.”

he takes a brief glance, memorizing the way you look before reverting his attention to the road. a small smile grows on his face, a huge wave of love flooding his system. “you look so pretty today.”

“thank you. it took me thirty minutes to pick out my outfit.” you chirp happily before revealing the hand hidden behind your back, holding up a special item you stumbled upon during your little adventure. “look what i found! do you want it?”

“what is it?” he asks as he makes a turn.

“team rocket’s pokemon bread. it’s chocolate.” you inspect the bread again to confirm that you’re correct. “it’s the last one on the shelf so i just bought it.”

his eyes widen in surprise, lips forming an ‘o’. he personally knows many people who have been visiting stores until the late hours to buy them. it’s all the rage nowadays.

“oh? you actually found one?!”

“don’t you think fate led me here for this?” you gush excitedly.

he finally stops at a red light, taking a good look at you with fondness. “you’re giving it to me?”

“yes. enjoy it, okay? i walked in boots for this.” you point at the camera threateningly.

so adorable. he misses you so much.

he obediently crosses his fingers to forge a promise. “i won’t leave a single crumb uneaten.”

“good boy,” you poke the camera as if you’re booping his nose. “i left my food too long. i’ll go get my overcooked ramyeon now.”

you disappear again, and he resumes his journey leading to you. you return moments later, devouring a cup of ramyeon. you’re holding it with some tissue paper. you were never really good with touching hot things— you drop them without thinking twice . . . which is a health hazard.

and it stays like that for a little while. as jungkook drives, he looks at you and the navigation guide every now and then. just to make sure he’s turning to the correct lefts and rights as the voice says; and to give himself the assurance that you didn’t stray somewhere else again. you, on the other hand, is too focused on your food to give your boyfriend a smidge of attention. that’s how mukbang asmr is, right? only eating sounds?

the cashier is probably thinking of you funny for eating infront of your boyfriend via video call in a public place. you couldn’t care less. it’s been a long day, and staying still in this small corner of the earth feels oddly comforting.

you’re in the middle of sipping down the leftover broth at the bottom of the cup when you hear movement from the aisle behind you. being nosy as you are, you find yourself taking a peek. you take quick and light steps back to jungkook to tell him about what you saw.

“babe, they’re restocking the pokemon breads. i’m the only person left here.” you whisper with one hand covering your mouth from the side, as if you’re sharing a secret. “i’ll buy more.”

he unconsciously copies the gesture and the volume of your voice. “do they have the other flavors too?”

“yes. keep driving safe. be right back.”

you dash to the other aisle, and jungkook and the long row of kitkats play a staring contest in the middle of traffic yet again.

familiar with your nature, it is entertaining to watch you participate in the pokemon bread hunt out of the blue. very on-brand and-

“so competitive.” he laughs to himself.

—

“hi!” you beam at the camera, hugging the paper bag inhabited by your new prized possessions. “uh, we have eight in total. i bought one of each flavor so there’s two team rocket now. and three jigglypuff bread just because- um-”

jungkook stifles his laughter. oh, of course you did.

“it’s so cute. i couldn’t help myself.” you sigh, slightly feeling guilty. other people do hoard them and buy everything off the shelf, so you think about that to feel less bad about taking all the jigglypuffs.

fuck. if you’re being this cute over a jigglypuff bread, he might just have to join everyone and do convenience store raids, too.

“you’re kind for still leaving some. i saw a person in the internet buy all the pokemon breads in the store they went to.”

“right?! i saw that, too.” you exclaim, relieved that you had the same thought as him.

“did you get me my pikachu, though?”

“of course. pikachu must always be present!” you answer proudly as you unplug your phone after seeing that it’s already at 50%. “i’m getting bored here. there’s a thrift shop just beside this, so i’ll go see if they’re still opened.”

jungkook drums his fingers on the steering wheel, following a beat he’s making up on the spot. “alright. i’m only fifteen minutes away, so don’t go anywhere else.”

”yes, sir.”

“and don’t end the call.”

“i won’t. you’ll miss me.”

he clicks his tongue before sighing, expressing his frustrating sorrow. “i already do.”

—

the air from outside is warmer, and it engulfs you the second you pull the door open. it makes your skin feel sticky and uncomfortable. the thought of going back inside enters your mind, but the idea gets shot down immediately after. might get tempted to buy more bread.

the thrift shop heavily contrasts the vivid conveniece store. there is no door. racks of pre-loved clothing greet you by the entrance, leading to more of them inside. a lone warm lightbulb illuminates the cramped space, hanging in the middle of the dirty white ceiling. and the smell. oh, the smell— it causes nostalgia to rush throughout your body.

a woman emerges from the wooden counter. she’s in her 50s, if you had the guess. you make eye-contact, and her kind eyes eases your uncertainty about whether you’re allowed to enter or not.

“you can still look around if you want. i’m just cleaning before i close up.”

“oh, thank you!” you politely bow before approaching the long rack of shirts and long-sleeves against the wall. you’ve been eyeing them since the moment you arrived.

left with no other choice, you leave the paper bag of pokemon breads on the floor, under one of the racks. you carefully lean your phone against a shoe on the shelf above it, just a little higher than your eye-level. you smile unbeknownst to yourself. your jungkook looks extra handsome when driving. while he admittedly has a short attention span, he’s very focused on the road when he’s behind the wheel.

you’re already browsing through the clothes when he glances at his phone. he can only see half your face, but he also hears your fast hands pushing back the hanger of the ones that don’t capture your interest.

your love for shopping doubled when you entered a relationship with jungkook, because purchasing items you think he like or need also brings you an unexplainable joy. it’s not limited to clothes or accessories. for example, you bought him white and blue acrylic paint two months ago because you noticed that he used them all up for a project.

after more or less ten minutes, there are already two t-shirts and one sweater hanging on your forearm. one of the t-shirt is yours. it matches with one of your trousers that you barely wear.

you’ve walked past the camera frame when you stumble upon a black bomber jacket, looking so cool and brand-new, which explains why it’s a bit on the pricier side. and you know jungkook has a lot of other black jackets back at home, but you just can’t help yourself because it reminds you so much of him.

it’s so jungkook. you can’t allow it to live in another person’s closet.

you approach the counter with the clothes you picked out. the woman halts her sweeping outside, leaving the broom against the wall before wiping her hands on her long skirt, the floral print noticeably faded with time. you hastily grab the belongings you left unattended, putting your phone’s microphone on mute to keep your little surprise.

there’s no paper bills left in your wallet after spending all your money on food and clothes. with a grimace, you drop it inside your bag. you were only supposed to go to the library today, spend a little money on bus fare and lunch. perhaps, spontaneously add in a little snack in between. however, this is called spontaneity out of hand.

“are these for your boyfriend’s birthday?” the woman asks in a hushed, yet teasing, voice as she folds up the jacket.

two pairs of eyes fall on the phone you’re holding, and you smile sheepishly. “i’m trying to make everyday his birthday.”

“he’s very handsome. you better take good care of him!”

you cover your face in embarrassment, silently laughing. “we take good care of each other! he’s coming to pick me up because i couldn’t find a taxi.”

“oh dear, are you new here?” she stuffs the jacket in the big plastic bag, along with the other clothes you bought. “there’s barely any taxis here after 9pm. everyone just walks. many complaints about it, but good exercise for my rusty bones when they ask me.”

“i’ll keep that in mind for next time.” you wrap your left arm around the bag of clothes, sliding it off the counter until you’re carrying its full weight. “thank you again. have a great night! and stay healthy!”

you stumble on the single step leading outside because the weight of the breads and clothes are unbalanced. thankfully, you make it out of the shop without a scratch. the woman bids you a safe trip and picks up the broom, the melancholia of night-time quietness blanketing her home once again.

you look down at your phone to find that the video call with jungkook has ended, but before you can question him, a familiar voice sings your name from a close distance.

“jungkook!” you call out to him, crossing the distance between you in high spirits. “you really came for me!”

jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “you really thought i’d leave you here stranded? you always make me worried.”

“i never do it on purpose.” you frown, shoulders sagged with guilt.

“that makes it more worrisome.” he breathes out a sigh. “come here. i missed you.”

“i want to hug you, but my hands are full.”

he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight embrace. he feels you give a chaste kiss to his jaw before leaning your cheek on his shoulder, and just like that, his anxiety melts away. your favorite perfume invades his sense of smell. as a person with a sensitive nose, many perfumes often give him a headache. he is in love with yours. it’s sweet and subtle; it feels like coming home.

“i was so excited to come home but you weren’t there.”

“i’m sorry for always making you worry. i’ll be more mindful next time.” you apologize to him with a kiss on the cheek, and you feel it rise against your lips when he smiles. “oh no, wait. the bread- they’re going to get all mushed up.”

he reluctantly untangles himself from you, taking away the heavy load you’re carrying without you having to ask. this is when you swiftly snatch the car keys from his hand.

“i want to drive this time.”

he breathes out a sigh of relief. “oh my god, thank you. i’m getting sleepy.”

—

it’s impossible not to quickly look over to the passenger seat when a bright flash fills the vehicle. surprise, surprise! instead of sleeping, jungkook is taking pictures of the packs of pokemon bread he eagerly arranged on his lap.

“that flash is brighter than the sun.”

he throws a thumbs-up with an overly enthusiastic voice. “samsung!”

you swear, every chance he gets he promotes thei-

“don’t you dare steal my jigglypuff.”

he raises his arms in surrender, making balloons with his cheeks. “i just didn’t know they were strawberry flavored. i’m tasting team rocket’s chocolate rolls first. namjoon-hyung likes it.”

he carefully tears it from the other side to keep team rocket’s image unharmed. he takes a bite from the choco roll, and feeds the remaining half to you.

“mhmmm.” he hums, eyebrows furrowed in sheer delight. “it’s so good? i’m glad you bought another.”

he divides another roll in the middle. he munches on his share as he waits for you to finish your first bite. while he does as such, he suddenly perks up when he remembers the story he was supposed to tell you.

“i saw a group of guys enter the convenience store when i arrived earlier. they were looking for pokemon bread, too.”

“how’d you know?”

