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lovebugism · 3 months

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❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly.

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do.

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?” Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint.

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do.

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose.

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more.

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti

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spnexploration · 4 months

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Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.

This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.

Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”

The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.

Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.

I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.

---

📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house

A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.

📱 You ok?

I sighed. Finally, he asks.

📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later

I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.

I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.

I walked.

---

I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.

And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.

Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.

Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.

Fuck them.

---

“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.

“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.

“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.

“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”

“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.

“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.

“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”

He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.

I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.

“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”

“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”

“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”

“Didn’t you hear Dean?”

“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”

“No, he laid right into the guy.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”

“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”

I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.

Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.

“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”

“I don’t remember electing you.”

“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”

I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.

The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.

---

Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”

“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”

I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.

“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”

---

Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”

I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.

“What time is it?”

“Time to work the case.”

I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”

“No, come on, back on the horse.”

“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”

“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.

“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.

I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.

Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.

“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”

“Thanks.”

“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.

“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”

“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.

He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”

“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.

“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”

I laughed mirthlessly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”

“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well, they’re all thin at least.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”

“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.

“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”

“Let me guess, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.”

“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.

“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”

His face came even closer, watching my reactions.

“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”

He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”

My hands slackened.

He edged a tiny bit forward.

His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

Was this even real?

How was this happening?

His hand came up to cup my cheek.

I leant forward.

The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the exploration of his tongue and mine.

A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.

“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”

Dean Winchester taglist

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@deans-spinster-witch

@zepskies

Everything Supernatural taglist

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@123passwort

@kazsrm67

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

@magssteenkamp

#my writing #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester birthday #happy birthday dean #deansbirthdaybash #plus size reader #chubby reader #dean winchester x chubby reader #dean x reader #dean x plus size reader #spnaubingo #drunk character #mistaken for pregnant #i write terrible synopses #but it's better than it sounds

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rodolfoparras · 5 months

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Grabs you. I have a thought I’d like to share…

Reader being Price’s little guard dog.,, yk he’s always around, looking after him, almost growling at people if they get too close to him or say something he considers rude. Price just calling him his mutt ,and he knows reader will do whatever for him so he just drags him around and will use reader whenever he wants. Reader will absolutely demolish him if needed, desperate like a dog to have Price under him 🫡 I needed to let this out

Thinking about being Price’s guard dog and accidentally hurting him during a mission. Again, wasn’t on purpose. He had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, with your claws accidentally grazing his sides that had left him out of commission for a while.

Price forgave you as soon as it had happened. He knew that having a guard dog by his side came with consequences but you couldn’t forgive yourself, had silently promised yourself to stay away from the older man (at least til his injuries healed or til the guilt stopped eating away at you. )

Price hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with recovering from his injuries. But once he had fully healed up, he noticed you being distant especially when he tried to initiate something.

You’d usually make up some excuse or even pretend to fall asleep.

Price hadn’t thought much about it. It’s not like you were in a relationship with him anyway. If you didn’t want to sleep with him then that’s okay.He’ll just wait for you to be the one to approach him first.

But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and Price had started to wonder if you even had a deal at all.

If you wanted out of this , he rather you tell him than leave him hanging like this.

So Price stalked you to your room, cornered you up against the wall and confronted you about the issue.

You had played dumb with him, pretended not to know what he was talking about but Price knows you like the back of his hand, knows that something is nagging at you. What kind of owner would he be if he didn’t know when his pet was struggling with something?

So instead of making you use your words, he had your actions speak for you, tentatively locking his his lips with yours before stripping the clothes off of you.

You followed his lead without complaints, slowly but surely tumbling into the sheets with him and for a split second Price thinks that this issue must’ve been all in his head.

All friends with benefits sure must have their periods of time where they don’t do anything?

It wasn’t until you were a couple of rounds in when Price had noticed something.

You’d been taking him apart with your fingers and mouth, fucking him into the mattress til his mind went numb and his body felt overly sensitive to your touch.

But you didn’t come once, matter of fact you hadn’t begged and pleaded like you usually do. Price had founded it a bit strange but you must’ve been too engrossed with his pleasure to think about yourself.

But that won’t do.

Good behavior like this deserves a treat so with the last bit of strength in his body he straddles your waist, pushes your cockhead past his puckered rim, and sets a steady pace with his hips.

It doesn’t take much before he notices you inching closer to your release and Price feels a sense of pride bubbling in the pit of his stomach as three words slips past his lips.

“Cum- ah cum for me” Price says between labored breathes while practically bouncing on your lenght.

“Cant- I cant sir” you slur out head shaking side to side.”please - please no” you continue to speak , mind delirious as ever but desperately trying your hardest to hold off from cumming”don’t don’t - deserve it,”

And in that moment a light bubble goes off in his head…the reason as to why you’ve been distant, …the way you’ve been acting ever since his injury,…

You were punishing yourself and trying to make up for hurting him.

“Bloody hell… “ Price squeaks out “Do you ah- do you think I care about that boy? I don’t give a damn just cum for me” he croaks out, now desperately holding off on his own orgasm.

“I cant - “

“You ah-you can and you will”

#alec answers #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #sub male reader #dom male character #bottom male character #fun fact I have shit tons of guard dog requests 😭

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withleeknow · 4 days

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minho and https://open.spotify.com/track/4gAIUEY7VkeiKQOPwIYaYb?si=oZNdDS-aTUm9V7bEycscDQ 🩷🩷

flower.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a teeny bit angsty?; minho's pov word count: 0.7k note: i am very sorry if this is bad i wrote most of this while half asleep so please forgive me kshdkfhsk

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

one day if a flower blooms in your heart would you be able to understand me?

Flower - DANIEL

minho has been up for a while now, just lying here with you as you snuggle close to him like you can't help but gravitate toward him even in your sleep. one of his hands slips under your shirt where he gently traces the smooth skin of your waist, careful not to rouse you from slumber.

he fails though. maybe a particular swipe of thumb over your body was too ticklish.

"you're so warm."

the words come out a little slurred, a little muffled from where your face is tucked into the crook of his neck, safe and sound on this chilly saturday morning. you stir awake for long enough just to say that, and before he knows it, you're off to dreamland once more, from where you probably won't return for at least another hour or so.

minho halts instantly. you're none the wiser, still sleeping peacefully with your soft breaths fanning his collarbones.

cold, mean, unwelcoming, standoffish, callous. you could name any synonym of these words and he's probably been called that before, by friends and by strangers alike. some of them didn't utter it with malicious intent, but rather it was only a passing comment said in a teasing manner, with a lightheartedness that they didn't think he would mind because, well, apparently he just didn't have enough heart to take it as anything other than a joke.

he's used to it, he's gotten numb to it. somewhere along the way, minho accepted that maybe his name is merely one of those synonyms. it's fine, it doesn't matter. he doesn't really mind it because at the end of the day, none of these people could ever be you.

you're the only person whose opinion he cares about. when all is said and done, he doesn't care if the rest of the world thinks cold and heartless, as long as you know who he is. you're the only thing that matters; everything else just simply... falls away.

he's always struggled with opening up, even if the person on the receiving end is you. it doesn't come naturally to him at all. minho was never raised to be openly affectionate, and it just isn't an inherent trait that he possesses. he's not the kind of guy that tells you he loves you every hour of every day, nor is he the type to smother you with gifts and kisses and grand gestures on a daily basis.

no, minho's love comes quietly, rooted in almost every mundane aspect of life that it's often easy to miss if you don't know where to look. his love comes in the form of packed lunches and home-cooked dinners, of a blanket draped over your form after you've fallen asleep at your desk while working on a project for work. of his hand holding tightly onto yours when you get overwhelmed in crowded places. of his eyes always looking at you as though you're the eighth wonder of the world and he'll never get tired of being mesmerized by you. of texts asking if you've eaten. of sporadic videos of soondoongdori simply sleeping or munching on treats, accompanied by no other message or explanation.

there's a million ways that minho cares for you; he doesn't have to shout it from the rooftops for you to know. you do know, and that's enough for the both of you.

but it's not until you uttered those simple words just now that minho realizes how much he needed to hear them out loud. he's well aware that you didn't mean it like that. you meant it quite literally, because sometimes he does run hot and you've always loved that. your personal human furnace to keep you nice and toasty whenever you wanted. he knows it and yet, he still lets the words wiggle their way inside his ribcage and make a home there. they settle somewhere beside his heart and mend something in him that he didn't notice was cracked and chipped, worn away after years and years of people telling him he was callous.

minho isn't sure how long he's been holding his breath, but the very second he inhales again, everything feels lighter, like he's finally leaving behind some of the weight that he's been carrying with him his whole life.

his fingers resume their ministrations on your soft skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he holds you a little tighter, and everything feels like it's going to be okay.

even in your half-asleep state with your mind completely elsewhere, you still manage to take his breath away. maybe you really are the eighth wonder of the world after all.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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therealcocoshady · 9 days

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Sober Marshall x Drunk Girlfriend HC

Author’s note : wrote this little blurb while I was hungover today. Needed some fluff 🥰. Hope you enjoy it ☀️.

* Though he has been sober for more than fifteen years, he doesn’t mind if people drink when he is around. He literally doesn’t care if he is at dinner and everyone else is drinking wine while he has water or soda.

* Same goes for you, his significant other. He doesn’t mind if you drink a little. If you were a raging alcoholic, it’d be different, but seeing as you only drink on occasion, he doesn’t mind.

* He knows your drink of choice and orders it for you the you’re on a date.

* He thinks you’re adorable when you’re tipsy. He likes that a little happy juice gives you the confidence that you sometimes lack.

* You also get more vocal about how sexy you think he is and he enjoys it way too much.

* He absolutely likes to make fun of you if drinking makes you dizzy or if you start slurring your words.

* He doesn’t particularly enjoy the thought of you being out drinking, but he is happy to be the one you call after a night out.

* If you guys don’t live together, he will offer to come and pick you up (at least, when you’re with him, he knows you’re safe and not all drunk and vulnerable after a night out)

* If you live together, he likes when you come home. He will never admit to it but he has trouble sleeping when he knows you’re out drinking because he knows how men can be with drunk girls. He usually waits until you get home to fall asleep.

* If you get easily horny when you’re drinking, he doesn’t necessarily oblige, though, depending on your drunkenness. A little tipsy is ok but he will not touch you if you’re drunk. He likes his woman fully present and consenting.

* Even if you give your explicit consent, if he thinks you’re too drunk, he pushes you away.

* « You’re too drunk, babygirl. Let’s just cuddle, ok ? »

* « You’ll have me when you’re sober, don’t worry » 😉

* Plus, being sober, he doesn’t necessarily enjoy the smell of alcohol. Drunk breath is almost a turn off.

* On the rare occasion that you are really drunk, he takes care of you.

* He will be the one holding your hair and sympathetically rubbing your back while you puke, telling you that it’s ok when you apologize for the hundredth time.

* That being said, he can and will probably be grumpy about it. You won’t see it because you’re bent over the toilet, but he is absolutely rolling his eyes.

* That being said, he’d rather be the one taking care of you while you’re drunk than having someone else do it. At least, he knows you got home safely.

* He puts you to bed and tucks you in, making sure you’re comfortable.

* When you wake up hungover, he has already put a glass of water and aspirin on your nightstand.

* He is absolutely the type to grin at you and remind you of all the silly stuff you’ve said and done while drunk. You’re mortified but he just laughs it off.

* He doesn’t judge you too much : he’s been there, done that, and he was way worse.

* There is one thing he does love about you when you’re drunk : you get all candid about your feelings and make the cutest drunk confessions.

* « I want to grow old with you and have your babies and stuff », you said with a drunken laugh. « Oh yeah ? » he asked with a grin as he tucked you in his bed. « Yep », you replied as you popped the P. « What else ? » He asked. « We could get married, too ! », you added as you closed your eyes. « Married, huh ? » he chuckled. « You’d be a great husband, you know ? And I’d be the best wife. We could drive to the city hall right now and get married ! » you said blurringly. Marshall let out a laugh and laid next to you in bed, getting under the covers. « It’s 3AM, babygirl… The city hall is closed. It’s Michigan, not Vegas, you can’t get married in the middle of the night. ». You let out a small yawn and pouted « That’s too bad. Another time, then, yeah ? ». Your boyfriend chortled and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. He knew full well you wouldn’t be so vocal about marriage and having his babies if you weren’t drunk. But you were and it was kind of adorable. He secretly loved the idea that you saw a future with him, even though it was probably a bit too early to start thinking about all these things. « Another time », he agreed with a smile. He knew you’d be embarrassed the next morning when he would mention this conversation. Which he totally would. He was not the type to miss an opportunity to see your face flushed with embarrassment. It was way too funny and he couldn’t help it. « Good night… Wifey. », he added with a shit-eating grin on his face. He wouldn’t admit it, not to you, nor anyone else for that matter, but he did like the sound of that. What he liked even more was the smile the nickname put on your drunken face, eyes closed and giggling like a schoolgirl, as well as the words that followed. « Love you… Hubby. ». Now, he hadn’t had so much as a glass of wine in more than fifteen years, but he could swear he was starting to feel a little intoxicated himself. Absolutely drunk in love with you.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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mykoreanlove · 4 months

Text

sexy brain wasn’t having it

3.25 am.

Once again Namjoon lay awake at night, anticipating the next disaster. His thoughts were racing, fueling the anxiety that was rooted deep in his heart.

„Joon“, you mumbled sleepily as you twisted in his arms.

You calling him caught him by surprise, a welcomed yet unnecessary surprise.

„Why are you awake, love?“, he whispered in his deep raspy voice.

You chuckled as you patted his buff chest. „Well Sherlock, my precious darling is awake so I can’t sleep either.“

Namjoon smiled widely as he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

„Sorry.“

„Is something on your mind?“

He sighed, not really knowing how to articulate his thoughts.

„Do you remember when I told you about my ex? The one that cheated on me?“

You nodded silently.

„Do you also remember the girl that shot daggers at you when I took you out to dinner two days ago?“

„The one with the crazy eyes?“

A sad laugh escaped his lips. „Yeah. Actually, same person.“

„No way“, you gasped, suddenly fully awake. „Why didn’t you tell me?“

„Honestly? She did some crazy things back then so I just wanted to forget her. I don’t want you to be near her. Ever.“

You tightened your grip around your boyfriend, deeply touched by his concern for you.

„You really care about me, huh?“

„Slightly“, he bickered back, making the both of you laugh.

„Are you afraid that she’s gonna do something to us?“

Namjoon closed his eyes and sighed deeply. „I expect her to.“

You drew circles on his chest, hoping this would make him calm down and drift off to sleep. It seemed like it worked, until it didn’t.

Frantic sounds alerted you both, someone was ringing the bell like crazy.

„Namjoon. Namjoon!! Open up, please.“

Her whines were slurred and chaotic. You felt him tense under your touch, unsure what to do.

„Just ignore her, Joonie. I’m sure she’s gonna leave in a minute.“

„Joon!! God damn it, Joon!!! Open the fucking door!“

Namjoon debated if he should get up, but he also feared hurting you. Suddenly, the door flung open revealing a very bad tempered Jungkook.

„Hyung, please. Go talk to her. I can’t sleep and I can’t keep listening to her begging for you. I beg you talk to that lunatic.“

You squeezed Namjoon‘s hand, encouraging him to go.

„I love you��, he whispered in your ear.

„I know“, you stuck out your tongue.

„Namjoon, fucking rap monster open this door no-„

Namjoon‘s ex swallowed her tongue as she actually succeeded with her plan - her ex was standing before her, ready to listen to her tantrum.

„Joon“, she tried hugging him but he pushed her away.

„You know what time it is?“

She nodded her head, slightly ashamed. „Joon, I am sorry but I need to talk to you. Breaking up was the worst idea we ever had.“

He rolled his eyes at her, trying to stay calm.

„Cheating on me was even dumber if you ask me.“

„I never“, she tried to defend herself but bit her tongue as she saw the hurt in his eyes.

„I’m sorry. What I did was wrong. It’s just, I couldn’t handle our love back then. You’re such a grown up and I.. I am a mess.“

Flashbacks of all the tantrums she created flashed his mind. She always argued with him, accusing him of the most disrespectful shit. Looking back he could simply laugh about this, wondering how the hell he kept up with her frantics for so long. He didn’t care about the past, nor her anymore. He only cared about you.

„I call you a cab“, he stated sternly.

„NO!“

Namjoon sighed in annoyance.

„What do you want from me? Why are you here? Do you honestly think I’d take you back? After all you put me through?“

„Why not? Because of that bitch?“, she spat out.

His nostrils flared up instantly. Namjoon would never resolve a conflict with violence, especially not with a female. He’d rather contort to hurting one emotionally.

„I don’t want you to talk about my girlfriend like that. Ever again. Understood?“

„That should be me! I’m supposed to be your girl, Joon. Don’t you remember how great we were?“

„Nah“, he replied dryly.

His ex scoffed, too many blows to her ego. „Oh please, I’ve seen her. Since when do you date someone so basic? She’s half of me anyways.“

Namjoon took out his phone and ordered a cab, making an end to this nonsense.

„What are you doing? Joon, listen to me! She’s not the one for you, can’t you see?“

He raised his left brow, holding back what he truly felt.

„She’s average. Basic. Boring. I think you should dump her. I think you should get back together with me. I think you and I should become Korea‘s hottest couple and live a beautiful life together. I think I am the love of your life!“

A real, heartfelt laugh left his lips. His ex‘ eyes widened in expectation, anticipating her victory over you.

Namjoon however disagreed.

„Thank you for telling me what you think. I however, don’t think about you. At all.“

He turned around and went inside, hoping to never end up in a situation like that ever again.

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syllvane · 1 year

Text

a dwindling, mercurial high- nikolai lantsov x reader

“You could’ve left, with Tolya and Tamar, y’know.” Nikolai said, his words slurring ever so slightly and you looked at him amused.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you had been sober enough to remember him getting plastered.

“I know I could have, silly.”

He smiled at you and you forced yourself to look away from him, looking for anything or anyone out of place.

“Then why did you stay?”

“Someone has to keep you from getting killed.” You said, only half-joking.

It wasn’t a large celebration, only close friends and family of the soon to be monarchs invited to gathering.

Alina was on the other side of the room, nursing a glass of kvas and talking with Zoya and Genya.

Tolya and Tamar had told Nikolai that they wouldn’t be able to attend, some business with stopping slaver ship. Mal had given no word to Alina.

Hence, the kvas.

“You have so much confidence in me.”

“More confidence than I have in most people.” You replied quickly, taking an opportunity to look at him.

His golden cheeks were flushed red with alcohol and his eyes were focused on you, looking at you like he should’ve been looking at his fiancée.

“You should go socialize with Alina and the others. People might get the wrong impression if you’re talking to the Captain of your guard all night.”

“And what impression would that be?”

That you love me. That I love you. That the most selfish parts of me want you to pick me over the entirety of Ravka.

“I don’t know, that there might be an emergency or something- Nikolai.”

He stood up and cleared his throat loudly, commanding all of the attention in the room.

“My fellow countrymen, I just want all of you to rest assured that there is no emergency going on. My good friend and head of guard thought that us having a conversation might give that impression, so calm your nerves and enjoy the drinks.”

Several chuckles went around the room and conversations slowly resumed as he sat back down, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Are you happy now?” You asked and he looked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Very. Are you done trying to convince me to talk to other people?”

“Odd way to describe your fiancée, ‘other people’.” You retorted.

“You could just call her Alina.”

“Or moya tsaritsa.”

He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head.

“I don’t get it, you liked Alina when you first met her, on the Volkvolny.”

You wished more than anything that Tolya and Tamar were here, or that you could at least drink.

“I do like her. You're the one who hasn’t spoken to her all night.”

“And would you rather that I go over to her and play the part of the adoring husband? That I hold her closely and whisper in her ear?” He taunted and you scoffed, looking anywhere but him. He grabbed your hand. “I’d rather be here as well.”

You looked at your intertwined hands, unable to focus on much beyond how his skin felt on yours, suddenly glad that Tolya and Tamar weren’t here, painfully aware of how fast your heart was beating.

He let go of your hand, standing up again.

“Well, friends, I think I’ve had enough revelry for tonight- please, continue to indulge yourself. As difficult as it might be, the party must go on.” He said, winking at his guests, all of whom smiled at him kindly.

He turned towards the door and started walking.

You signaled the other guards of Nikolai’s to move, glancing over the room once more to see Alina looking at you.

She smiled at you warmly and you did your best to return it, still thinking about how his skin felt on yours.

You turned around, following Nikolai out and when you and the other guards on duty arrived to his chambers, Nikolai motioned for you to follow him inside.

The doors closed.

“You’re the one that I love, you know.” He said, pouring himself another drink. You watched the liquid slosh into the glass cup, watched as he took a sip. “If that’s what marriage was about, it would be you I would marry.”

You stayed completely still.

“Nik-”

“I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that it took so long for me to say it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked miserably, and he looked at you, taking a step closer.

“Why did you stay?” He asked softly and you shook your head. “Please. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.”

You closed your eyes- you didn’t know when tears started streaming down your face.

“Because I love you.” You said as if it was the worst thing in the entire world. “I love you and as much as I hate everything about this, you’re still in my life. And I will take whatever life I can get with you.”

You opened your eyes and he looked at you sorrowfully, his hand hovering over your cheek as if to caress it, to wipe the tears away, before it dropped back to his side.

He closed his eyes and took a step away from you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice barely a whisper. “I should get to sleep.”

You nodded professionally, as if tears weren’t actively streaming down your face, taking a step away from him and turning.

“Right, moy tsar. You have a big day coming up, you need all the rest you can get.” He flinched at the title- not that you noticed, facing away from him. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” He said hoarsely.

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone

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theferrarieffect · 2 months

Text

in the practice room

masterlist

Charles x reader (4.8k words)

summary: charles is a man that contains multitudes. you help him see that through the music.

warnings: mention of deaths of parents, slight music lingo (not necessary to the plot), fluff

in the practice room

In a bustling but quiet coffee shop, you bend over a pile of papers filled with messy notes, rests, and slurs. On the B section of the piece, you scratch out a run of eighth notes you had just penciled in, frowning slightly at the score. Something’s just not right.

You decide this calls for some noodling around on the piano to figure it out, so you tuck your sheets safely into a manila folder and the folder into your canvas tote, sling the bag over your shoulder, and scoop up your iced americano with one hand while fumbling for your wallet containing your bus card in your pocket with the other. You turn around and—

Disaster. As your hand makes contact with the stranger who seemingly came out of nowhere, your cup goes flying out of your hand, coffee soaking your pants, your socks, your shoes. You yelp as you feel cold liquid on your ankles—thank god you went with iced today instead of a latte. The straps of your heavy tote slide down your shoulder, catching painfully in the crook of your elbow, bumping indignantly into the perpetrator as it swings. His mouth is shaped in a tiny, surprised O. You’re fairly sure yours is, too. Students glance up from their laptops; a group of older women pause their conversation, peering curiously at the two of you.

“Oh, my god,” the stranger says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter automatically, crouching to pick up the sad remnants of your americano. As you rise, you notice that the coffee has stained his perfectly white pants. You gasp. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” he asks, then follows your gaze down. “Oh.”

“Shit. Your pants are ruined.” You crane your neck, searching desperately for a potential source of napkins.

“So are yours,” he points out rather unhelpfully.

Magically, a barista hurries over right then with a stack of paper towels. “Thank you so much,” you tell him hastily as you hand one to the stranger and start dabbing at your own clothes, dragging some of them around the floor with a shoe. Your tote—along with its precious cargo of textbooks and your score—seems thankfully unharmed, and you set it gingerly down in a chair while you clean.