“i heard one of them say ‘this one better have the gastly bread or i will cry.’” he imitates the stranger’s deep voice speaking in a whiny manner. “it was funny.”

“then he’s probably on his way home crying now.” your giggles create a harmony.

that store did not have gastly bread, unfortunately.

—

“moment of truth.”

jungkook locates the pokemon sticker after you finish the rest of the bread. you wait with bated breath as he unveils the first out of eight stickers.

he gasps as he comes face-to-face with- “it’s snorlax! number 143 . . . 143.” he freezes as he scans his memory for the special meaning of the number code. “doesn’t that mean ‘i love you’?”

“it does,” you confirm with a grin. “i told you it was fate! isn’t it the best love confession?”

while living with you is a type of intimacy he values greatly, and protects everyday, getting lost in unfamiliar places with you has a charm of its own. it’s one of the days when he allows himself to say: jungkook, you lived well today.

he presses the sticker on your cheek, giving you a kiss through snorlax. “i love you, too.”

—

“since we can’t finish all these bread tonight, we’ll open the rest tomorrow.” jungkook announces as he sets down the plastic bag on the floor. in the meantime, snorlax is kept in his wallet for safety purposes.

he carries the clothes to his lap next, curious eyes and curious hands taking out the items one by one. he squeaks a sound of amazement. “you found quite a lot in that shop.”

“they had a lot of good stuff. i got the dark green-ish shirt. the rest are for you.”

he holds the baby blue sweater by the shoulders, letting the rest of it unfold and hang suspended in the air. “this one is so pretty.”

“oh! i really like that one. might borrow it a lot.”

“you’d look pretty in it. especially in the winter.” he says fondly. the mental image of you wearing it surrounded by snow is making him miss the season that just passed.

you pout. “but i got it for you. so wear it more than me.”

“i will. i want to wear it to work right after laundry day.” you beam in contentment, and he pats your head appreciatively. “you’re so fucking cute, baby. thank you for buying it for me.”

the black jacket catches his attention next, and the galaxies in his eyes sparkle as he takes in its the details and overall appearance. “this is totally my style! how does it look so brand-new?”

“right? it’s a steal so i had to buy it!”

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a conscious effort to restrain himself from attacking you with hugs and kisses. buying treats and gifts for each other on random days— it’s grown to be a second nature in your relationship. this is why you always go on trips on birthdays and anniversaries instead of buying big gifts. he loves that there’s no pressure, and the element of surprise never fades. he loves that he knows what you like, and you know what he likes. a huge part of what makes him who he is has permanently resided in who you are, and vice versa. he will carry you with him for the rest of his life, just like the food he learned to love because his childhood friend forced him to have a bite, and how he adds a bar on top of the letter J because it reminds him of the number 7.

so from now on, he will refuse to wear any other jacket but the one you bought him, and he will think of you every time the sky is baby blue.

“i think this is going to be one of those clothes i’d wear all the time. like the first sneakers you got me.”

“oh god,” you chuckle at the old memory. if people didn’t know he was rich, they would’ve thought he only had one pair of shoes. “you really wore those out.”

“that’s how much i loved it!”

“okay, but you need to wash it before wearing it.”

“i’ll wake up earlier to do laundry.” he starts planning out his day inside his head as he folds up the clothes to put back inside the bag. but then he traces his thoughts two hours backwards, and he is reminded physical affection he’s been craving the whole day.

“can we cuddle when we get home?”

“of course, my love.” you raise an eyebrow in question. “when do we not cuddle?”

“i just missed you a lot today.” he sighs, turning over to his side to look at you. perhaps, also to memorize the street lights reflecting on your face, and how your beige cardigan has slipped down your shoulder. oh, the urge to write a song at this magical moment.

“what’s wrong? did anything bad happen today?” pure concern adorns your voice. you hate it when he’s sad. so much. you want to shield him from everything bad in the world.

“nothing.” his face starts to feel flushed, one of the dead giveaways that he’s emotional. “i just love you, that’s all. you get it, right?”

you have never been more grateful to meet a light that just turned red.

you solely focus on him momentarily, combing his hair with your fingers because it always helps him to relax. “feeling a little overwhelmed, is that it?”

he only nods as a reply. he catches your hand in his to give your knuckles a kiss, plushy lips caressing the tough bones of your doting hand.

“we’re almost home. wanna cuddle in the bathtub?” you propose when you recognize the familiar scenery through his window. the promising comfort and safety of your home causes exhaustion to come crashing down on you. your muscles are suffering the consequences of your actions, and therefore, are asking for compensation.

jungkook seems to be relishing in the idea, doe eyes sparkling instead of shining with unshed tears. “please, that sounds nice. but i’m sorry for when i fall asleep in there.”

—

you laugh nervously as you enter your parking lot. you do have your license, but you don’t drive very often. maybe three times a month at most. you find driving to be energy consuming despite being seated, so you much prefer commuting because it also serves as your rest time before and after attending to your duties.

“i need to reverse park before we can get into the bathtub, so you have to help me.”

and yes, additionally, you just simply hate reverse parking with burning passion.

“why do you hate reverse parking so much?” your boyfriend asks out of curiosity.

good question.

“i know we have cameras now, but i’m still always scared of bumping into other cars.”

he flashes you his old-fashioned captivating smirk, resting his hand behind the driver’s seat. what makes it funnier is that you’re not even looking. you’re too preoccupied with finding your parking space.

he raises his eyebrows teasingly, doe eyes turning into small slits as they do when he’s playfully flirting. “you don’t have to be scared of such thing, baby. i’ll pay for the damages.”

“you’re jinxing it! i’ll definitely mess up that ferrari now!”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk @bxbyyyjocelyn @zkdlllin @koostarcandy @tswisal1 @fragmentof-indifference @laylasbunbunny @jjk-jeongirl @cherishoshi @luaspersona + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[jupitercomet]

happy holidays!! if you’re still taking prompts could we see something steamy/smutty with Bradley and Toots based on that adrenaline high-drunk ask you got earlier when she’s confused about how happy he’s being? set before they’re officially together?

okay I know I said that I was holding off on blurbs until after I finish the Christmas fic, but y'all should know by now that I am a ✨liar✨ (but actually I had to write this and I'm not sorry)

warnings: language, mentions of drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of drugs, Bradley is 6'6'' because I said so, dirty talk but no actual smut, size kink, I added outfit links but you can imagine whatever you would like

also if you'd like to fill this bad boy out I would really appreciate it!

You wouldn't say that Bradley scared you, because he doesn’t scare you. He's cold and off putting, never giving someone the decency of pretending that he liked them if he didn’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile outside of when he’s beating another man to a pulp. But he’s not scary. There’s no way the man you’ve watched groggily eat Eggos straight from the freezer could ever be scary.

But part of what makes Bradley such a security is that he’s reliable. He’s predictable. He grumbles about all the makeup you leave on his bathroom counter and silently lets you under his blankets whenever you have nightmares. He’s an intimidating mass of muscle on the occasions you go out, eyes vigilant while you’re too busy focusing on finding the ripest avocados. He’s guarded — quiet. 

He is not the man who is currently howling loudly as he hangs from a stripper pole in the back of a party bus. 

You feel out of place, both you and Natasha squeezed between two groups of scantily clad women, getting closer and closer to emulating a pack of sardines each time the bus makes a sharp turn. To your left, a group of men are doing lines, letting out ear-piercing whoops, and you wince.

“Is he like this a lot?” You ask Natasha over the bass boosted music, you’ve never seen Bradley this animated before and it’s throwing you. 

Natasha snorts. “Only when Maverick gets his hands on him. For a guy who’s 57, he’s fucking wild.”

You suppose that makes sense. Bradley’s win tonight was huge, some of the bets put on him were almost as expensive as buying a house. You’d lost sight of him after the fight — you assume that’s when he’d met with Maverick, because he came back to you almost an hour later hollering in celebration. And Bradley Bradshaw doesn’t holler. 

The song changes abruptly to something Pitbull-esque and it appears Bradley isn’t a fan as he hops down from the stripper pole. You’re slightly hesitant to see what he does next, there’s hardly enough room for you and Natasha to sit comfortably let alone for Bradley’s 6’6’’ frame to squeeze in too.

You squawk in surprise when he lifts you effortlessly with one arm, taking your seat from you and plopping you on his lap.

“Mmm,” he treats you like a personal teddy bear, manhandling you into a position he likes as you try to wriggle away in mortification. “Missed ya, toots.”

You stop your movements. 

What?

One of his large hands is splayed over your thighs, hiding the skin from view as your skirt rides up. The other can’t seem to decide what it wants to do, moving from your hip, to your side, to your stomach.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans, his nose burrowing into the nape of your neck.

What is going on?

You try to crane your neck to look at him, but he growls in protest, his fingers pinching your inner thigh lightly. You gulp, “...Bradley?”

He relaxes further into the upholstered seats of the party bus, taking you with him, and you cling to his arms in response to the sudden loss of your balance. It's in the movement that you realize Natasha had up and left you at some point during all this and you’re kind of glad she did, given that you don’t hate what’s currently going on. But you also don’t really know what’s going on either.

“Love when you wear shit like this this, tootsie,” Bradley murmurs, rubbing the denim hem of your skirt between his fingers. “So fuckin’ cute.”

You bite your lip, flustered as he traces the skin of your thighs. “Thank you.”

His head drops to your neck again and he sporadically presses kisses everywhere from your shoulder to your collarbone. You try to rationalize that he’s just drunk and tired, that you’re the closest thing he can correlate to a bed right now and that’s the reason he’s suddenly acting so clingy. Because Bradley’s guarded — not affectionate. 

“Was thinkin’ about you,” he slurs against your skin. “Knew I had to win tonight ‘cause you get sad when my face is all beat up.”

You try to fight his grip, huffing in annoyance. He always makes fun of you for being worried about him. “Well, I’m sorry for caring about you.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, tootsie,” Bradley’s arms squeeze around you again, holding you to him and you're absolutely no match for his strength. “I just don’t like seein’ you sad.”