The stranger bends down and starts helping you mop up the rest of the floor. You see a pair of aviators nestled in his brown curls. And as the initial shock of the collision subsides, you take in the thick eyelashes, a perfectly sloped nose, a Cupid’s bow that looked like a little upside-down W. You wonder if he has a girlfriend, and think to yourself that if you guys weren’t drenched in coffee, you might even have dared to ask.

He finishes wiping away the puddle, and stands up, finally meeting your eyes for the first time. He has the kind of eyes that are every color under the sun; a ring of blue fading into green, a sunburst of brown around his pupils. “I am so stupid,” he says in heavily accented English. “Your clothes are ruined—let me replace them.”

Replace them? You blush at the thought of him replacing your clothes. Then you blush harder when you realize he doesn’t mean it like that at all.

“No, no,” you wave the offer away. “It’s coffee, I can try it in the wash.” Although in your experience, light wash jeans and a cream hoodie usually did not play well with bean juice. And of course it had soaked the seam between your legs, making for a maximally embarrassing look. “And your pants are ruined too…”

The cute stranger sighs. “Guess so. And I’d just gotten here. I hope you weren’t on your way to somewhere important.”

You shake your head. “I was just headed to the uni’s music rooms. A friend dropped me off here but I can take the bus to the school.”

He raises an eyebrow at music rooms. “You’re still going?”

“I mean, I should probably try to get home first,” you say, realizing that you’re a little out of options.

“I drove here,” the stranger informs you. He pauses. “Let me take you to your apartment, or least get you somewhat close. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

You consider this. You give him a once-over; his arms are crossed, and he looks a little nervous, tapping a white sneaker on the ground. You figure he’s probably not the first serial killer of Monaco you’ve ever heard of. “Okay,” you shrug. “I appreciate it.”

He smiles, his playful lips curling up at the corners. “Not a problem. My car’s out in front.”

He opens the door for you on your way out of the coffee shop. You hear whispers from several tables as you pass by.

A lot houses rows of parked cars on the side of the plaza. On the far edge is one of those extremely fancy sports cars, most of which you know nothing about. Even in Monaco, a place with no shortage of nice cars, it stands out—and not just because whoever parked it did a truly horrendous job of it.

The stranger strides down the lot, and you point out the fancy car. “Whoa. Look at that.”

“Cool car,” he says casually. He stops at the far side of the lot.

You chuckle. “I hope you parked before this guy came in.” You grab the passenger side handle of the white sedan next to it—

“Wait!” the stranger cries. Alarmed, you release the door. He reaches into his pocket, produces a keychain with an electronic fob and a little horse dangling from it. And the ridiculous sports car next to it chirps awake.

“Oh my god.”

He looks sheepish. “Sorry, I’m kind of a terrible parker.”

Your cheeks are on fire. “I didn’t mean to roast you,” you mutter.

But he smiles and opens the door for you. You climb in, afraid to touch anything. Or breathe, for that matter.

He joins you in the car. “I should tell you my name,” he says. Extends a hand. “Charles.”

You accept the handshake, feeling a tiny frission of something bloom in your chest, and tell him your name too.

“Well,” Charles says. “To where do I have the pleasure of driving you this morning?”

You laugh. Charles is so cheesy. And very, very cute. “My apartment is…” you finish with the address.

He punches it into the GPS and starts up the car. Classical music begins playing.

“Grieg,” you muse as the strains of his piano concerto float through the speakers. “Good taste.”

Charles gives you a sidelong glance. “You play piano?”

“Just a little,” you admit. “I’m not any good, but we have to know some basics for music composition.”

“So you’re a student?”

“Grad school. Third year.”

“Wow,” Charles says. “That’s pretty impressive.”

You chuckle then, because to you it’s definitely not. “Well? What do you do?”

It’s telling of how intently you’ve been staring at him that you notice a tiny muscle in his neck tense at your question.

“Hmm, well. I also play, although I’m no good, mostly trying to learn. But if you’re asking about my job, I work…for a car company.”

Ah. That explains a lot. “Just a guess…” you say in a bit of a teasing tone, looking at the little black horse on the wheel. “Ferrari?”

“Bingo,” Charles says.

“What do you do for them?”

“I, uh…” he looks uncomfortable now. “I drive for some of their specialized lines, I guess.”

“So you’re a test driver!” You didn’t even know that was a full-time job. It’s pretty sick.

Charles chuckles. “I guess, of a sort.”

“And you say grad school is cool,” you snort as he pulls up in front of your apartment. Rubenstein is just starting the cadenza of the first movement.

“It is,” Charles says, his insistent tone catching you by surprise. “Being able to just learn, immerse yourself in something that deeply…I’m pretty jealous, if I’m being honest.”

You look at him questioningly.

“Ferrari has me traveling quite a bit,” he clarifies. “Not exactly the most conducive life to go back to school. And I love playing piano, but I can only really do it back home.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little bad for Charles.

He shrugs. “Are you still going to the practice rooms? Because I am totally happy to wait for you to change and then drive you there.”

“I can’t have you be my taxi,” you laugh. “Seriously, thank you for bringing me home. You really saved me from a small dilemma.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You feel slightly deflated at the thought of never seeing Charles again. Monaco was small, right? Maybe you’d run into him…someday. Maybe.

“Alright then,” he agrees. He gives you a long look, as if he’s taking you in. “I’m sorry again for the coffee. I’ll…see you around.”

“Goodbye, Charles.” You shut the door of his gorgeous Ferrari and walk up the stairs of your apartment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watch him drive away as you open the front door.

A week later, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something, anything to see her again. He kicked himself for not asking her if she wanted to hang out again, not even for her number. He supposed he knew where she lived now, but that was somehow more unhelpful than knowing nothing at all. Charles felt a void open inside his chest, and unable to stand that nagging feeling for another second, grabbed his car keys and a book and and drove to the coffee shop. He didn’t dare let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d be there.

After surreptitiously glancing around to make sure no fans would notice him instantly, Charles pushed his sunglasses onto his head. He surveyed the tables more closely, and then his eyes landed on a sight that filled his head with what felt like helium.

She was sitting in a corner, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, tucking her hair behind her ear as she scribbled busily on a sheet of lined paper. A half-eaten scone sat on a little dish. No sign of a coffee.

“Sorry,” he said to the barista, whom he’d just asked for a latte. “I’ll add one iced americano to my order.”

You’re deep in concentration when a looming presence takes over your periphery, and you jump in your seat. It’s Charles. Wearing a disarming smile, a red sweater, and extending a hand holding an iced americano.

Okay, so maybe you picked this coffee shop to work at on purpose. Nobody needed to know that you never worked at the same coffee shop twice in a row, that you were so prone to distraction that you constantly tried to switch up the scenery.

I guess it paid off.

“Charles,” you say, fighting to keep a smile off your face.

“Hi.” He looks shy. “Don’t want to bother you but thought I’d say hi.”

“No, not at all,” you say quickly. Even if Charles sat clear across the shop from you, all hope of concentration was gone. “Want to sit down?”

He accepts your invitation, carefully sliding down the bench across from you. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, and you take a greedy sip of the coffee Charles mercifully brought you.

“I brought a book,” he says proudly, holding up a well-loved copy of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. He looks a little bit like a child displaying his beloved finger-painting project, and you resist the urge to ruffle his hair. “So I don’t distract you.”

Oh, Charles. If only he knew.

“Too late,” you let yourself say with a small smile. You cannot make eye contact with him right now. “But as luck would have it, I’m finishing up.”

Charles leans over, peering at the rows of staffs penciled in with rolling arpeggios, thick chords in the bass, repeatedly written and re-written tempo changes. “That,” he breathes, “is so cool. Literally mind-blowing.”

You blush furiously. “At least it looks that way. I’m pretty much wrapping up. Need to try a few things on the keyboard.”

“You’re going to the practice room again?” Charles asks.

“Yeah,” you respond. Then you remember something. “Actually, if you want to come—of course you don’t have to—but if you wanted to play piano there are plenty of them there.”

Stupid. Judging by his Ferrari, he probably has a much nicer piano at home. Some of those baby grands at the uni were real crusty…

But his eyes are bright, and he eagerly nods. “Really? Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

Charles beams. “I can drive us there.”

The subsequent ride to the music building is scored by Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2, along with Charles’ laughter.

Charles followed her down the silent hall, lined by soundproof rooms each housing a piano in various states of decay. She stopped in front of a room with a shiny black baby grand. “Here,” she whispered. “This is one of the better ones.” She took a tiny key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

He found it rather distracting that they were in a small, enclosed, soundproof room together. Alone. He forced himself to send his imagination into oblivion.

“I’m going to figure out this section of my piece,” she told him. “But I kind of want to hear you play, not gonna lie…” She had a teasing smile on her face.

Charles swallowed. “I told you, I’m terrible.”

“I won’t push you,” she said, more gently this time. “But I do mean it when I say I want to hear you play.”

“Wait,” he said bravely. “I am working on something. Just promise me to be nice.”

She held up a pinky. “Promise.”

Charles took a deep breath. This might have been the first time he’d ever actually played for anyone. Hands shaking, he muddled his way through a simple Chopin waltz he’d been working on. When he finished, he looked up to see her grinning ear to ear.

“See,” he muttered. “Told you I’m bad.”

She answered by sweeping him into a hug. She smelled like the orange blossoms that lined the streets in Monaco.

“Promise me,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by Charles’ shoulder. “Promise me you’ll never say that again.”

You can hardly believe it, but that was only the first time you and Charles went to the practice rooms together. Your friend has stopped giving you rides, because every Monday, Charles’ Ferrari waits patiently at your apartment, and you chatter all the way to a coffee shop of the week. Charles reads a book as you work on your manuscripts, study for your written exams, and when you’ve both had enough, you drive to the practice rooms. In the car, he plays a different classical work every time. It’s usually piano, but not always.

Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1. He tells you the song reminds him of the way his stomach flutters before the lights go out at the start of the race, the thrill of rounding a sharp turn. It’s how you find out his real job at Ferrari is being a driver for Formula One.

Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor. You gush over the lush, grandiose chords, describing how you never liked the song much until you heard Yuja Wang tear it to shreds. You confess that it’s so intense, so majestic, that you’ll blast it through your headphones at the gym of all places.

Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3. He asks you if you’ve seen that sci-fi movie, Gattcca. It sounds vaguely familiar. He launches into a description of Uma Thurman telling Ethan Hawke, “that piece can only be played with twelve fingers.” You laugh and tell him the song takes place almost entirely on the black keys, so Uma’s character must not be totally wrong. He says you two need to watch the movie together sometime. Your stomach flutters at the thought of a movie night with Charles.

Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Pas de deux. You tell him that you danced ballet for almost ten years as a child, but you could never take your eyes off the piano in the corner of the studio. Your last dance ever was as the Sugar Plum Fairy, and as soon as you took your bow, you rushed over to peer into the pit orchestra. Charles catches you by surprise, tells you that while his dad was still alive, he used to drag his entire family to see the ballet every Christmas. You feel a pang in your chest, place your hand over his.

He’s always shocked when you identify the song, most of them within a few notes. You laugh, tease him that he plays cliché music. You don’t tell him that you let yourself imagine each song is like a flower that he brings to your doorstep, even though neither of you have said anything about what you are, what these weekly excursions to the practice rooms mean.

Barber’s Adagio for Strings. You complain that Charles is being a total downer, then promptly confess that this is the only thing you want played at your funeral. Charles teases you for already having the soundtrack to your funeral in mind…and asks if the same is true for your wedding. You roll your eyes, blushing, smack his arm playfully…and tell him it’s the 18th variation of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Fireworks, you say. This song makes me see fireworks. It’s, like, the epitome of love.

The next day, a small bouquet of lilies on top of an aging manila folder is waiting at your door. You open the folder gingerly and gasp. Penned on the top of the vintage score in Russian, in what may well be Rachmaninoff’s own hand, is Rapsodiya na temu Paganini. A small cream card falls out, emblazoned with a now-familiar black horse.

Thanks for showing me the fireworks, too, it says.

“Wait,” Charles said one day, interrupting the plaintive strains of the Adagio of the Spartacus Suite. “Let me queue up a different song.”

He tapped around until he found the playlist he wanted. From the very first note, her face flashed with recognition.