The confession catches you off guard, as does the hand of his that’s suddenly tracing up your stomach. It’s only one of his hands though, the other staying firmly planted on top of your thighs. For as clearly intoxicated as he is, he seems to have a very good handle on making sure he doesn’t accidentally cause you to flash everyone else in the party bus. 

Bradley’s thumb traces the underside of your breast through your shirt absentmindedly and you can’t help but squirm at the tingling sensation it sends to the lower pit of your stomach. The movement causes Bradley’s hand to slip slightly, his fingers brushing against your core, and you both freeze.

Bradley pulls his hand out from your skirt slowly, like he’s expecting to see the arousal glistening on his skin, and you have to bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“You wet for me?” When you don’t respond, he continues, his voice dropping an octave. “I asked you a question, toots. If I put you over my lap right now and checked, would your pretty panties be clingin' to ya?”

Your breath hitches when he lifts his neck slightly to nip your earlobe, his words ghost the shell of your ear. “With this tiny skirt of yours, I bet I could push them aside and slip right in and no one would notice. Fill you up so good just sitting right here.”

“Brad-Bradley,” you shakily grab his wrist, stopping him from sliding his fingers under your skirt again. Luckily he gets distracted measuring your hand in comparison to his own, looking at the size difference in wonder. “We can’t. You’re obviously drunk.”

“Mm,” Bradley agrees, though he doesn’t really seem to be listening. “I’d probably be too big for you. Haveta stretch you out real good to make it all fit. Maybe I’ll just rub my dick through your folds real nice instead, hmm? Get you creamin’ all over my cock and balls until my itty bitty tootsie’s ready for me, yeah?”

He's staring at you from your shoulder, eyes almost black with lust and smile much too innocent for the words that had just left his lips.

“Yeah,” you stutter out, your panties sufficiently drenched at the idea, and you have to physically shake your head to clear your thoughts. “I mean— I mean, no Bradley. Not when you’re like this.”

You need him to stop talking about all the things he wants to do to you or you might genuinely climax in the back of a party bus from his filthy mouth alone. How Bradley can just say this stuff with random strangers present — granted they’re hardly paying attention to you — you have no idea.

“Can we cuddle tonight?” He asks suddenly and you didn’t know it was possible to almost break your neck from metaphorical whiplash until now. “I miss holding ya.”

Bradley goes back to pressing kisses to your neck, his arms now wrapped somewhat respectfully around your middle and his hands holding down the denim of your skirt. He nuzzles his nose into your skin with a satisfied rumble that emanates from his throat. You’re finding it very hard to believe this is the same man who was offering to give you a pussyjob just mere minutes ago. Your thighs clench in remembrance, or maybe it's just Bradley squeezing you contently, but your focus doesn't last long as a sudden thought dowses you like ice water.

How on earth were you supposed to look Bradley in the eye after this?!

#okay i'm gonna go to work now haha #see ya at 10:30! #just thought i'd give y'all a lil something bc i'm the best mayor or whatev 😌 #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw x toots #monsters in the dark #under the hard deck #buggy's got a pen

[bookshelf-dust]

something like that.

eddie munson x fem!henderson!reader

word count: 3,795

warnings: swearing, smoking (tobacco usage), mentions of anxiety and insecurities, reader doesn’t have a friend group :(( sexual innuendos, teeny bit of angst, mostly fluff

a/n: in case of any confusion, in my head, this is a world where Vecna will not be happening, so the kids start high school like normal, and Eddie joins the gang, etc. etc., chaos and teenagedom ensue. also, reader and will talk about boys!! eek!! anyways, i wanted to write more for eddie, and just went ham and this is what happened. and i love sleepovers!! and dusty bun!! i hope you like it! <333 also!!! i have a little over a hundred followers?? that's crazy to me!! i am thankful for every last one of you little squishies (even though i still need to check for bots). <333

————

Hellfire had ended about half an hour ago and from what it sounded like now, only Eddie was left, helping Dustin clean up out in the living room. It was getting late, after midnight.

The school was actually putting on a theater production for once, so they’d been temporarily kicked out of the drama room, Dustin’s house being the decided place of meeting until they could go back.

You grabbed for the towel sitting next to the sink on the counter whilst trying to blink the water off of your eyelashes. Patting your face dry, you straightened, hearing footsteps outside of the bathroom door.

They weren’t Dustin’s, who’s were always heavy—like a stomp—but were just a bit lighter, the strides further apart. Eddie. It wasn’t like you were hiding, seeing as you’d left the bathroom door open to begin with.

The steps stopped, the sound of knuckles on a doorframe. You peeked over the top of your now-wet towel. Eddie’s hands were behind his back, a kind sort of grin on his face. “How can I help you this evening, Mr. Munson?” You asked, drawing a snort from the boy.

You lowered the towel, drying off your arms where the water had run down.

“I have been instructed by the younger Henderson that I should ‘just stay the night’ due to the current time. Wanted to let you know. Do you know where my toothbrush is?”

His statement didn’t shock you, nor bother you. It wasn’t the first time Eddie had stayed after a long night of vigorous D&D playing. That was why Dustin had a trundle bed, after all. For sleepovers. Now the lower mattress just had a twenty year old amongst the Star Wars sheets as opposed to a fifteen year old Will or Lucas.

You tossed the towel back on the counter, crouching to dig around under the sink, looking for the red travel container belonging to Eddie’s Henderson-Household-toothbrush. Finding purchase, you stood, holding it out to him.

“For your dental hygiene, my liege.”

“Thank you.”

You returned to putting moisturizer on your face, passing Eddie the toothpaste from where you’d left it moments ago. You smirked at him in the mirror where he had foam all over his mouth, and he bumped your shoulder with his.

Spitting and rinsing his mouth clean, he turned to you. “May I use some of that, M’lady? My skin has been shit lately.”

“Sure thing.” You held the container of lotion aloft, allowing him to dip his finger into the contents a few times, dabbing the cream onto his face.

“Thank you,” he said, watching you screw the lid closed. You observed him as he rubbed it in, fingers swiping over the circles under his eyes, his tongue poking out in concentration. You tried to not stare, not to think about how it would feel to do it yourself.

“Better?”

“Much.” You patted him on the shoulder, heading off to bed.

Flopping down on your mattress, you took the chance to breathe.

You had feelings for Eddie. They’d been almost instantaneous after you got to know him through Dustin. After you saw the way he welcomed your younger brother, how excited he got to have new members in his club. The way he was always sweet to you, always thanked you for putting up with them when Hellfire met at your home.

And there were those times that he’d smile at you, his gaze lingering for just a little too long. The time you’d come home late after spending too long at the bookstore, and thought you had interrupted Dustin hanging out with his friends. Max had come over to see what you’d bought, like always, and Eddie had asked you to watch a movie with them.

And one day you’d smacked into him in the hall at school, and he’d taken one look at you and known. Known you were stressed. He could feel your hands shake as he steadied you, see the worry in your eyes. He’d asked you to sit with him at lunch, and no one had asked any questions. He’d told you he’d always be around if you wanted to talk.

Things like this made you wonder. Wonder whether he was just being nice to Dustin’s older sister, or if he maybe in some way cared about you a little more.

Because he was so sweet. Maybe he was like this with everyone, even if he could be a little intimidating sometimes.

You just didn’t know. But really, when you thought about it, and you did, you weren’t his type. You were quiet, lacking a friend group. He was the opposite of you. There was no way.

————

You pattered down the hall, pulling a sweatshirt over your head, in search of sustenance. Dustin had slept with the door cracked, and you peeked in, seeing both him and his older friend passed out. You pretended like the skin of Eddie’s back that you could see where his shirt had ridden up didn’t affect you.

You dug around in the freezer, in search of the Eggo’s you knew were hidden in the back. Scrambling for purchase, you latched on to the chilly box, and went to shut the door.

“Fuck!” You jumped at the figure that had materialized during your search.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Eddie chuckled, reaching to tie up his sleep matted hair.

“You’re fine. I just thought everyone else was still sleeping.” You opened the box, ripping at the plastic wrap separating you and waffles. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie leaned against the counter, watching you struggle with the packaging.

“We have waffles, clearly. There’s cereal, or I can make you something. Like toast, or…” you paused, thinking. “That’s it actually.” Eddie smiled at you and you swear your heart felt like it was going to fly out of your chest and onto the floor in front of you, gory as that may seem.

“Waffles are fine. You don’t have to make them, though. I do know how to use a toaster.”

“You’re the guest, Munson. And technically, I’m in charge, so I can’t have you setting the kitchen aflame this early in the morning.” He was smiling at you again, those big brown eyes seemingly putting you in a trance. “How many do you want?”

Eddie tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Four.”

You took four waffles out of the box and popped all of them in the toaster, thankful your mom had bought one with that many spots. “Do you want them burnt? How done do you like them?” You asked, fingers waiting above the dial before pressing the lever.

“However you do yours is just fine.” You rolled your eyes at him, moving to get the syrup out of the fridge.

Eddie watched you move around the kitchen. He liked watching you, seeing your mind work as you pulled out plates and forks and butter. He didn’t think anyone had the right to be this gorgeous this early in the day, eyes still puffy from sleep, sheet marks on your cheek.

You spun around aimlessly in the kitchen, waiting for his waffles to finish, trying not to think about how pretty he looked. How he had on these sweatpants he’d left over and his ass looked fucking exquisite. Stop. “Sleep okay?”you inquired, trying to quit your middle-school-crushing.

Eddie laughed. It was gravely and deep and comforting. “Yeah. I know that mattress is a twin, but it’s much better than my one at home. Dustin does snore though, you know that?”

“It’s horrendous. Always has been.”

The waffles popped up at that exact moment, making you jump and then turn around to retrieve them. You put them on a plate, then popped your three in while you opened the butter for Eddie and handed him a knife.

By the time he finished buttering and syruping, your waffles were done and he passed the accoutrements off to you. You picked up your finished plate and realized he was waiting on you. “I’m going to eat these in my room, unless you want to sit out here. But I got in trouble for getting syrup on the couch and the dining chairs hurt my ass.” He laughed again.

“Can I join you?”

“That was the point, Munson.”