“Liebestraum,” she said. “And by the sounds of it, Arthur Rubenstein.”

Charles never ceased to be amazed by her ears. It was borderline freakish.

“This came up once, totally randomly, while I was on a drive,” he told her. “I feel like there are so many songs in classical music that are…so emotional. Majestic. But most of the time, it’s me that’s doing the feeling. This song…I can almost feel how the composer—and the player—must have felt bringing it into existence.”

She looked deep in thought. Only noticing Charles’ eyes on her seemed to break her reverie. “It’s a good song,” she replied evenly.

Charles felt slightly crestfallen. It wasn’t like her to not provide a whole commentary on a classical piece. He’d expected her to wax poetic about the dynamic contrast, the pacing, the dissonant cadenza.

“Definitely.” He tried to hide his disappointment.

It was a bad day for Charles’ fingers, as he liked to say. Frustrated, he decided to take a walk around the studio as a refresher. He wondered if she was working on her score. Then he realized that he’d never actually heard her play before. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, he crept as silently as he could down the hall until he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

She was sitting in front of a piano, but there were no stacks of messy papers on the bench or the stand, no pencil tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were closed; she looked utterly peaceful, belying the sounds of the flying arpeggios, the chords crashing like waves on the Monégasque beach, that she coaxed effortlessly out of the old instrument.

Charles felt a choking sensation grow in his chest, his throat, as the Liebestraum modulated from its playful B major, then C, E, and finally the soaring climax of its home key. She touched the final note, the simplest of simple A flats, letting it linger until the walls of the practice room sucked it away far too soon.

A tear splashed onto one of the keys. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her hoodie. Her face, no longer peaceful, looked haunted. Charles felt like a little piece of his heart had chipped off.

He tried to turn around and sneak back to his room, but she looked up, and they locked eyes. She froze.

Charles tapped softly on the door. She nodded. He opened the door, sat next to her on the piano bench.

“Charles—” she began.

“You’re incredible.” He shook his head, still in disbelief.

She hung her head. Her shoulders drooped. “I’m not.”

“You only ever talk about composition. Why didn’t you ever tell me you perform?”

Her lips flattened into a line. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

He gaped. “Why not?” This girl could put actual professionals to shame.

“It’s a long story.” she said curtly. But Charles saw her eyes fill with tears.

He put an arm around her shoulder, and felt her lean in. “Want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

She swiped across her eyes with her sleeve. “You played that song in the car,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“The truth is that when I started school, I wasn’t just studying composition,” she continued slowly. “I was actually majoring in piano performance.”

“As you should,” Charles blurted impulsively.

She gave him a watery smile. “My mom, she was pretty against the whole music thing. But my dad loved piano. He was really good himself, but I guess my grandparents were like my mom, so he just had a normal job. And most of all…” her voice quivered, “he loved the Liebestraum. So much. I listened to it constantly growing up…hearing my dad play it was probably why I started playing in the first place.”

Charles’ heart gave a painful squeeze. He dreaded where this was going.

She gave a heavy sigh. “My first year, my dad got a heart attack. At Christmas dinner. He was gone…just like that.”

“Oh, no,” Charles whispered.

“I went back to school the next semester, but I couldn’t play anymore the way I used to. So I quit. I switched my concentration to theory and composition. Honestly, I never even practice anymore, even for fun…but then you played that song in the car…”

Charles felt like an asshole. Of course he had no idea what that song meant to her. But how fucked up was it that he’d thought he was bringing her a flower…and what she saw was a knife? “I’m sorry,” he said morosely.

“It’s okay.”

“For what it’s worth,” Charles said softly, “the way you played…if heaven is really a thing…you dad got to hear exactly how much you love him today.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned in, and Charles smelled orange blossoms, felt her lips delicately brush his cheek.

“Thank you, Charles.”

One day, Charles tells you that he won’t be able to see you next weekend—the race weekend is in Singapore, and the drivers are heading there almost a week early for the time change. He looks almost as cut up about it as you feel.

“So I was thinking,” he says hesitantly, “maybe we could hang out more after the practice room. Only if you want.”

“Sure,” you say, trying not to betray your excitement. Or nervousness. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Well,” Charles says, running a hand through his soft, tousled brown hair. “We could get dinner. And then I wanted to show you something out on the water.”

You laugh, because of course Charles owns a boat, and tell him so. His cheeks bloom with two patches of pink, but he looks pleased nonetheless.

Dinner is delicious, not that you could pay any attention to the plates of tortellini smothered in creamy white béchamel, the perfectly crispy, charred pizza with sprigs of arugula and prosciutto, not when Charles peeks adorably at you over the top of his wine glass, lifts his slice of pizza to toast yours, fails to correct the waiter when she calls you a “beautiful couple”. Especially not when his fingers find yours as you walk out of the restaurant, and they intertwine and stay that way as he drives you along the asphalt ribbon of the Monégasque shoreline, to the harbor where his yacht is docked.

The dying sunset stains the sky a brilliant shade of orange, fading into darkness by the time he drives the boat deeper offshore. Stars dot the sky like a smattering of freckles. The coast is brightly lit, and you point out the crowds that seem to be gathering near the harbor.

“As luck would have it,” Charles says, “a couple days in the summer, there’s a festival on the Port.”

“Is that why we’re out at sea instead of, I don’t know, enjoying the actual festival?” you tease, earning yourself a gentle poke in the ribs.

“Just wait.”

You hear the faint sound of music coming from the shore, some upbeat pop thing. Charles is fiddling with some buttons on the dashboard of the yacht. Suddenly, the those familiar inverted chords in D flat major that never fail to make you feel like you’re melting, signaling the beginning of Rhapsody, sound through the speakers on the sides of the boat. Your heart pounds. Charles wraps an arm around your waist, and takes you onto the deck as the music swells, the cellos and basses joining the violins. He points up at the sky.

And the fireworks begin.

Bursts of red, green, purple. Blazing trails of gold, like comets, exploding in a shower of glitter that crackles on the way down. You look at Charles, seeing the dazzling sparkles reflected in his eyes, and they are filled with so much longing that your own heart aches.

“They’re gorgeous,” you tell those eyes, not entirely sure you’re talking about the fireworks anymore.

“Good,” Charles says hoarsely. He tilts your jaw up with two gentle fingers. Hardly an inch away from your own, his lips move as he says in the barest of whispers, “Because now you see what I’ve been seeing…every Monday for a long, long time.”

Your lips quiver, but Charles leans in, and stills them with his own. Even though your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, you see fireworks.

one year later

Applause fills the air as you hit the last thundering chord of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor with a flourish. You stand, the stage lights making you feel giddy—or maybe it’s the exhilaration of finishing your senior concert—and you take your bow. The chiffon hem of your dress skims the ground as you walk off stage and are swarmed with friends and family and proud professors, but your eyes roam the crowd for just one person.

And there he is. An armful of lilies demands one of his arms, so he sweeps you close with the other. He brushes your lips with a kiss.

“Congratulations,” Charles whispers.

“Thanks,” you beam, a little teary-eyed.

“Grieg, huh?” he says. “No wonder you didn’t want to show me the program in advance.”

“It was meant to be poetic,” you laugh, and he kisses you again.

And it was. One day you sat down and counted every song you and Charles had played in his Ferrari on the way to the practice room before the night of the fireworks. Sixteen. Like the number emblazoned on his car, on the hoodies you regularly stole from his closet, on the posters you brought to his race weekends. Sixteen songs, and that concerto just happened to be the one that started it all.

notes: if you couldn’t tell….i played a lot of piano growing up. fic inspired by this post

random easter eggs:

hehe i am so stupid reference

gatacca (highly recommend)

til there is an actual fireworks show in monaco

and of course, charles actually playing the piano :’))))))) he truly contains multitudes i love him so much

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader

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theodorecanaryhood · 4 months

Text

The coffee shop guy and the Red Hood: love and weddings

Arkham verse Jason Todd x Male! Nerd Reader

Part V

(Not Jason and Reader wedding!)

‘Does this tie look ok?’ Jason asked as he walked into the bedroom, holding a tie up for your opinion.

You nodded with a small smile as Jason put the tie around his neck, making you chuckle as he struggled to do it up. To which you stepped in and helped.

‘I love weddings’ was all you said as you finished the knot, pulling the tie up gently.

‘Really?’ Jason asked, a quizzed expression on his face.

You nodded again, pecking Jason on the nose as he pouted a little. Pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

The quiet moments between the two of you always felt perfect, it was comfortable, listening to Jason breathing quietly to himself. Fingers intertwined as you drove to the wedding.

It wasn’t a big deal for you two to attend, though it would be nice for you to show your face. It was your cousin after all.

‘What are you looking forward to most?’ You asked Jason, Jason took his eyes off the road for a second to look at you.

‘The free hotel room, and the free bar’ Jason smiled.

‘Notice how you didn’t say the hot date’ you chuckled.

‘Oh fuck, well I mean I’d rather just give you a blowjob and call it a day’ Jason pulled your hand to his face and kissed it, while still holding it.

The wedding was small and simple, a big venue yet not too big. Jason smiled brightly with you next to him.

After the ceremony and you ran off to go and congratulate your cousin, Jason ordered you both drinks.

You walked over to the seated Jason, who already had two empty glasses next to him.

‘Really Jason? Already?’ You asked, smiling as you chuckled a little.

Jason just nodded as he handed you a glass, the two of you clinked your glasses together.

You took your glasses off to clean them on your shirt, Jason noticed a drunk bridesmaid coming over.

Bridesmaids are always hit and miss, as you get the one bridesmaid that is overly excited about everything and friendly, and the another who is always on a prowl for a man. At least, that’s Jason’s experience with them.

‘Hey boys, anyone need a drink?’ The bridesmaid asked, you both shook your heads.

‘All good honey, thanks’ you smiled, the bridesmaid smiled and rubbed your arm.

‘I’m gonna go bathroom babe, be right back’ Jason announced and leant in and kissed you.

The aftermath of the wedding was great, from what you could remember. You were certain that there would be pictures of you or videos. You know that the groom took a shot of you drinking from the champagne bottle, after you gave up with the glass.

Most of the night was a blur by a certain point, and Jason thought better to stay a little more sober so he could get you both to the hotel room.

‘Come on, let’s get you to bed’ Jason laughed as he flipped you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to the hotel.

Jason got you to the hotel room, laying you on the bed as he took off your shoes.

‘Gonna take off the rest of my clothes?’ You slurred, Jason shook his head.

‘I’m gonna get you in the shower and to bed, you’ve had a little too much to drink’ Jason said as he began running the water, helping you undress.

Every chance you got you’d give Jason a sloppy kiss, making him laugh as you were basically licking his face.

‘You want to get in with me?’ You smiled at Jason, who shook his head.

Helping you wash down and rinse, Jason got you into bed and cuddled with you. Making sure you had plenty of water to help ease the headache, though not stopping you from having a hangover.

‘Morning, you cute thing’ Jason smiled as he saw you open your eyes, you winced a little.

‘Sh, babe you’re screaming’ you whispered, Jason just laughed. Handing you some water and your glasses.

You gulped the water down within seconds as Jason rubbed your bare back, kissing you on the back on the neck.

‘I think I might puke’ you announced, getting out of bed and going to the bathroom.

‘Well, someone had a good night’ Jason smiled, placing one hand under the back of his head, laying back down.

After a few hours, you were still hungover but you felt better. Jason drove you both home, with you falling in and out of sleep in the passengers seat.

‘I’m gonna get into bed when we get in, I feel like I could sleep for hours’ you said, Jason just smiled.

You spent the rest of the day and early evening in bed, resting and drifting in and out of sleep every now and then.

Jason was productive as he went around cleaning, doing laundry and cooking for the two of you.

‘God, I’m still so tired, how is that happening?’ You asked, Jason chuckled.

‘Hangover? And staying up till 2am probably’ Jason suggested, you nodded and sipped on your water.

‘You want some wine with dinner?’ Jason asked, you shot him a look.

‘You being funny?’ You asked, Jason laughing and almost choking in his food.