You plopped down on your bed, spreading a napkin over your lap. Eddie sat leaning against the wall, long legs crisscrossed, his knee almost touching yours.

“Are your Eggo’s up to par?”

He nodded enthusiastically at you. “Yep.”

The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, munching away. But then you looked up at him, and Eddie reached out, wiping syrup off of your cheek where it had apparently taken refuge. That was all fine and dandy. But then he raised his thumb to his mouth, and sucked the substance off of his skin, keeping eye contact with you. Suddenly it was very hot. You felt like you needed to take your sweatshirt off.

“You like the syrup that much?” What else were you going to say? Shit, you had to be fucking beet red.

“Something like that.”

————

Ever since The Waffle Incident, as you’d creatively named it, you’d been trying to avoid Eddie, for the most part, or at least not bother him. It wasn’t so much avoiding as it was just not crossing his path as often.

There was no possible way he could have feelings for you. You were his best buddies older sister, for fucks sake. You were probably a nuisance.

Always taking Dustin places, hanging around the house when they played. Eddie probably thought you were fucking obnoxious.

You just didn’t want to bug him. He was trying to finish school, plan campaigns, spend time with his friends before things changed. You were just some girl who’d come along with her sibling.

Shit, Dustin was your only friend. Best to not think about your feelings anymore.

But you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your head. “Something like that.”

Today though, your mom had asked you to pick up Dusty from Hellfire because she had book club. So here you were, parked a little outside the doors where they usually let out, the school play finally done and the drama room available to them once again.

Dustin practically leapt out to the car, dying to tell you that he'd won the campaign, beat the shit out of the ogre that was meant to have killed him. He related all of this once you berated him for not yet having his seatbelt latched, going on about dice numbers—stuff you still didn’t entirely comprehend. You’d played with him a couple times, but lately he’d abandoned teaching you.

"I invited everyone over for a sleepover on Friday. So if you could make yourself scarce, that'd be great. I'd tell you to go out with your friends or something, but..." He cocked his head, screwing his face up in pity.

"Damn." You tried not to feel hurt, considering he was right about your failures in the friend department. “Who’s everyone? Also, didn’t you just have a sleepover with Eddie?”

“Jealous, are we? Max and Lucas. Mike.” He held up his hands, counting off with his fingers. “Gareth and Eddie. Jeff has to babysit.”

“Thrilling,” you trailed off. “Wait, what about—”

“Will? Yes, your favorite shall also be in attendance.” You laughed in triumph.

Maybe you shouldn’t have favorites of your brother’s friends, but Will was too good for this world.

————

It was just after dinner when Will had made his way down the hall to your bedroom. He was now sat next to you while you talked to Joyce, who Will had promised to call like always--at least twice--with an update of his activities and assurance that everything was okay.

You told Joyce that he was doing really, really good. This was one of the first few "normal" experiences he was trying to get back in the hang of, considering starting high school had been so tough on him.

It was hard to tell when it really started, maybe when Dustin brought him to the park one day forever ago. Will and you were the quiet ones, but the ones that could get oh so excited about things you were probably to old to be getting excited about.

He was just a really, really sweet kid. And he'd been through more than enough trauma for a lifetime.

You handed the phone off to Will, who answered his mom's questions begrudgingly, albeit with a smile on his face. "I know mom, I promise I'm having fun and I swear I will call you if I need something. But--y--yeah, Y/N is here. I know. I love you, too mom." He leaned over to set the receiver back in its place.

"What movie are you guys watching tonight?"

"Weird Science. You know, the one with your boyfriend in it."

"Robert Downey Jr. or Anthony Michael Hall? You're gonna have to be more specific." Will looked at you in shock.

"Anthony? Really? I thought we were bonding over brown eyes, I didn't even know you liked him."

Will had told you about his feelings more than anyone else besides Jonathan. He was working on Joyce. Not everyone knew yet. Specifically that he liked boys and he was more than happy to gush over them with you.

A knock at the door. "Yeah? You can come in. He's super cute, Will."

Eddie appeared, curls bouncing, propped against the door frame. "Who's 'super cute'?"

“Me.” You said, feigning confidence.

“That is true.” What the fuck was wrong with him?

Eddie turned to look at Will, a smirk on his face, pretending he hadn’t just said that. “I was asked to see if you were ready to watch the movie.” Will told him he was and smiled at you before stealing your blanket and fleeing the room.

“You comin’?” Eddie asked you and you shook your head.

“I was told to remain scarce. Besides, I’ve seen it loads.” Eddie pushed off the wall, walking to your bed and perching where Will had been.

“So you’re just gonna sit in here all night?”

“No. I’m gonna read. This isn’t the first sleepover I’ve had to stay out of, Eddie.” You sounded kind of annoyed, without really meaning to.

He put a hand on your knee. “Did I piss you off? I feel like I haven’t really seen you lately.”

“No, of course you didn’t piss me off. We just run in different circles, Eddie.”

To him, you sounded tired.

Something clicked in Eddie’s mind at that comment. You didn’t think that he could possibly give a shit about you. Maybe you thought he shouldn’t give a shit about you.

But Eddie knew how he felt. He liked you. He liked you a whole-fucking-lot, and seeing you clearly upset over something, maybe him, really hurt him.

“Go watch the movie, Eddie. Hang out with your pubescent friends.” You smiled at him, but you were still rubbing your head, trying to prevent a stress headache from forming.

Eddie sighed, but left anyways, and you immediately wished he hadn’t.

————

There was another knock on your door. You glanced at the red numbers on your side table, it was after midnight. Again. Dustin was quite the snooze, and you didn’t know who would be up. “Yeah?”

Your door opened, slowly, slowly. Curls. Eddie. Eddie in plaid pajama pants and a Black Sabbath shirt. “You’re awake.”

“It’s only midnight.” He snorted at your statement moving into your room and shutting the door behind him.

“Come with me,” he said, making you close your book.

“Where are we going?”

“Outside. Everyone else is asleep. Every last one of those little shits.” He dug around in his pocket, pulling free a pack of Marlboros, and then holding out his hand, beckoning you. “Come on, man. Let’s go.”

You led the way down the hall and through the living room, tiptoeing around the mattresses Dustin had drug out from his room, the blanket piles, the pillows. Although you couldn’t help but notice how closely Will and Mike were sleeping next to each other. How Dustin was definitely drooling on Gareth. How Lucas held Max on the couch.

You unlocked the door, holding it open just so to prevent creaking, and Eddie slipped out before you.

The both of you plopped on the porch steps. “Is this okay?” Eddie held his lighter aloft. You told him it was fine.

Eddie was careful to blow the smoke away from you, but he kept a knee touching you the whole time.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

Yeah, actually. You were. You didn’t have the energy to keep dragging it on any longer. What good was it going to do keeping it in?

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I have feelings for you.” Eddie’s head swung towards you from where it had been watching the ash fall for his cigarette.

“But maybe it’s that you’re friends with my brother. You’re his friend, not mine, and you don’t have to keep pretending to be. Because you being nice to me is a little too much lately. You don’t have to act like you care because I’m related to Dustin. You don’t have to pretend your friends with me too.”

“Because I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type, Eddie. And I’m not entirely sure that I should even be telling you this. I’m half sure you think I’m a nuisance.”

Eddie rose, stepped away from the stairs, moved to stand in front of you. His eyebrows were pinched together, and he looked frustrated.

“Listen to me, yeah?” Another drag, turn of the head to blow the smoke out into the night air. “I don’t really think you get to tell me who I like. And it’s killin’ me that you think I couldn’t like you because I’m friends with your brother. That you’re, what, just his sister and what you feel doesn’t matter?”

He dropped the cigarette, snubbed it out with his shoe, and then picked the butt up and tossed into the outside trash bin.

Eddie crouched in front of you, setting his hands on the brick on either side of you. “Is that what you think?”

“Eddie—”

“Don’t. Tell me.”

“Dustin got to high school and found you guys. He’s happy. He’s doing well, for the first time in a long time. I haven’t had any of that. I’m not going to take that away from him. You’re his friend, Eddie. And you’re so sweet to everyone, so maybe you’ve just been being sweet to me. I just—I’m not like you. I wouldn’t expect you to feel anything for me.”

Eddie felt like he’d been shoved to the ground. He could practically feel the cold of concrete beneath his fingertips as if he had. Feel the sting of shallow scrapes and dirt in the cuts.

“I do, though. I feel a lot for you.” He swept his thumb across your cheek. “I don’t know, maybe it’s your laugh. The way you went red when I got the syrup off your face.” Another swipe. “That you knew where my toothbrush was. The way you move around. How much you love Dustin and how I can see it. How you are with Will the Wise."

“I might have shepherded your little lost sheepie of a brother, but I’m not just putting up with you because I have to. I’m not just being nice to you. And you’re not a nuisance. Not in the slightest. What if I wanted you, huh?”

“‘Cause I do. And I don’t wanna hear shit about you ‘not being my type,’” he used air quotes for emphasis, and you took a moment to look at his bare hands, Sharpie marks along his fingers. When he put them down again, rather than land on the steps, they landed on your knees.

“I don’t know what you think my type is. But it’s you.”

Eddie looked at you with watery brown eyes. You reached out and tapped your index finger on his nose, and his face split in a grin, smile lines forming around his mouth.

“What was that for?”

“You’re just really sweet. I love your nose.”

“Yeah?” He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, making you laugh.

“Yeah. Come inside with me.” You reached for his hand, pulling him up with you.

You turned to the door, opening it carefully and sneaking back in. You peeked in, thinking everyone was still asleep.

What you didn’t know was that Will had woken up, and caught the two of you walking down the hall. But he knew about your thing for brown eyes, and found himself going right back to sleep. Since you were so good at keeping his secret, he was perfectly capable of minding his own business about this.

————

“Do you wanna sleep in here with me? I know my bed is a twin, but we could make it work. Unless you want to go back out in the living room.”

Eddie kicked his shoes off and then pulled off his socks.

“A sleepover? You want me to sleep in your bed? I love sleepovers.” You laughed at his enthusiasm, despite the sleep seeping into his features.