‘Honestly, what a question to ask. The audacity’ you joked, Jason still choked as he continued to laugh.

The two of you kissed slowly as Jason got ready to go out on patrol, reluctant to leave you as you began to make him stand up in his pants. But alas, criminals don’t take breaks.

Red Hood was more relaxed tonight, seems criminals were taking a little break. Also, Red Hood was a little calmer now that he had his love at home.

It felt like it had been so long since Jason first saw you, in the little coffee shop. Now, he had you all to himself.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #arkham knight x male reader #red hood x nerd #red hood x male reader #jason todd x nerd #jason todd x male reader

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nvoirs · 1 year

Note

do you mind writing something for leon comforting his gf after having a nightmare.. like he stirs awake because he can just sense something is wrong

tw: suicide in reader's dream.

Everything was covered in darkness, you could barely make your way forward as you stumbled and felt for the wall on your left. You gritted your teeth, but froze when you saw a faint light. The faint light of a street lamp. A figure stood a ways ahead, and you rushed to make any verbal discussion because you were going crazy in seclusion. A familiar face turned to you and you halted your rapid steps.

“Leon?”

Confused and cocking your brown he sadly smiled at you before stepping off the high cliff that magically crafted itself inside your punctured brain.

“Leon no!”

You woke up sweaty, your heart hammering so hard you were scared it would slip out. You pushed yourself up with your elbows, leaning against the headboard swiftly. You looked around wildly before your eyes settled onto the sleeping figure of your lover. Leon. He was okay, you shakily sighed as you stroked his hair softly. His right hand clutching onto your thigh, smiling you slowly removed it as you got ready to leave the bed.

“Where are you going?” he softly called voice slurred with sleep.

“Nowhere Leon, just need some water.”

By now he’d sat up to face you, a concerned expression creasing his features. “Don’t lie to me,” he pleaded. “Your water is untouched.” he indicated to the full glass of water that sat on top of your bedside draw.

“Talk to me.” he grabbed both of your hands, massaging your fingers efficiently.

“It was just a dumb nightmare that’s all.” You mumbled, swiping the sneaky tear that had made its way down the apple of your cheek.

“Baby you're crying, come here.” Leon pulled you towards his broad chest shushing you as he left soft, tender kisses along your temple, dabbing away the salty fat tears that kept escaping your glassy eyes with a crumpled tissue.

After around ten minutes of Leon successfully calming you down, he mumbled into the shell of your ear. “Gonna tell me what you saw in that nightmare of yours?” You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing the strewn, messy hair away from your shoulders as you surveyed him frightened.

“I’d rather not Leon, It was just.. Silly really.” Leon was a stubborn man when he wanted to be, and right now he was going to use his stubbornness on you. He needed to know what you saw in this negative dream of yours, so he could crush all the bullshit it spewed inside your delicate mind.

“Trust me, If you talk It out you’ll feel better.” You bit your lip at his warm words, releasing a heavy sigh you took one of his hands starting to play with his fingers. Leon loved this gesture so much, you using him to fiddle with was so cute.

You managed to choke out the last words about your sinister nightmare, and Leon’s eyes widened at your ending words. “No way.. You really think I would jump? Seriously? That’s not happening, I would never do that to you, ever.” Leon clasped his hands in your own trembling ones, and he squeezed reassuringly before leaning down noses nuzzling as he left a love drunk kiss upon your sweet lips. “Bad dreams.. Well all dreams, no matter good or bad, tend to erase themselves from our minds. So don’t worry my love your safe here”

You pouted, “Okay dream expert I’ll take your word for it.” You slid under the covers an exhausted moan leaving your open lips, Leon joined you underneath as you cuddled into his side.

“Mm baby, you want to order something to eat?” Leon yawned.

“What places are going to be open at 7am on a weekend Leon.” You giggled, poking his nose.

“Don’t worry I know a few.” He replied, pinching your nose in return.

“Hmm okay, If my oneirologist says so.” You both laughed, sinking into the softness of the covers once more.

#leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leonkennedy #leon kennedy fluff

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rafecameronsslxt · 1 year

Text

Hooked

Warnings: Toxic relationship, drugs, and angst.

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Rafe Cameron throws a party, but things go south rather quickly ending in tears and anger.

Rafe cameron x OC

Part ONE of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Part TWO- Part THREE- Part FOUR- Part FIVE- Part SIX- Part SEVEN

My first ever Rafe Cameron Fanfiction and first time posting on tumblr, yes I’m nervous.

Word Count: 2,335

Adriana didn’t want to cut the conversation short of JJ talking crap about her boyfriend TO HER, but Adriana needed to get ready for the party.

“OK, JJ, I get it. Just shut up for a second, and let me get this on.” I’ve been listening to him for an hour about Rafe, how I NEEDED to break up with him, and that JJ would be the best boyfriend ever. As much as I loved JJ, I’d never date him, but he wishes.

I made a twirl motion with my finger for JJ to turn around. He did. “Wait, so if I were to break up with Rafe, you think I’d date you? A kook dating a pogue!” I gasped dramatically. “Rafe would kill you. We’ve been dating since high school, J.” I laughed a little at the thought. He turned back around, seeing me in a tan bikini. “It’d be worth it for my kook best friend and my true love.” JJ takes my hand and kisses it. I throw my head back, laughing. “Go away.” I put on white flowy shorts that fit my waist perfectly, a tan button-up long sleeve, and then tied it.

I spun around, showing JJ my entire outfit. He looks me up and down playfully and checks the time. “We have to go!” He says quickly. I mumbled ‘right’ and rushed out with JJ running behind me. He picked up all the belongings I’d forgotten, like my purse, which had about everything in it and then my phone.

We arrived at the party. “Why can’t you come?” I gave JJ my best pouty face. “Rafe would have a fit like usual, and I got shit to do, unlike others.” He coughs, hinting at me being a kook, and gives me the worst excuse. I roll my eyes at him and shut the truck door. Like JJ has EVER cared about what Rafe thought.

The first thing center and in the middle was Rafe- snorting coke. You didn’t linger on the sight you’d just seen as it was something you guys had argued about almost every day, it seemed. I walked away and went to find Kie or Sarah, knowing the two would be around somewhere.

I decided to walk outside to the pool. There she is. “Sarah!” I called out to her. Sarah ran up to me and hugged me. “I missed youuuu.” She says, giggling. Sarah takes my hand, forgetting she’d just been sitting with Topper and the others. She takes us into the kitchen and starts mixing alcohol. At most, I’d seen was vodka, maybe Tequila, and something else. “I don’t want to get wasted tonight.” It was meant to come out in a way that didn’t seem like I was questioning my logic or the words that just came out.

“Come on. Rafe has been bringing you down for days now.” She slurs her words while a frown stays on her face. She shoves the cup of ease in my hand and leaves me to it, but just before she goes, Sarah blows you a lovely kiss. ‘Drink it,’ she mouths to you and stumbles away laughing.

I swish the liquid around in the red solo cup, deciding whether I should drink it. I take sips of it while I walk around. I spot Rafe again and turn around quickly. I bump into Kie. “KIE, where have you been.” I smile at her. “Just having fun.” She winks at me cheerfully. “No way my Kiara is macking some Kook.” I run a hand through my hair, laughing. I take another sip out of the cup Sarah poured me. “Boyfriend alert!” She coughs, moving her eyes behind me. “I’ll see you later, and give me details,” I whisper while laughing. She gives me a thumbs up and cheers me.

I feel him put his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, baby.” I clear my throat, looking up at him with a smile. “Who was that?” He questions with a look in his eye. I was too tipsy for his games today. If Rafe were to ask me to do coke with him right now, I’d say no but hesitate, and I’m not one to hesitate for anything. This is why I stopped drinking alcohol; it makes me vulnerable to bad decisions.

“It was Kie. Why?” He shrugs his shoulder. “Just asking, babe. You know how about you and me- me and you go up to my room.” I nodded, but I did it with reluctance at the pure fact that he was hiding something physical or he was going to tell me he was cheating. So instead, he kissed my neck and then took my hand, leading me upstairs.

I take my sneakers off and sit on his bed. “Ok. Just listen.” I let out a nervous breath. He takes out a bag of coke. “Ra-” He shuts me up by talking over me and then stops when I do. Rafe cages me in as both arms go on either side of me. “Listen, baby. You should let me,” He pauses, looking into my eyes. I can tell it’s something I’m not going to agree with, especially since it has to do with this. “Just let me do coke off your tits.” I scoff.

My back hits the bed as I laugh sarcastically at his brilliant idea. I sit up on my elbows. He takes this as an opportunity to get on top of me. “Last time I let you do that, you- you fucking held it over my head every time I asked you to get better.” I shake my head in disbelief. To this day, he holds it like a poster high in the air when I force him to stop doing this or when we get into arguments.

He unties my shirt, throwing it onto the ground. “Rafe. I’m not doing this with you.”

“Baby, if you let me do this, I’ll let it go. I will. Promise.” He holds out his pinky finger as his other hand finds the bag of coke. I think about it and then link my pinky finger with his. He smiles at me. “Mhm, I miss the badass, Adriana.”

Rafe gets on his forearms so that he’s closer to me. I pull him in for a kiss. He takes it. It was rough and fast-paced. Then, Rafe starts kissing my neck, undoubtedly making his marks for others to see later on. He moves to my cleavage and looks up at me. I nodded, trying not to smile. Rafe takes off my tan bikini top, looking almost primal in a way or whatever it means. I start feeling hot and sweaty with him on top of me, smothering kisses all over my boobs, giving me too much time to think about what I’m doing.

“Rafe fucking pour the coke on me before I say no.” He opens the bag of white powder and dumps some on my boobs. He mumbles, ‘Fuck’ getting off of me. “Rafe, I swear to god if you leave me here.” I feel like I’m on coke. “Baby, I’m right here. Calm down. I’m going to look for a dollar bill. It should be- oh right here.” He smiles at me but then realizes how anxious I look. He gets back on top of me. Rafe kisses me softly. He rubs my cheek with his thumb gently. “We will have the best sex after this. I promise that I’ll fuck you as hard as I can.” He winks at me, which makes me feel a little better, knowing I’ll get some solace out of this act. Right?

I feel the dollar bill on my skin and look at Rafe. He pauses; he doesn’t notice that I’m looking at him. The rolled-up bill glides across my chest quickly. Rafe lets out a sigh of relief. His face turns red, and I watch his pupils dilate. I feel like crying. “Shit, baby, ready.” He grabs my hips, pulling me closer. I try to stop crying, and I do, but I don’t want to ruin this because he’ll get mad. “Why are your eyes red.” He questions me and puts his face closer to mine. He sighs.

“Why are you about to cry.” He tries not to look mad, but I can tell he’s getting there. I look away. “Adriana, I’ve been calm with you all night. Don’t start this shit now!” Rafe’s hands make their way to my face forcing me to look at him. His thumb was under my chin, and his index finger held my chin in place. “I’m sorry. Can we just do this, please?” I try and go in for a kiss, but he gets off of me.

Tears start falling. Like a lot of tears start coming out. Rafe throws me the top of my bikini. I don’t put it on yet; instead, I cross my arms, covering my boobs. “Put your fucking top on, Adriana. It’s over. You already fucked it all up.”

“Please, Rafe, I can fix this.” He turns his back away from me as I try to make him turn around. “Why are you crying. Adriana why!? I mean, make me fucking understand, ADRIANA.” Rafe starts yelling as he points at himself, angry at me. “Can you help me?” My voice turns shaky as I ask him. I’ve tied enough of my own tops to know how to do this, but maybe he’ll calm down. “See, I can fucking help you, and you can’t help me. I just wanted to do some cocaine and fuck, but you can’t even do the simplest thing.” Rafe whispers in my ear threatenly as he ties my top too tight.

“Look at me.” He demands. I look up at him. I can feel him press against my lower back, although I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose. His hand snakes up my stomach to my neck. He squeezes my neck and then kisses me hard. I kiss back, but not with the vast amount of intensity as him. He lets go of my neck as I let out a breath that I was holding in, and It was hard to breathe. “I’m going to go back downstairs. Ok, baby. I love- you.” He raises his eyebrows at me, obviously calming down. “I love you too, baby.” I barely smile at him and decide against giving him a soft kiss like I usually would in these situations, which we also seem to be in more because of me.

Rafe left me alone in his room, not bothering to ask if I wanted to come with him. Of course, I didn’t, but still. I sit down on his bed and start breaking down. I look down at the floor and see my shirt that I don’t care to pick up or put on.

I lay down and get under the comforter as his smell envelops me. I start to hyperventilate. My organs feel like they're stopping, and my lungs are out of oxygen. As I try to breathe, I feel someone sit down on the bed and hug me. “Adriana, what did he do,” Kiara asks me, concerned. “Nothing- I just need to breathe, Kie.” I count in my head, breathing in one, two, three, and then breath out. I do it a couple more times. Finally, I reach a stable point where I can breathe without it being ragged.

Kie lays in the bed with me. “Ad, you have to tell me what happened.” She puts her arm around my waist. I take a deep breath in. “After I talked with you. Rafe took me upstairs obviously and- and asked to do coke off my boobs, and I let him and then started crying because I just-” My voice starts cracking, and I start sniffling. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s not your fault, Ad. You just wanted to make him happy.” Kie hadn’t been sure of her response to this situation and was still unsure about what had happened. Kiara rests her head on me. We lay here for another five minutes in peaceful silence.

I am so grateful to have Kie. I don’t know what I’d do without her. “Hey, the party is probably ending. I have to go, ok. I love you.” She smiles at me and then gets up. I pull her in for a hug. “I love you too. Make sure to tell me details tomorrow.” I laugh a little. She waves at me, smiling and shuts Rafe’s bedroom door leaving me all alone.

I started to get uncomfortable in my clothes, ergo I changed into one of Rafe’s button-up long sleeves neither did I put shorts on, just panties. I usually never used my phone, but I always kept it with me just in case something happened, and I wanted to see if Rafe had maybe texted me. There was nothing other than JJ telling me goodnight. So I texted with a simple ‘gn.’ I wasn’t in the mood tonight for his B.S.

I put my phone on the bedside table and went to sleep. I didn’t see tonight ending like this, and I wished it hadn’t

Rafe entered his bedroom, turned the light on, and saw Adriana sleeping. “Adriana, you awake.” He asked her, but there wasn’t a reply. He wanted to make sure she’d been asleep, plus he felt like shit and couldn’t handle another argument tonight.

The tired boy took off his polo shirt and shorts, throwing them on the ground next to his girlfriends’ clothes. Then, he got into bed with her as her sleeping body faced him. He felt terrible that he made her think that the whole argument was her fault when it was all his fault.

Rafe pulled his body closer to Adriana’s. She moved closer to Rafe as she tried to get comfortable in her sleep. “I’m sorry.” He said sincerely to the still beautiful sleeping girl.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x oc #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst

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imaginingmarvelandeverything · 2 years

Text

Slow Day

Pairing: Jason Todd (version unspecified) x F!Reader

Warnings: threats, mentions of crimes, mentions of death, Dick’s a nosy bastard

Word count: 1790

A/N: Castle of Glass won the vote so here’s part 9! The next chapter of In Better Circumstances will be out on my birthday on Sunday! I rewrote this several times and I’m still not entirely happy with it, but it is just a filler chapter before the next. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

Y/N groaned as her alarm went off. She blindly reached out to switch it off, swearing when she knocked her phone off the nightstand instead.

“What’d set an alarm for?” Jason slurred into his pillow, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I’ve got a conference call. They’re handing out this months assignments.” She told him, hanging off the edge of the bed to finally silence her phone. She was so tired, between work and running comms for Dick and Jason each night until the sun had already risen, she was running out of energy. But neither of them were willing to come in any earlier, just in case the Joker decided to give some insight into his location.

“Sounds fun.” He mumbled, opening one eye to peak at her.

She sat up and turned to look at him. His curls were all over the place, strong arms buried under his pillow as he laid on his front, t-shirt pulled tight over the rest of his muscles. He looked younger like this, more his age, as if he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She brushed his curls back from his face and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, loving the way he immediately leaned into her touch. “Go back to sleep.”

He hummed in agreement and she could tell he was already mostly back to sleep. She climbed out of his bed with a smile and made her way back into her room next door. She wondered if any of his siblings had noticed they were sleeping in each others beds yet. In a house full of detectives, she wouldn’t be surprised, even if hardly any of them ever came down that particular corridor. Sleeping in each others beds hadn’t been part of their initial discussion, but they quickly realised how much better they slept together rather than on their own. Her feelings hadn’t changed, she still felt safer with him closer, and she knew it settled his nerves knowing she wasn’t just going to be ripped away in the middle of the night.

She turned the shower on high before she stepped in and tried not to think about how long she had been stuck in the house. She couldn’t really complain, the manor had enough rooms and outdoor space, but the only other time she had spent three weeks straight in one place had been when she refused to tell Luthor’s men what they wanted to know.

***

Y/N looked up from her computer and pulled her headset off as someone knocked on her door. “You can come in.”

Dick walked in and immediately threw himself face first on her bed, Haley trotting in after him on her three legs. Y/N pushed her chair back from the desk and lifted the Pitbull puppy into her lap as the dog yipped happily at her. She scratched the puppy behind her ears as she waited for Dick to say whatever he had come to say.

“I hate my family.” He groaned into her duvet.

“You didn’t have to move back into the manor, me and Jay would have been fine.” She said, lifting Haley up and walking over to the bed. She clambered on while trying not to drop the puppy and sat cross legged next to Dick’s head.

He turned his face to the side so he could look at her. “If I’d have let Jason come back unsupervised, he would have shot someone by now, Tim would get even less sleep than normal, and Bruce would have had an aneurysm.”

“So what’s the problem today?” She said, failing to keep the smile off her face as Haley nipped at her finger for attention.

“Jason and Bruce just nearly got into a fist fight in the kitchen over that photo you gave Bruce last week, Jay doesn’t think Bruce is doing enough to keep you safe. Tim fell asleep in his cereal this morning and still went into work, and Damian is having more issues at school but hasn’t told Bruce and doesn’t want me to get involved.” Dick let out a long sigh. “So I’ve come to hide with you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who says I’m going to let you?”

“Me. Because I’m your best friend.” He whined like a child. “And you owe me for not telling he rest of the family that you haven’t slept in this bed all week.”

It was her turn to groan as she dropped back to lie next to him, making sure Haley was secure on her stomach.

“I take it you and Jay talked about what happened after the gala.” Dick’s eyes were full of mischief and she was half tempted to just not tell him anything.

“We did.” She chose to vaguely say, turning her attention back to Haley.

“Oh come on! Do you know how bored I am here? Give me something, please.” He sat up and plucked Haley out of her grip. The puppy seemed happy enough as she immediately started licking his chin.

“We talked, mainly about boundaries and things, and decided to take things slow.” She said, pushing herself up onto her elbows and pouting at having the puppy taken away from her.

“Sleeping together doesn’t seem to be taking things slow.” Dick raised his eyebrows.

She sat up and smacked his arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Grayson. We haven’t- We didn’t- Nothing has happened. We- uh- just figured out we sleep better together rather than alone.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” He stared at her for a moment before he smiled again. “So, do I need to give the shovel talk to you or Jason? Because on one hand he’s dating my best friend, but on the other, you’re dating my resurrected little brother.”

“God, Dickie I don’t think you need to give anyone the shovel talk.” She groaned and laid back down again.

“Okay. One more question and then I’ll drop it?” He smiled softly.

She huffed. “One more.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Have you- have you talked about that night you met?”

“Briefly.” She said carefully, following suit and chewing on her lip. “He apologised. And after I explained what happened with Luthor when I met you, I could tell he meant it. He also talked me through most stuff about the pit. The stuff I didn’t already know I mean.”

He nodded, his blue eyes studying her closely. “That’s good.”

She hummed. “How long do you think I’m going to be stuck here?”

“Hopefully not much longer.” He sighed. “The Joker is a tricky bastard. Most of the other times we’ve recaptured him, it’s only because he wanted to be caught.”

“Jason’s not planning on bringing him in alive this time.” She said quietly.

“I know.” He matched her volume. “And I think he’s right. The Joker’s hurt too many people now, keeps hurting people no matter what we do.”

She nodded, not sure what to say to that.

“I should let you get back to work.” He gave her a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She groaned. “I just want a nap.”

“Then nap.” Dick scooped Haley up into his arms and started walking back towards the door. “Just make sure you’re awake for dinner or Alfred will throw a fit.”

“Will do.” She watched him go and decided to flip a coin to see if she should sleep or get ahead on this months assignments.

***

Y/N was already half asleep by the time Jason climbed back through the window, even though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour since him and Dick signed off on patrol. She listened the familiar clicks as he started stripping himself of his helmet and suit, and blindly reached a hand out towards him once he was finished.

He chuckled under his breath but reached out and grabbed her hand before leaning down to press a kiss to the part of her head that was peaking out of the covers.

“’m cold.” She mumbled, still on the edge of sleep.

He hummed. “I know, let me just grab a quick shower and I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

“Be quick.” She said, turning over and burying herself further into the duvet. She had expected the heating in the manor to be better, but she supposed they were in the furthest corner and it must be hard to heat a building this size.

She must have started to drift off again because it seemed like barely a minute later that the mattress was dipping with Jason’s weight as he climbed into bed.

“C’mere then.” He said, opening his arms for her to slot into.

She wasted no time wrapping her arms around his chest and tangling her legs with his. He hissed slightly as her cold feet grazed his bare calves and she couldn’t help but laugh. She resisted the urge to slip her cold hands under his shirt, that was a boundary he had been very clear about and she wasn’t going to push him on it until he was ready.

She shifted closer to him and rested her head over his heart as his hand rubbed up and down her arm in an attempt to warm her up. “Did you always run so hot, or is that also something that came after?”

“After. Bruce thinks the pit reset my metabolism, which sent most of my body haywire. So, I run a few degrees hotter than I should, and it overcame all of the damage living on the streets did, so I can build muscle and I actually reached the height I was supposed to.” He said, nudging his head against the top of hers it a way that reminded her of a cat.

She leaned up and placed a kiss in the underside of his jaw, cracking an eye open to see the small smile that graced his face at the contact. “I know you have mixed feelings about it, but I for one am not sorry for those side effects.”

“No, those aren’t so bad.” He said softly. “Get some sleep.”

She hummed in agreement and got comfy against him again. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered into her hair.

Part 10

Taglist: @fives-coffee-cup @xnorthstar3x @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @literally-a-ferret @thomaslefteyebrow @elleclairez @shimmeringgrim @throw-away-shifting-journal @egglantine23 @elleraelockwood @dcgoddess @snapchatisoverrated @elisa20beth @phoenixgurl030 @collaps3r @simonsbluee @pariahsparadise @lydiaisgeeky @ashyvillain @missdayytona

(shoot me a message to be added/removed)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #haley the dog #the joker #castle of glass #curran walters #titans #dc

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ksywoo · 2 years

Note

svt leaders leaving you a fluffy drunk voicemail??

SVT leaders leaving you drunk voicemail

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader, kwon soongyoung x reader, lee jihoon x reader (separate) pronouns: not specified word count: 2.3k (total) genre: fluff, so fluffy, established relationship in cheols, confessions in hoshis and woozis, some of them are very pouty, overall lots of simpery from the leaders, drunk woozi is pissed he has a crush /hj, can be read as idol or non-idol svt warnings: all three leaders are drunk/tipsy, no mention of reader with alcohol, cheol and soonyoung talk about wanting to get married note: this was requested right before cheers came out, great timing anon, also adorable request I had so much fun writing this ehhehe definitely have more ideas for this type of thing so let me know if y'all want this with other members !!! just make sure to check guidelines before requesting :)

masterlist

choi seungcheol

You just finished a long day and, knowing your boyfriend was at a meeting this evening, you decided to head straight home. You missed Seungcheol, but you knew work was important and his meetings were necessary. He was always incredibly stressed because he felt like he needed to be giving ideas and making sure all the members agreed on decisions. He took too much weight and responsibility for the group’s success when he didn’t need to.