You climbed into bed, patting the space next to you and the wall, waiting for him to join you. Eddie bounded over, leaping across you and settling under the covers.

You reached up, separating your usual stack of two pillows and spreading them out a little so that Eddie would have some support. His arm lifted, but he stopped himself. “Is this okay?”

“Yep.” Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer. He tucked his other hand under his cheek, and smiled as you did the same, your opposite hand rubbing his back.

"What about this?" He leaned in, nose almost brushing yours.

"Yeah, I think I'll let it slide." Eddie snorted again, that sweet little breath of a laugh.

He moved until his lips touched yours, and kissed you short and sweet. His lips were soft, and he was grinning for the entirety of its short life span. You kissed him back, and then he pulled away, smooching your forehead with an audible and overexaggerated sound that made you laugh.

“You’re gonna have to go back out there in the mornin,’ you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed your hair away from your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll make my escape at some point. But I can’t promise you’ll want to give me up that easily.” He’d been smiling like an idiot before he even finished that one.

————

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

#eddie the banished #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #corroded coffin #hellfire club #dustin henderson #henderson!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #will byers #byler #savannah’s fics

[byrdtrolls]

Errands

“So this is- another vegetable?” She asks, fingernail tracing down the grocery list.

“It's- well, technically it's a fruit. But it’ll be near produce.” Mondes answers. 

“Right- and this too?” She asks. 

“No, it's a dried spice.” He says. “Look. It’s an intergalactic market. It’s not rocket science. Just look for the stuff with these names in front. It’ll be labeled.” The oliveblood’s eyes trail down the list at gray smudges where Bee touched the paper. He stares. 

“Did you… not seal your paint?” He says. 

“Do what?” She pauses. 

Mondes once again sighs, heading to the bathroom, digging through the cabinet.

“You have to seal that shit- or it’ll get everywhere- and people will either think you wear way too much foundation- or they’ll know you’re trying to hide something.”

The violetblood wrings her hands, but takes the bottle of fixer he’s handed her. 

“You really think trolls would notice a thing like that?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be paranoid?” He answers, crossing his arms. 

“I’m actually supposed to be trying hard not to do that. According to my therapist” She says, applying the fixer to the layer of foundation they had used to cover her many violet freckles. Suddenly, she pauses. 

“This is a bad idea,” She says. 

“You know, I still helped with groceries and chores, when I was a fugitive.” Mondes answers. 

“I don’t know if I can do it as well as you can” She pleads. 

“I don’t know how much more tired I can get of you weaponizing your incompetence. It’s just groceries. You’ve already gone out with Hanagi- and without paint, even.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t like, alone for that” She says, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I don't know what half of these things are! What if I’ve forgotten some other stupid thing like the paint sealer!” Mondes sighs, glancing at the clock and back at the front door. The man walks off, muttering something she can only assume to be curses under his breath. 

She stands in the kitchen, glancing down at her hands. The more she thinks about it, this can’t be her natural gray skin tone. It’s way too obvious. Or is she imagining it? She turns her hands over. 

Mondes returns, setting two reusable grocery bags on the table. 

“Fine” he says “I will go with you. Once.” He says. “Then you do it alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” She answers. 

“Apparently, I do,” He retorts. Walking out of the hive towards the spaceship. 

She swallows, standing a moment before following him out into the moonlight. 

.

.

.

.

.

The market is sparse this early. Mondes navigates it with ease. This grocery store was the closest to his hive- he’s been there dozens of times with how often he cooks. 

“I see,” Bee says, picking up one of the list’s items, recognizing the sign. “It’s a fruit.” 

“Yeah” Mondes explains. “There’s like- red melony flesh in the arms” He says, pointing to the alien produce. 

“Is it good?” She asks. 

“Not raw. I’m using it for pies” He retorts, his eyes trailing over to where one of the cashiers is eyeing the two of them. Bee follows his gaze, and sets down the fruit. 

“Should we get out of here?” She mutters in a lower tone. 

“Cus the cashier looked at you? No, "he says. “I still need rice noodles. You’re gonna get a lot of stares going out in public hemoanon. It’s just what happens.” He mutters back, heading down another asle. Bee glances back at the purpleblood whos still watching them like a hawk, before scurrying after Mondes. 

“Could you stop being so suspicious?” He says, annoyed. 

“I was just walking. Do you think they recognized me?” She whispers frantically.

“Just stop looking at him,” Mondes mutters. 

“We should leave,” She pleads. 

Mondes inhales, grabbing the last of his items. 

“Fine- let's go. Be normal” He says, walking towards the self checkout. Bee, to give her credit, is doing her best not to look at the cashier, but in a way that's somehow even more suspicious, twisting her head to strange angles to keep him out of her line of vision. 

Mondes is counting to ten in his head, scanning his items at a practiced pace, praying this wouldn’t all go to shit somehow. The machine coughs up their receipt, and he grabs it, the two of them heading towards the door. 

The cashier blocks their path. 

“Excuse me ma'am” he says, staring down at Bee. “Could you empty your pockets?”

“What?” She says, staring at the floor. “Why?” 

“So I can see you didn’t take anything from the produce section.” He says. “Saw you pick up those fruits” 

“Yeah- Mondes is buying some, it’s right there in his bag” She squeaks. 

“I said pockets,” The cashier insists. Mondes gently nudges Bee with his elbow. Bee seems to take the entirely wrong message from this, and straightens her back. 

“You know,” She says. “We did nothing wrong! We picked up a fruit and bought it from your store.” She insists. “Mondes paid for it! You saw us at the self checkout!” 

“Bee” Mondes says frantically, trying to nip this in the bud. 

“Did I see that?” the cashier retorts. “I don’t know what I saw,” he says. “Let me see those bags.” 

Mondes, ever the rationalist, hands over the grocery bags. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” He says. “I’m sorry about her- but if you look at the receipt, I’m sure you’ll find everythings in order.” He says. 

The cashier pulls the receipt from the bag, scanning it as if searching for something wrong. Then he takes out several fruits. He weighs the fruit in his hand, and then says. 

“I don’t think you weighed all of these. Wrong price for this weight.” He accuses. 

“That is ludicrous” Bee hisses, and Mondes elbows her again. 

“Sorry” he says. “Honest mistake. We can go over and reweigh them right now. I’ll pay twice.” He says. “I’m a regular- I come here all of the time. We don't want any trouble”

“That’s- illegal! We already paid for that fruit! Your machine weighed it! Roll back your security tapes” She says, pointing at the shop camera. 

“Shut up Bee” Mondes retorts through gritted teeth. 

“Get out of my shop” The cashier says. “Before I call the cops.” 

“Fine” Mondes says, turning to leave.

“We paid for that! The receipts are right there!” Bee insists, yanking the bags out of the cashier's hands. “You just lost two valuable customers” She hisses as she storms off. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mondes snaps once they’re out of the store doors. 

“I got us our food” She says slowly. 

“I wanted to be able to come back to that market” He insists. “Now I’m gonna have to drive across town! Why could you keep your fucking mouth shut!” 

Bee opens her mouth to retort, but instead stares past Mondes’s shoulder. He picks up what's happening just in time, and ducks before the purpleblood, who apparently followed them out of the store, takes a swing at him with a crowbar. Bee dives in between the two of them, pulling a switchblade from her pocket. 

“You’re not gonna rob my fucking store” The cashier insists. “And get away with it.” 

“We PAID!” She snaps, “Don’t make me attack you!” 

“Oh what, a tiny little girl with a knife? I’m soooo scared. You want me to find out exactly what kind of mutant you are? When i smash your brains into the-” 

And there was probably more to his tough guy monologue, but Bee has already sprung into action, grabbing his outstretched arm and yanking it forward, slamming him into the alleyway and disarming him in one move, she bends back his arm and presses the knife to his throat. 

“We didn’t rob your fucking store” She insists, one last time. “And you saw nothing here, capiche? Unless you want me to slit your throat” She says. 

“Fucking bitch” He coughs. “You and your little friend are banned for life, you hear?” 

“Don’t tempt me” She says, pressing the knife forward. 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Let him go. More trouble than he’s worth.” He says. 

Bee stares at the man like she’s about to argue, but then loosens her hold, and the purpleblood falls to the ground, sputters, and then runs off. 

“What part?” Mondes hisses. “Of low profile, do you not fucking understand?” 

“I- what was I supposed to do! Let him charge you twice!” She snaps. 

“Yes,” he says. “I have the money.” 

“He attacked us for no reason!” She snaps. “He was bending over backwards to justify robbing us of food we bought! We didn’t do anything wrong!” 

Mondes stares for a long moment, and then his head falls into his hands. She thinks for a second he’s crying, but no, the oliveblood is laughing maniacally. 

“What’s so funny?” She says, slowly. 

He exhales. “Do you hear yourself?” He says. “Do you think about words before they come out of your mouth? Oh my fucking g-d, poor Bee, he made an assumption about you based on your blood color and then doubled down for no fucking reason? That must suck so much for you. I’m playing you nievole blanche on the world's tiniest cello. Can’t imagine what that feels like!” He throws up his arms. “Welcome to the glorious life of a lowblood! Not so fun on the other end, is it? Huh? Give me a fucking break.” 

“I didn’t know it was this bad” She mutters quietly. 

“You didn’t know it was this bad?! You didn’t know it was this bad?!!” He snaps. “You have more than one limeblood sibling!! How far was your head up your ass your entire grubhood! Thank Dia and Calsya for the slap I’m about to give you, for fucks sake!” He rants, raising his hand, jokingly. But pauses when Bee stiffens, flinching, a sudden look of horror crossing the violetblood’s face that twists into his heart like a knife. He stares, slowly, for a long moment, and then lowers his hand. 

“I’m- Kidding” He says, but his voice doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding his frustration. You can almost hear him counting to ten in his mind. “Sorry” the oliveblood spits out like a curseword. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just- you tried to have me executed for less. It’s more than a little ironic.” 

“I’m sorry” She says, “I should have known better. I didn’t mean to get you kicked out of that shop. I’m just, not used to this is all. I panicked.” She sighs. The violetblood stands still for a moment, and then leans down on her knees to start picking up the spilled groceries. He is almost content with that end to this conversation, but she keeps going, she ruins it, because of course she does. 