You decided to try calling him, hoping he was done early and would have time to see you and comfort each other after your long days. There was a voicemail from him, only an hour old. You must have been getting ready for bed when he tried calling. You called him back but when he didn't respond, you listened to the voicemail to see what he needed.

The first thing you heard was your name slurred from his lips. “Hi,” he giggled.

At first, you were kind of annoyed. Here you were, missing your boyfriend after a long day, and it turns out he’s drunk with his friends. You forgot how sometimes their meetings were much more casual than formal.

“I miss you so much. I know I saw you – hiccup – this morning, but – hiccup – that was so long ago.” You could practically see the pout on his lips as he spoke with a slight whine, and you felt your anger melt away. You sat down on your bed, continuing to listen to his voice. “We-we had our meeting and then the boys wanted to go out to dinner and I was like – hiccup – I wanted to but I also really really really really really miss you. But then one of them… one of them told me I wasn’t being a good leader by not going so…” he trailed off and you immediately forgave him, even though that wasn’t what he was asking for.

“But now we’re drinking and all I can think about is how much I miss you,” he continued. “I think I’m getting old because I’d rather be snuggled up at home with my partner than be out drinking with the boys. When did I become such an adult? I guess we are adults. Hey, we should get married. I mean it. I want to marry you, Y/n. We could have a cute little home and maybe even kids if you want, or like, a pet. Cause then maybe you wouldn’t be as mad at me when I do go drinking with the boys instead of staying home with you because I’m sure you’re probably mad as hell at me right now. You had a lot going on today and probably just wanted to fall asleep with me. I do, too. I wanted to just go to bed and cuddle with you. I’m sorry. I’ll come home. I’m gonna find Mingyu and make him take me home. I love you.” The voicemail ended abruptly in the middle of his next sentence as if he forgot what he was doing.

As if on cue, you heard your front door open and two pairs of feet stumble in. You quickly followed the sound, trying to not dwell on how much Cheol said he wanted to marry you (you were definitely going to talk about that with him).

“My love!” Cheol cheered softly at your appearance.

Mingyu was holding the shorter’s shoulders, steering him inside the house with difficulty.

“Thanks, Mingyu. Sorry if he was a lot. He left me a voicemail and he sounds… drunk.”

“Blame Jeonghan for starting a drinking competition and saying he wasn’t a good example if he didn’t participate in bonding activities.”

“I’m going to kill him,” you promised with no real threat as you held Cheol’s arm to help him walk. “I got him, Gyu, you can go home. You need sleep too.”

“Thanks, Y/n. Have a good night, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See you,” you smiled at him, waiting for the door to close so you could lock it behind him. You turned to Cheol, who was staring at you with a goofily in love smile.

You shook your head. “I’m going to marry you,” you said as if it was a burden that didn’t make your heart flutter.

kwon soonyoung

You smiled at your phone, knowing your friend Soonyoung was out with your friends for a celebration you couldn’t attend because you had to work. You had to let it ring out in favor of keeping your job. It made you a little sad because you loved talking to drunk Soonyoung; he was so openly flirty and extra endearing because he got sleepy quickly. You hoped he didn’t need anything but trusted that the boys were responsible enough to have one of them sober and looking after the others.

When your shift finally ended, you listened to the voicemail Soonyoung had left you, expecting to have plenty of blackmail material to use on him later.

It started with him softly calling your name. “Heeeyy,” he slurred before giggling. “I’m not allowed to call you because Wonwoo says I’m gonna say something I’ll regret but you know me better than anyone so I don’t mind telling you anything you want to know.”

He wasn’t making sense, but you patiently listened as you walked to your car.

“I wish you weren’t working because I want to hang out with you. You should pick me up from this place, it sucks without you. Oh, but you’re working.” He whined. “Why do you have to woooorrkk. I want to dance with you. I always wanna dance with you. Even though you’re not a good dancer. You’re pretty so it’s okay. I like you so much I don’t care if you’re a bad dancer, I’d still dance with you at our wedding and show you off to everyone and tell them you’re mine– Oh, hey Wonwoo’s coming, hey Wonwoo! Why does he look scared? Oh, because I’m on the phone and he’s worried I’m gonna tell you that I like you–”

His voice was cut off by some shuffling, followed shortly by Wonwoo’s voice.

“Hey, Y/n…” he said awkwardly. “I don’t know what Soonyoung told you, but you should know he’s incredibly drunk right now. Uh, yeah. Anyway, hope you have a good rest of your shift and… get home safely. We miss you!”

The voicemail ended abruptly, leaving you confused in your parked car. Soonyoung told you he liked you all the time when he was drunk; he was an affectionate drunk. Right? But then why did Wonwoo go through so much to prevent Soonyoung from calling you while drunk?

You tapped your steering wheel before dialing Wonwoo’s number. He answered quickly.

“Hey, are you guys still out?”

“Yeah, some are getting pretty tried though so we might go home soon.”

“I can come help get everyone home if you want. I just finished work.”

“Oh…” he paused. “Uh, yeah, sure. Did Hoshi call you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, a laugh in your voice. “I need to talk to him when he sobers up.”

“Did he say anything….. Incriminating?”

“I think you know the answer since you snatched the phone out of his hand.”

“I’m asking so I can know if our friend group is going to have to take sides or not,” he admitted with a small laugh.

“Don’t worry, as long as it wasn’t the alcohol talking, no one’s going to have to pick sides.”

Wonwoo breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. I promise it wasn’t just him being drunk, you have no idea how long he’s– never mind, he can tell you tomorrow. Come over and help me with everyone, please.”

“I’m on my way.”

lee jihoon

Jihoon had been acting strange lately, and you didn’t like it. He was quiet around you when normally he would talk your ear off about a new project he was working on or a new discovery he made about making music, but for the last few days, every time you hung out he was fiddling with his hands and looking everywhere but at you.

“What’s up with you?” you asked him finally, annoyed that he sat so far away from you after walking into your shared apartment.

“Oh, uh, nothing? Why? What?”

“Jihoon,” you laughed. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

He shrugged awkwardly. “Nothing is wrong!” he defended too quickly. “I’m normal!”

“No, you aren’t. Did I do something? Did I not do something?”

“I don’t know… I guess you being normal is what’s wrong.”

You frowned. What did that mean? “Is there a reason I should be acting differently?”

He paused, blinking owlishly in confusion.

“Y/N!” your third roommate, Mingyu, called from across the apartment. “I FOUND YOUR PHONE!”

“What?” Jihoon asked quickly.

“REALLY?” you called back, ignoring Jihoon to collect your lost phone. “Where was it?” you asked as Mingyu met you in the doorway of the living room.

“It was under my bed. It must have slipped under when you laid on my floor the other day complaining about your boy problems–”

“Okay, that’s enough. Thank you,” you said, cutting him off before he could expose too much of that conversation in front of Jihoon, who it mostly revolved around.

“Wait, you lost your phone?” Jihoon asked quickly, eyes darting between the phone and your eyes as Mingyu left to go back to his room.

“Yeah, on Friday,” you explained. “Thanks, Mingyu.”

You noticed Jihoon look at the ceiling like he was calculating something while you opened it up to look at any texts you had been sent over the last few days.

“Oh, you tried calling me? Sorry, Jihoon,” you said, jumping back a little when he quickly stood up.

“O-oh, that, uh, yeah, no big deal. Don’t worry about it. Literally, don’t even think about it for another second–”

“Why did you leave a voicemail?” you asked, giggling as you clicked on it. “I thought you said voicemails are awkward and…”

“Y/n, wait–”

You both paused as your mouth dropped, listening to past Jihoon talk.

“Y/n, you’re messing me up. I can’t… like… write songs. Because of you. I’m trying to write a heartbreaking song about being sad and being betrayed by your love but I can’t because all the songs I write are about you. And nothing I can write about you is bad because even though you don’t like me back, I can’t find it in me to hate you because you still make me happy every day. I have no reason to hate you or be sad about it because you don’t even know that I love you, so it’s not your fault. But what is your fault is being so nice to me and being the best person I’ve ever met because now I’m stuck on this sad song. How do you write about sad love when you’ve never experienced it? I don’t think I’ll ever experience bad love as long as I love you. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop loving you.”

Drunk Friday Jihoon rambled on but you were staring at sober present-day Jihoon, who was pulling his beanie down his face in a desperate attempt to hide as he shrunk into the couch.

“Jihoon, are you serious?” you asked softly, but to him it sounded like you were yelling in disgust.

“Please don’t hold anything against me, I don’t even remember what I said,” he mumbled into the cloth covering his face, his hands still holding the beanie to his chin. “All I know is I had an unanswered call to you and a vague memory of leaving a voicemail but I don’t even know what– I mean, I have a pretty good guess of what I said but I… I’m sorry.”

“Your songs are about me? And you can’t write a sad love song because of me?”

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I was guessing it was about.”

“Hoon, please look at me,” you coaxed as you sat next to him and placed your hand on his leg.

He slowly lifted the beanie and peeked at you, making you laugh and pull it all the way up. “Is this why you’ve been weird all week?”

He nodded shyly, cheeks, ears, and neck all flaming red. “I thought you heard it and just pretended like you hadn’t. But I didn’t even know what I said so I didn’t know how to confront it and I figured if it was something like me just being regular drunk you would have brought it up and made fun of me but since you didn’t, I was like, ‘oh, great, I professed my love and they hate me so they’re saving me by pretending they don’t know so I don’t get embarrassed more’. Either way, I just need the rejection to be over with so I can find a new place to live–”

“What makes you assume I’m going to reject you right now?”

“I hope that means I already said I love you in the voicemail unless you’re just pretending you didn’t hear it again,” he mumbled. “Because that would suck if I hadn’t said it yet but just said it while rambling.”

“You’re still rambling,” you laughed softly, endeared by his embarrassment. “But you did say it in the voicemail already. And I’m not ignoring it. I’m trying to first understand why you think I’m automatically going to reject you?”

He made eye contact with you but nothing more, just looked at you hoping you would say something, anything.

“I love you, Jihoon. When I lost my phone, I was crying to Mingyu about how much I liked you and trying to think of how I could tell you.”

His eyes widened. “You what?”

“I love you.”

“I’m never going to be able to write a sad love song, am I?”

“Nope,” you smiled. “Not if I can help it.”

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 months

Text

IntiMarch 2024 Day 15 - Snark me better

The prompt for this was "Is this your first time?"

Suguru’s hands shake as he slides the lock on the bathroom stall into place. His legs feel like jelly, his body is heavy and he feels hot and cold all over. Suguru curses under his breath.

That fucker Kenjaku must have put something into his drink when he wasn’t looking.

“Suguru!” Kenjaku’s cheerful voice rings out and Suguru feels sick just hearing it.

It’s good he fled to a toilet, he’s probably going to throw up in no time.

“Suguru, what are you doing? Come back out there,” Kenjaku cajoles him, but Suguru doesn’t move a muscle.

Isn’t even sure he could, at the moment, even if he wanted.

“Go fuck yourself,” Suguru growls out and rage curls in his stomach when Kenjaku only laughs.

“I’d much rather fuck you,” Kenjaku gives back and there it is again, that sick feeling. “You know,” Kenjaku says, almost conversationally, “your friends all left already. What are you going to do? Stay in there until they kick you out? I’m patient, you know.”

It makes a shudder run down Suguru’s back and he realises that his situation is not looking all that great. He’s trapped in a sketchy club, in a skivvy bathroom, with nowhere to go and a literal creep waiting for him.

He really should have just stayed home tonight.

Suguru doesn’t deign to give Kenjaku an answer and instead leans his head against the wall. Kenjaku will have to leave the bathroom eventually and if Suguru can manage to get his limbs back under control he can easily outrun him.

Or knock him unconscious. Suguru would be fine with both.