“You would have been right to slap me,” She says. “I wouldn’t stop you.” 

“No.” he says. “Not how this works. I know you’re an idiot. I know that you-” He pauses, the sentence dying on its feet. 

“You know what?” She says, slowly. 

“Nothing,” He says. “Forget it” 

“What do you know?” She repeats, going oddly still as she packs the groceries. 

“You wanna talk candidly about it?” he says. 

She does not answer for a while. “About what?” She says. 

He sighs. “I know you got abused.” He says. Bee’s movements grind nearly to a halt. 

“You know- the whole, your dad showing up at our hive, suddenly that fleet ladies dead- it’s not hard too- Everyone knows, I mean, even without that, you stumble through life like a scared rabbit hanging by a thread and it makes it so hard to be mad at you when I have every right to be. I just.” he exhales. 

“I knew that. So I shouldn’t have raised a hand at you. Knowing that. So I’m sorry for that specifically. I was right about everything else.” 

She places a box in the grocery bag. 

“I wish you’d hit me” She says, blinking. “At least that would make sense to me.” 

“You’ve gotta fucking- quit with that shit.” he says. “It really just makes me uncomfortable. I’m really not that kind of person.” He says. 

“I’m sorry” She repeats. 

“I know,” He answers. 

“It wasn’t- abuse” She says. “What happened to me.” 

“Bee,” Mondes says. “Who are we kidding here? Anymore? Exactly? Fine. My family has a lot of reasons to hate you. The whole Nandor thing? The whole getting beat up or fucked up mentally somehow by that teacher bitch? That’s not one of them. That’s one of the few things, me and Nesseo and everyone, are on your side about. So why mince words. Why keep defending that dead woman.” 

“I…” She says. “She was nice to me. Sometimes. A lot of the time. It wasn’t all… I’m not gonna make that my excuse. For what I became.” 

“Of course she was nice to you,” Mondes says slowly. “That’s how it fucking works- ask your therapist about, the cycle, or whatever- that’s how they get you. They’ll be awful and then nice and that’s why people stay even when they really shouldn’t.” 

She does not answer, staring at the fruit in her hand with dead eyes, unmoving. 

“I thought you loved excuses,” He says. “You’re really not gonna take this one?” 

“No,�� She replies. 

He stares at her for a long time. Trying to sort out the complex emotions tumbling through his mind into words. Failing. Eventually, he decides to say nothing at all, walking over to help her pick up the groceries. 

“I have one more errand,” Bee says.

“Okay” he replies.

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.

.

“You kept my aquarium stickers” Bee says, tracing them on the back of the spaceships pilot seat. 

“My quarrel is with you” Mondes says as he flies. “Not with the beluga whale.”

She almost smiles, staring at the open sky in front of them. 

“Besides” he continues. “Das loves them.” 

The two of them are silent for a moment. 

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Mondes says, floating along the shoreline. 

“Yes- the GPS says it’s right ahead” Bee replies, tapping her hand on the arm rest. 

“In the ocean?” He says. 

“Yes, it’s, half underwater, it’s the whole gimmick” She says. 

“It’s half underwater” Mondes repeats. “And they serve food?” He says. 

“I never claimed the man who runs it was intelligent,” She says. 

“Duly noted” He responds. “Oh- that looks like it” He says, pausing over a bridge that leads out to an illuminated pirate ship, that appears to have some sort of hive beneath it, under the water. He parks, the two of them lock the ship and climb down. And they just walk in. 

They are greeted by a server, who begins the most monotone of customer service monologues like the world's least enthusiastic actor, not even looking up from the register.

“Yo ho ho. Welcome to Buckles and Buckaneers. I regret to inform you that the lower deck is closed due to an octopuses infestation” 

“Octopi” Bee says, instinctively. 

“Octopi” Katash retorts, still not looking up at the two of them as she grabs menus. “In other, better news, calamari is half off! Only three caegers! We’re practically giving it away. Table for how many…” The seadweller trails of, having finally made eye contact with Bee. The woman simply freezes, mouth half open, for what seems like an age. Recognizing her instantly.

“Is the manager in?” Bee says softly. 

“Y-yes” Katash stutters. 

“Table for three,” She says. “If he’ll have me” 

#sighsssssss #mondes sigh counter: one billion #bee writing #mondes writing #my writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

[captcoups]

[🐰] one-night-stand gentleman (j.h)

✤ pairing: joshua x reader / non!idol.au / strangers-to-lovers(ish) / cheesy one-night-stand-trope / implied sex the night before / mentions of nudity (but nothing explicit!) / mentions of food and eating / 1,127 words ✤ turns out your one-night-stand just might be someone you want to see all the time now. [masterlist ⛵️]

the morning probes you awake when you feel light straining your eyelids as your eyes remain shut. with a soft grumble, you twist your body, eyes struggling to open as the aftermath of the night before begins creeping into your system; prying you awake. it takes every fibre in your being to open your eyes, only to not recognise the room that you were in. the scent that triggers your smelling senses dictates the smell of fresh sheets and... is that bacon?

“oh, you’re awake,” the voice that greets you makes you flinch when you realise you’re not alone. laying on your side, you push yourself up to rest on your elbow, gaping at–”you made breakfast?”

he–oh shit, what was his–joshua. right. that was his name. joshua grins and shakes his head, “i wouldn’t call it breakfast. maybe a snack?” he sets the plate by the bedside table where it’s easily within reach. it’s like he’s much more careful with you as if you were a wild animal that would dash off due to sudden movements, “in case you were hungry.”

he sees that you’re surprised, and he wonders if you ever noticed how cute you look. with the morning light past the blinds and when you’ve just woken up, joshua thinks you look gorgeous; the dim lights of the club and the pleasurable night before did absolutely nothing to hide your beauty. he leans against the doorframe, folding his arms with a small smile when he sees you’re hesitant to eat the food, merely eyeing it before you look up to him, clearing your throat.

“i’ll just–i could just leave, actually.”

“oh,” you don’t call out the hint of dejection you notice in his tone, his arms unfolding as he fidgets with his fingers, “s-sorry,” he licks his lips, meeting with your gaze, “am i making you uncomfortable?”

“eh?” you let out instinctively, feeling awfully confused with the situation. you swallow and try to read the room; or his face, but you find that you can’t do either when this isn’t the usual situation you find yourself in. with most people, you find yourself being ushered out of their homes but... joshua’s a little different. he doesn’t say anything and instead waits for you to gather your thoughts, pressing his lips to a thin line to stop himself from saying anything that could rub you the wrong way.

“i...” at the start of your sentence, you watch as he’s listening with the way his eyes widen in anticipation, “i didn’t want to overstay my welcome and i thought i should–”joshua shaking his head makes your train of thought pausing; barely making it to the station of where you were going to finish your sentence. the words remain in your throat as he lowers his gaze, down to his hands.

“i was... actually, i was wondering if you wanted to grab some food?”

you blink at him a couple of times, sitting up and pulling the blanket with you to cover your figure as joshua averts his eyes for a moment. when he doesn’t hear you responding, he turns the cheek and locks eyes with you once more, realising you’re being awfully quiet; contrasting the image he has of you the night before when you pulled him from the bar after far too many drinks, meeting him in the dance floor where he barely considered leaving you.

“y-you could wash up first if you want,” he points over his shoulder with his thumb, “bathroom’s out by the hall, first door on your left.”

he sees that you’re processing things; the way your eyes look at him, to his room (which you don’t think you can comment on the decor but to sum it up, it’s very well-put-together), to the snack he’s made, then back to his eyes once more. you take a deep breath and run your fingers through your hair, trying to find composure as you blink a couple more times to make sure you’re not asleep and just dreaming of what you want to be a reality. but... the longer you feel joshua staring at you, it doesn’t feel like a dream.

"you... don’t want me to just leave?” the bluntness of your words surprises him but it doesn’t deter him from speaking the truth. he chuckles and shakes his head again, his arms finding their way to fold in front of his chest once more, “quite the opposite, actually.”

he sees now that you’re surprised; the way your lips shift from ‘o’ to a small smile as you lower your head. he clears his throat and he smiles at you when he’s captured your attention, “i know a good spot nearby that serves great brunch. if you’re down?”

the silence when you don’t answer him makes him anxious. he knows you have every right (or smart choice) not to accept his offer. you barely know him. he barely knows you... but it’s the way you seem to consider his invitation that makes him hopeful. hopeful that this wouldn’t be the last time he sees you. that he wouldn’t need alcohol or lustful tendencies just to get to know you more. though, if your decision was to walk out of his home and never return, he expects it just as much, too. he’s drawn out of his reverie when you clear your throat, “well, i am hungry.”

you can see that he’s surprised, but it’s the good kind.

“g-great. we could... uh... we can–”

“could i get some clothes? i’d rather not wear the same clothes you threw on the floor,” you chuckle, sitting up a bit and the way he tries not to stare at your bare skin is adorable as it is innocent despite last night’s activities. “oh! right, i’ll just...” he steps into his room, making a beeline for the closet and while he’s rummaging, you notice–”hey, where’re my clothes, by the way? don’t tell me you’ve put them in the washer or something,”

you watch as his back stiffens as he turns around with a sheepish grin, “it’s... it is in the washing machine now,” he has this guilty look on his face, “sorry, i should’ve asked before–”

“it’s okay,” you cut him off, folding your arms over the blanket draped over your body, “i guess i can just come back to get it another time.”

joshua’s look of guilt turns into one of being shy... and happy. you hold back on the teasing when his ears are turning red and he diverts his attention to–”l-lemme get you something to wear,” he turns back around to go through his closet to find something for you to wear.

and this sight... is something you can find yourself getting used to, one day.

#svt scenarios #svt scenario #joshua scenarios #joshua scenario #joshua fluff #joshua x you #joshua x reader #joshua x y/n #hong jisoo #hong jisoo scenarios

[harlowtales]

Y/N has a chance meeting with Jack and his friends and it’s just the beginning

PART 1

18+ Adult Themes | Romance

You were in Kentucky on business when a well dressed big and tall man with dreadlocks approached you as you were looking at the menu at Ceviche, a high end restaurant and favourite spot to Jack Harlow and his crew The Homies.

“You always be looking so fine all alone?” The man asked

“Who wants to know?” You countered coyly. He sure had some nerve coming up to you and you kind of liked it.

“Name’s Quiiso. You can call me Quiis if you want.” He said extending his hand for you to introduce yourself.

“Y/N” you said sizing him up as he took a little too long to release your hand.

“You obviously from out of town because you have a different look about you. He said in the local smooth southern drawl.

“I am not from here you are correct Mr. Quiiso.” You said formally and took a sip of your margarita

“Margarita’s at lunch? Where’s the after party?” He asked “May I sit?”

“Quiiso, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but…” You started to explain but he cut you off as he felt rejected.

“Say less. Have a nice day.” He said and excused himself from your presence. All the Homies came in and they grabbed a booth in the back of the restaurant. You recognized all of them and knew exactly who he was. In playing it cool, you were concerned you had turned him off. You went to the bathroom to practice what you were going to say to fix the situation and the bad impression you left.

When you walked back to your table Jack Harlow was sitting in your spot. You froze.

“You can’t give my man a chance?” He asked as he relaxed in your chair.

“Um…my gosh. THE Jack Harlow?” You said after your mouth stopped hanging open.

“I am him.” He said with a grin as if he were some god.

“I came off rude, I was just shocked is all.” You explained. “Tell Quiiso I’m sorry.”

“I ain’t nobody’s messenger pigeon. Tell him yourself. We’re in the back booth.” And with that he went back to his crew.

You stood there for a moment gathering courage and walked up to a booth of about 10 guys just staring at you. This could go horribly wrong. “Hi Quiiso…I…I didn’t mean you couldn’t sit with me. I just..I…you’re welcome to come and chat for a bit at my table is what I mean. Only if you want to, and I would understand if you didn’t…but you can.” You were nervous and fumbling your words but it worked. It worked on everyone. They all looked at Quiiso.

“I have a better Idea” Jack said “We got room for one more right fellas?” They all nodded yes “Grab your plate and come on over.”

“Ok sure!” You said happily. All the awkwardness left you as they all seemed friendly. You returned to their table and sat next to Quiiso. He smelled amazing and was dressed in a shirt and tie.

“What’s the occasion? Everyone all dressed up?” You asked

“Celebrating a win that’s all.” Quiiso said “My project just dropped and doing numbers so I felt like celebrating. Did you listen to it?” He asked you

“What Lemon Peel? Um YES.” You answered with just the right amount of attitude and the table went nuts.

“Ohhhhh shit! She’s a real one!!” They said as they erupted in cheers for you. It was embarrassing but sweet.

You had the best time with them chatting taking selfies. Your friends were not going to believe this!

“Listen Y/N” Urban said “We’re having a game night at Jack’s place you should come by.”

“I’m alone in town I don’t think so but thanks for the invite.” You politely declined.

“We don’t bite. We get out old fashioned board games and just have fun. Other girls will be there too if that’s what you’re worried about.” Shane said

“Oh well that sounds like fun actually!” You said as he convinced you. As you were a few margaritas in you accepted the invitation a bit too loudly. A few of them tried to hide chuckling.

“Man good one Quiis baby. She’s cute. Real cute.” Jack said patting his friend on the back as you were due at other meetings for work and excused yourself.

“Yeah man you want help with that?” Urban asked

“Maybe” Quiiso said with a slight grin “Let the games begin fellas”. He watched your ass in your skirt as you walked away.

@okaaay-mice @ride4harlow @itsyagirljaz

#jack harlow #fanfic #romance #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow smut #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x reader

[asirensrage]

The Choice

Title: The Choice Fandom: MCU Rating: M Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Word count: 1891 Warnings: serial killer!Steve, choking, violence, use of a knife, threats, swearing, implied kidnapping, dark fic! (don't worry, the cat lives)

Summary: Based on the scary story prompts from @darkpromptsyouneveraskedfor. Prompts include: 11) "You're so pretty when you sleep, so peaceful." and 18) 'After a horror marathon, you check under the bed only to find out that you should've looked sooner.'

Horror prompts masterlist

Notes: This is a dark fic. It's violent. There's no redemption in this. The reader is not described in size and/or looks (but does mention wearing a bra). I don't usually write reader fics but this is how this one turned out.

Heed the warnings.

You don’t usually get scared. Well, not that scared. You’ve seen horror movies before and watching alone has never bothered you. Until this one because you can’t stop thinking about the way the man lived in their attic for years, just watching them. Maybe because you live alone now. 

Maybe you should get a dog. To go with your cat, Hershey. Something to add to the company and help warn you if anyone was hiding in your walls. Could they sense that? They had to. Though if a dog started barking at the wall, you might consider a ghost before thinking someone was actually in there. Either way, people were generally more afraid of dogs than they were of cats. It’d at least make you feel better.

With a mental note to check out the shelters, and your bank account, in the morning, you go through the process of brushing your teeth. You keep your back to the mirror if only to keep your mind from conjuring up images of something being there when you look at your reflection.

You don’t look back as you leave the bathroom, turning to enter your bedroom. You shimmy out of the sweatpants you’re wearing, letting them fall to the floor. You’re not wearing a bra, comfort being the prime goal when marathoning movies and the tank top you have on is one you sleep in. Easy to just crawl into bed, turn off the light and pass out while praying you didn’t manage to give yourself nightmares. 

At least, until you notice your cat at the edge of your bed, staring underneath it.

“What’s up? Lose something?” You ask softly. It’s not unusual for him to bat something under the bed or couch and then demand you rescue it. He didn’t move though, even as you reached down and stroked the fur on his back. “Or you just out to freak me out?” It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You sigh and kneel on the floor, grabbing your phone and turning on the flashlight before you look under the bed for the wayward toy. Eyes stare back at you. 

“Holy shit!” You recoil fast, dropping the phone and scrambling away. That wasn’t real. That wasn’t– All thought stops as a hand emerges from the darkness under your bed and grips the side of it. It uses the leverage to slide out. You stare in horror as the form becomes clear. It’s a man. A giant man considering how tall he is when he finally starts to stand. How did he even fit…before you even finish the thought, you run. 

You head straight for the door. It’s not far. Your apartment isn’t that large and while that used to be a good thing, now it just means less space to move, to have between you and whoever was under your bed. Still, it’s yours and you know it like the back of your hand. 

The door does not budge. It doesn’t matter that you unlocked it, and you tugged, over and over, it does not move. You look behind you and he’s standing there, in the doorway of your room, just watching. Fuck that. 

“It won’t work,” his voice sounds. 

You mentally calculate your chances and try it anyway. You head towards him and turn quickly, right before he can reach you. You slam the bathroom door behind you. You don’t have a lot of time and the apartment is terrible enough that there’s no real window you can use. Instead, you do the only thing you can. He’s breaking down the door. It cracks with every thump as he calls you by name. 

You use your elbow and break the mirror. 

There’s a moment of silence as though he realizes what you’re doing. You grab a washcloth and wrap it around the end of one of the shards and move closer to the door, waiting. Your heart is in your throat and you pray to whatever gods there are that he hasn’t hurt Hershey. That would be devastating. 

The door breaks, his hand punching its way through. You slice. Horror movies have taught you enough to aim properly. The glass digs into your hand but it doesn’t matter. You shove it down harder until it slices across the inside of his arm. There’s a reason people aim there when they commit suicide. You have to at least try. 

The arm retreats, the man swearing. 

You don’t have a lot of time. You yank open the door, using the moment that he’s trying to control the bleeding, to shove him back. He barely moves but you manage to slide past him, using the chance to stab him in the leg as well. You don’t stop though. 

You crash into the side table that is in the way. It’s not completely in the middle of the hallway but it’s enough that you hit it. “Fuck!”

You look back just to see if he’s still there. He is; walking slowly toward you like he’s Michael Myers. You take the stupid side table and throw it at him before running for the windows.

They won't budge. Your hands slip, slick with blood from where the glass dug in. That doesn’t stop you from trying but you can’t get a proper grip. Fine. You never liked them anyway. You grab the nearest heavy item, a lamp of all things, and try to use it to break the glass. It shatters instead. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye sends you jumping aside. He’s close enough to touch and you throw yourself over the couch to get some space. You scramble to get up but the man lands from his own jump. Before you can move, he’s on you, one hand wrapped around your throat. You kick at him, trying to get space. 

“Enough,” he snaps. He tightens his grip and your vision spots. He looks vaguely familiar this close. Like you’ve seen him before. “I’m going to give you a choice. Same choice everyone gets.” You struggle harder, kicking out and trying to catch him in the side. The pressure on your throat increases and you claw at the hand, at his face, anything to get some air because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe! Oh god. Your sight goes black first and you can still feel him on you, pressing down until it fades. 

You wake up coughing. His grip loose and you gulp at the air given, trying to breathe as your lungs burn and your throat hurts. Your head swims as you try to focus. You need to get out. You grab at the wrist of the hand that rests on your skin. 

 He doesn’t move though, still kneeling over you. His weight keeps you in place. 

“You ready to hear it?” His hand stays pressed against your throat. “You get to pick who dies, sweetheart. You or someone close to you. And don’t lie, doll, because I’ll know. Just like I know that you're so pretty when you sleep, so peaceful.”

“Oh god,” you moan. How long had he been watching you? How long had he been under your bed? You try to dig your nails into his hand, his joints, your neck, anything that will get the pressure to ease. It doesn’t. He tightens his grip and in moments, your vision spots again and tears leak from your eyes. You’re going to die here. 

He relaxes his grip just enough to let you breathe. “Choose.”

“Fuck you!” You snap through your tears. You can’t stop crying. Not when it hurts. Not when you know this is it.  

He grins and for a moment, he looks young. He looks like Captain America. How fucked up is that? You turn your head, determined not to play this game. Despite the hand on your throat, his other arm is holding him up as he leans over you. It doesn’t take much for you to move, just enough to sink your teeth into his skin. 

“Shit!” He yanks his arm back but you try to dig in harder. The human jaw can exert a fair amount of pressure and the mouth was dirty as anything. If you were lucky at all, you’d at least give him rabies or something. Not that you had rabies but sepsis works just as well. 

The hand on your throat tightens and he lifts you by your neck up just enough to slam your head back into the floor. You let go, dazed. You don’t know when you blacked out, or for how long, but you wake with a rasping cough, arms pinned now under his knees. You cannot move. 

“Choose,” he demands again. “You or someone close to you. A friend. Sibling. Parent…” 

“No,” you choke out, blinded by the tears rolling down your temples into your hair.

He reaches for something at his leg and through your blurred vision, you can make out a knife. “Everyone chooses. One way or another.”

“Fuck you!”

The blade of the knife is cold as it presses against your cheek. “Do you want to know who chose you?” he asks. He leans down, nose nearly touching yours. For a moment, you think he’s about to kiss you. You hope not. You hope he just kills you quickly and doesn’t press for anything else. “It was your coworker. You know the one. You told her that her boyfriend hit on you at the Christmas party. She called you a liar. Said you deserved to die more than she did.”

You remembered that. Miranda snapped at you, said you must have hit on him and tried to turn the tables when he rejected you. As if you’d waste your time with that asshole. What a– the world fades again.

“-bitch,” you croak out, upon waking up. 

“You pick her?”

“No!” You shake your head, as much as you can with him still holding you by the throat. 

“Pick someone,” he demands.

“Fuck you!” 

“You choose or I kill you,” he says. The blade presses harder against your cheek. “You can exchange your life for theirs. Pick.”

You muster up any courage you have left and spit at him. “Screw you, asshole! Kill me and get it over with!” 

He pulls back, his weight heavier as he straddles you. “You really mean that, don’t you?” He looks surprised before he grins again. “You want me to kill you. What if I say you can pick anyone? Doesn’t matter if they’re close to you.”

“Fuck you.” 

He laughs at that before he drops the knife. You stare at him, confused as he lets go of your throat. “Everyone always picks someone else. Always.” He stares down at you, looking almost awed. “Not you though.”

He grabs something else, pulling it from a pocket and you think you hear him mutter that he didn’t think he’d ever get to use it. He leans forward again, out of the range of your teeth and cracks the small container he has in one hand. Smoke releases and he holds it against your nose. You struggled harder, trying to get out. 

“Shhh,” the hand that was on your throat moves, pushing back your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Relax, I’ll be with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Your vision goes black.

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse 

#fic: the choice #steve rogers fic #dark!steve rogers #dark fic #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve x reader

[graytalents]

He broke my heart so bad, so I went and wrote this to make myself feel a little better. The dialogue in the first part is taken directly from a call after Saeran intrudes into the apartment.

It’s a little fluff and it’s a little hurt and it’s a little angst. It’s also long as fuck (for me). Also extremely self indulgent, so my bad.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped. “You know I’m working. You don’t want to be in danger forever, do you? And those clothes… I mean,” he paused.. “Never mind.”

“What about my clothes?” you breathed. You were wearing an oversized shirt, with small shorts reaching your upper thigh. To get around the apartment you opted for ankle length white socks.

“Aren’t you cold? You should dress warmer. Never mind. It’s none of my business,” he changed the subject. “I know you’re uncomfortable with me suddenly coming here. I’ll try to solve this as soon as I can and go back, so please. Just hang in there.”

You thought you detected a hint of pleading in his voice.

His voice was gruff again. “From this moment, I’m just going to stare at the wall and work, so don’t call me, and don’t talk to me. I need to focus.”

You could hear a pin drop in your room. Actually, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat, until he spoke again.

“But don’t disappear from me just cause of that. You can read if you’re bored,” his voice softened once more.

“And… wear a jacket, or something. And don’t skip meals just because I am. Okay? I’m going back to work.”

Click.

You stayed on the phone for a few more seconds, hearing the dead signal. Tears sprung into your eyes. What was happening? Where was the 707 you knew? You felt as though a switch had flipped, and you suddenly weren’t on the same wavelength as him anymore. Hell, you weren’t even in the same galaxy.

You sniffed and harshly wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. You missed the jokes and playful Seven. You missed finally having someone who understood you.

Now you just had this gruff contradiction typing away at his laptop in your living room. He ate his shitty junk food, and barely acknowledged you when you passed by him to get to the bathroom. He didn’t even glance at you when you grabbed more stationary near him to work on the guests for the charity party. You felt lonely and betrayed that he was not who he portrayed himself to be.

Unable to stop the tears completely, you went to the kitchen for a glass of water. You did not try to look at him this time, instead hurrying to the other room to avoid him. You doubted he’d care anyways.

You poured yourself the water from the jug in the refrigerator, and looked out the window. The city was beautiful, and despite the traumatic events that happened earlier with the hacker, you felt lonely and hopeful at the same time. It was a big world out there. Even if Seven did not care for you, you knew that you would be okay.

You were so lost in thought, you nearly jumped out of your skin once you felt a presence behind you. Dropping and shattering the glass, you yelped as you turned and saw the redhead frozen in place.

“Shit, shit. Sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll get that. Shit,” you said. You quickly dropped to your knees and began to pick up the large shards of glass.

“Ow, shit!” You sliced yourself on a piece of glass, and blood welled from the cut.

This was the last straw. You began to cry, thinking about how lonely you felt. You were very nearly kidnapped earlier, the man you thought you had gotten along with wanted nothing to do with you, and now you were bleeding from what was a very preventable event.

You did nothing stop the bleeding, instead hiding your eyes behind your bloodied arm and trying to stop yourself from wailing. It was embarrassing enough that Seven saw you like this, you didn’t need to make loud ugly sounds in front of him.

You stopped crying in surprise as you felt a paper towel blotting up the blood. Seven had knelt down in front of you, and was carefully cleaning you up.

“Hold still, yeah? You gave yourself a nasty cut there.”

He dabbed at the wound, eliciting a hiss from you.

You watched him clean your cut, being gentle with your hand. His kindness made the tears start anew, which startled him.

“Whoa, hey! It’s okay, you’ll be fine. Don’t cry like that, you’re scaring me.” He sounded unsure of himself.

You yanked your hand away and held it yourself, rocking back and forth.

“It’s just, I-I wanted you to like me too,” you sobbed. The stress of the past few days has started to get at you.

He could only stare at you, mouth agape. He knew he had to keep you at arm’s length, and not only because of his job. He had to keep you away because he was fundamentally damaged. His past was utterly traumatizing, and his current line of work was beyond dangerous. He was born in a shithole, and now he worked for shitheads to do shitty work. All he could see was shit.

But not you. You weren’t that. You were the first person he’d ever felt like he connected with after so many years. That’s why you had to stay the fuck away. And he’d chase you away by any means necessary.

Yet … his heart felt torn watching you sob. You had just been through a terrifying experience with Saeran and had no answers as to what any of it means. You’ve been in this foreign apartment for days now, helping plan a huge event, with strong characters you barely met or even know. Then you were nearly kidnapped by an intruder, all while Seven was emphasizing how much danger you’re in. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was a bomb in the apartment.

All of the uncertainty boiled over, and you felt lonely. You picked up the rest of the broken glass and disposed of it. You stood and walked over to the sink to rinse your arm. After debating internally for a moment, you grabbed a whiskey glass and poured the bitter liquid into the cup.

Seven watched you do all of this silently. You seemed almost angry now.

Blood still flowing from your hand, you nearly dropped the glass going back to your room. Seven lurched forward to grab the glass, and took you by your wrist to the bathroom. There, he had you sit on the toilet seat while he rummaged through the cupboard. He produced a bottle of cleaning alcohol, a cotton ball, and some wrap bandages.

He knelt in front of you, carefully dabbing at the wound and feeling sorry for you as you hissed at the sting. He took your hand and wrapped the bandage around. When he finished, however, he did not let go of your hand.

Instead, he sighed and bowed his head, forehead touching your fingers. You could see the stress and tension in his body. His shoulders hunched and tight, and you could almost feel the despair radiating off of him. This wasn’t the 707 you had spoken to over the messenger. The 707 you had spoken to was a facade, a front, and a one dimensional being. This Seven was real. You could see, touch, and smell him. This Seven contained tales and tragedies you couldn’t even dream of.

Gingerly, you reached out your uninjured hand and began to stroke his hair. He froze at the touch for a moment. Determined, you continued to comfort him. He seemed to melt into your hand as you raked your fingertips through his red strands.

He sank lower and rested his head on your knees, fully supporting himself on your lap. When was the last time he was touched by kindness? When was the last time someone put this much faith in him? Hell, when was the last time he was ever touched at all?

He begins to cry, silent, heaving shoulders. Your heart aches. How does he know how to cry without making a sound? What was his past? His every action and word pushed everyone away, only letting them see what he wanted them to see. But his soul screamed out, “look at me! Please! I’m hurt! I’m so alone!”

You held him, arms circling around his head and dropped shoulders. You rubbed his back with your injured hand, fingers trailing across his spine and shoulder blades.

After a while, he ceases crying. He stays there, not wanting to make a move lest you stop stroking him. It was you who broke the silence.

“Seven, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

He mumbles into your lap, “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ll get back to work.”

Your fingers stopped.

“W-wait. In a second. Can we stay like this? For another minute?” Even though his face was hidden, you could feel the cautious hope and desperation in his voice. You resumed your caresses. He looked visibly less stressed. His back didn’t seem to hold that same intense tension, and his breathing was deeper. He wrapped his arms around your midsection.

After a few more minutes, he looked up at you. His eyes were tinged red.

“You’re okay, right? I just, I can’t let you near me. But I hate seeing you be hurt. It’s killing me. Everything I want always feels like it’s just out of reach. But…” he trails off. “It’s better that way. I’m sorry for this,” he adds, sure of his decision. “It won’t happen again.”

He stands and makes his way to his corner. After putting on his headphones, he types furiously, as if erasing the moment you had.

You’re left wondering if you’ll ever break through his defenses, or if you’ll always be stuck at arm’s length. After the moment you’ve had, you begin to feel hopeful.

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