But right now he still feels unstable, his limbs way too uncoordinated to even get the door back open and Suguru wearily closes his eyes.

When someone else comes into the bathroom, he jerks back up, and briefly wonders just how much time he lost, but when he manages to take his phone out with clumsy fingers, he sees that it hasn’t even been ten minutes.

Kenjaku will still be there, then.

Suguru sighs out, his eyes darting over the walls of the bathroom stall, taking in all the horrendous smearings that are everywhere.

His eyes get caught on something fairly legible and Suguru stills. The text simply says ‘Call me’ with a number noted down underneath and even drugged half out of his mind, Suguru knows that this is such a bad idea, but what else is he going to do?

It’s at least worth a try and in the worst case it will give him something to do for a few minutes. A few minutes where he doesn’t have to think about Kenjaku and what might be waiting for him should he go out there.

So Suguru dials the number and presses the phone to his ear. He’s weak enough that he has to prop his elbow on his leg, slumping forward in an almost uncomfortable position, and lean his head against the wall, so the phone won’t fall down.

It rings for so long that Suguru thinks nothing is going to happen, but then there’s a click on the other end of the line.

“What?” a voice drawls out, slurred with sleep and Suguru lets out a harsh breath, tears suddenly pricking his eyes.

“I need you to pick me up,” he says, even though he knows just how insane it is to say that to a complete stranger.

“Huh?” the voice gives back though Suguru can tell that the guy is gradually getting more awake by the second. “Who are you?”

“Suguru,” Suguru replies and he can basically hear the frown over the line.

“I don’t know a Suguru,” the guy says and Suguru chuckles.

“I suppose not. Your number is in a bathroom stall.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end.

“That fucker really did it,” the guy then mutters and Suguru closes his eyes.

He has a nice voice, he finds himself thinking and it’s not good that his thoughts are drifting like this. He needs to concentrate.

“Hey, you said you needed me to pick you up? Where are you? What’s going on? You don’t sound so good, you know?”

“Yeah, duh,” Suguru whispers out and just then someone enters the bathroom, the heavy beat of the music filtering in for a moment.

“What? Got shitfaced and now can’t live with the consequences?” the guy asks and he sounds mean about it.

Suguru likes it, even though he still feels like shit.

“Someone drugged me,” he answers. “He’s still waiting here.”

“Someone drugged you?” the guy calls out and he sounds outraged. “Where are you?”

“Why, you coming to get me out of here?” Suguru almost sounds hopeful, but he can’t help it.

Kenjaku might try shit with him, but he would never if someone else is there, if someone else pays attention. He’s a sketchy little fucker, adamant to stay in the shadows as much as possible and Suguru curses the day he was ever nice to that guy.

“Yeah, I am,” is the answer he gets before some rustling can be heard. “My name’s Satoru, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Suguru weakly gives back and swallows back against a wave of nausea. “Sorry to bother you like this.”

“You’re way too polite for the situation you’re in,” Satoru grumbles. “So tell me, Suguru, where am I going?”

Suguru tells him the name of the club and Satoru huffs.

“Sweet, that’s not even two blocks, I can totally walk that, no need to wake up my driver.”

“Ehm,” Suguru says, not really knowing what to make of that now, but he can most definitely not walk that. “I’m kind of indisposed. Can barely stand, let alone walk.”

“No worries, I’ll drag you home without problems,” Satoru promises him and Suguru hears keys chime.

“I’m kind of big,” Suguru admits, because his stature is nothing to scoff at and yet Satoru only laughs.

“I’m over 6'3″, I think we’ll be fine,” Satoru flippantly gives back and Suguru silently raises an eyebrow.

It is kind of tall, but that’s really not all they need.

“I’m around the same but—”

“Great. Listen, you wanna stay on the phone? Is that creep still there?”

“He said he’d be waiting for me to eventually come out of here, so I’d guess yes.”

“Oh, great, I hope he tries shit when we leave. I haven’t punched anyone in the face in so long,” Satoru gleefully says and Suguru briefly wonders just what the hell he’s getting himself into.

“I’m kind of tired,” Suguru slurs out, exhaustion hitting him like a brick and Satoru hums.

“Men’s bathroom?” he asks and Suguru makes a noise that hopefully means affirmation. “I got you. You go sleep for a while,” he tells Suguru and the words barely left his mouth before everything around Suguru goes dark.

He comes to with a start when someone knocks at the stall door.

“Yo, Suguru, you in there?” Satoru’s voice calls out and Suguru slumps with relief.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he asks, because there is no way that Satoru just walked past the bouncers out front. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t be stupid now, no one can resist my charm,” Satoru replies. “Except you maybe, because the door is still not open.”

“Gimme a moment,” Suguru pleads, because coordination is hard and his head is pounding now.

He fumbles the lock twice and then almost faceplants into the door when he tries to pull it open and by the end he’s sitting on the ground, sweat-soaked and exhausted.

“There you are,” Satoru says and the most gangly creature Suguru has ever laid eyes on squats down in front of him.

“You’re lanky as hell,” is the first thing Suguru says to him and watches how Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he laughs.

Surely that must be a trick of the light.

“Strong, too, you’ll see, my muscles keep all this lanky-ness together,” he promises. “You ready to leave this place or what?”

“Did you—see a creep with a scar across his forehead?”

“The guy who drugged you? Sorry, I didn’t really pay attention to anyone, but seriously, don’t sweat it. If he does something I’ll punch him, no problem.”

“You’re kind of insane,” Suguru mutters but he does try to drag himself to his feet.

“Kinda have to be to pick up random strangers in filthy bathroom stalls, no matter if they’re hot,” Satoru cheerfully says and reaches out, sliding his arms around Suguru and simply yanking him up. “You good?”

“That’s kinda hot,” Suguru admits, because he’s by no means a small man but Satoru made that move seem effortless.

“I know, right.” Satoru smiles as he says it and when he winks at Suguru, he thinks he might have laughed but his head hurts like hell and he actually just wants to get out of here.

“I’m so ready to leave this place now,” he says, repeating Satoru’s earlier words and Satoru only grins at him before he slings one of Suguru’s arms over his shoulders, one sliding behind his back and then he marches them right out of the club.

Moving is hard, and Suguru is too busy to try and at least keep up with Satoru’s long strides, so he doesn’t get a chance to look around and see if Kenjaku is really still around and waiting for him or if it was just an empty threat.

Suguru isn’t sure how they make it to Satoru’s place but he is certain that most of it is thanks to Satoru. There’s no way Suguru would have managed three steps on his own.

“And here we are,” Satoru finally says, not even sounding slightly out of breath as he deposits Suguru on a comfortable couch.

“You really did it,” Suguru mutters, quickly fading now that there’s no danger lurking around anymore and he longs to simply fall back, into the comfort of the couch and not have to think for a while.

“Told you I would,” Satoru says with a shrug. “I’ll go get a blanket for you and some painkillers for tomorrow, but don’t stress yourself, just pass out like you so clearly want to.”

“Promise to be better company tomorrow,” Suguru mumbles, barely audible, and the last thing he knows is Satoru patting his head and saying “I’m counting on it.”

And then there’s only blissful darkness.

~*~*~

Suguru wakes up to the smell of coffee. It’s the only pleasant thing that morning, because his head feels as if it’s being split open and there’s a strange taste in his mouth. Suguru lets out a deep groan. It doesn’t help with the headache.

“Morning, princess,” a cheerful voice calls out and Suguru forces himself to blink at least one eye open.

When he sees a mop of white hair, sparkling blue eyes and pure lanky-ness in front of him, it all comes back in a rush.

“Fuck, Satoru.”

“Always an option,” Satoru blithely says as he squats down next to the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Suguru honestly gives back and then gives Satoru a grateful smile when he holds out the painkillers for him.

He quickly washes them down and then falls back into the couch.

“Let that sit for a while. You want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?”

“How are those my only options?” he groans out but when Satoru only shrugs he gives in. “Waffles, please.”

“Will do. Join me when you feel like you can move again,” Satoru says, already marching off towards what Suguru assumes must be the direction of the kitchen.

“You got coffee for me?” he calls after him but Satoru doesn’t even stop.

“If you can make it into the kitchen, sure,” he easily says and then vanishes through a doorway.

“Asshole,” Suguru grumbles under his breath, though he’s not really mad.

This is all rather—comfortable, if he’s being honest, apart from the splitting headache and the shit that happened last night.

Suguru stays on the couch for a while longer, but soon the smell of waffles joins that of the coffee and that’s enough to get him moving. Fuck painkillers. They’ll do their job eventually.

“Oh, look who made it!” Satoru greets him and immediately puts a pot of coffee and a stack of waffles down in front of him. “I have sugar and milk and every syrup you can think of but you strike me like the kind of guy who prefers it black.”

“Not true, caramel, please,” Suguru gives back because overdosing on sugar this fine morning seems like a good idea.

He deserves it after last night, anyway.

“Wow, a man after my own heart.” Satoru dramatically swoons before he quickly gets the syrup and then they fall into comfortable silence as Suguru demolishes his waffles.

It does wonders for his stomach and his head and his general mood.

“These are amazing,” he says between bites, because they are but Satoru only smirks at him.

“I know,” he replies and then leans closer to Suguru. “So. Is there anything you want me to do to that creep of yours? The options are varied and I’m willing.”

“Huh?” Suguru asks, still chewing his last bite because surely Satoru cannot be serious.

“I’m very intolerant when it comes to drugging people—and everything that usually comes after—so I’m offering my services.”

“What the hell could you even do?” Suguru wants to know, not because he’s seriously considering it, but because Satoru sounds so sure about himself.

“I’m very smart, very bored, very rich, and come from a very influential family. Just say the word. I can get him fired, evicted or arrested for some made-up bullshit. I can also just go and punch him in the face, if that’s more to your liking.”

“Very humble, too,” Suguru mutters but then he allows himself to imagine it for a moment. Satoru proved last night that he’s strong; strong enough to carry Suguru two blocks, even though Suguru is more muscle than anything else. But it would put Satoru on Kenjaku’s radar and he’s not going to risk that.

“Nah, the punching is out, I don’t want you near him. Who knows what he’d do in retaliation.”

“Aww, you’re worried, how sweet,” Satoru says, smiling brightly. “But with that option out—any of the others catch your attention?”

“I—kinda like the idea of having him fired,” Suguru admits. “Or evicted.”

“Make that an ‘and’,” Satoru nods, as if it’s already decided. “I can totally do that.”

“You seem awfully comfortable with this. Is this your first time?” Suguru wants to know and decides that the tingly feeling in his chest has nothing to do with the way Satoru smiles at him.

“Picking up hot guys in bathroom stalls? Yeah. That’s a first for me.”

“Could have fooled me,” Suguru mutters under his breath and Satoru reaches out to pat his hand.

“No worries, you’re very special that way.”

Suguru might still feel like shit and Kenjaku might still be out there, but right now things are somewhat good and Suguru decides to take a chance.

Satoru is just his type after all. Snarky and hot and strong enough to hold his own.

“Special enough to be allowed to save your number and see you again?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee in an attempt to hide his blush.

“See me again? You’re thinking about leaving already? Shame, I kinda wasn’t done with you,” Satoru almost purrs out and Suguru refuses to admit how hot that is.

“Oh? Tell me more about those plans of yours then,” Suguru demands and leans forward, putting his cup of coffee down.

“First of all, you’re going to shower,” Satoru starts off. “Coming out with my clothes, of course.”

“Possessive, I see.”

“Then you’re going to trash talk the most atrocious movie I can find with me, before you let me drive you home, so you can change into real clothes and I can take you out for lunch.”

“Not dinner? You wound me so.”

“I’m not really good at planning that far ahead,” Satoru shrugs. “We’ll have to make new plans during lunch. I’m sure we can think of something.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely certain about that,” Suguru agrees and he marvels at how easy things with Satoru are.

It’s almost as if they have done this a thousand times already.

“I’m picking the place for lunch, though, because I know a restaurant that makes the best tiramisu. You’ll like it.”

“That’s bribery,” Satoru immediately says. “And not necessary, because I’m already interested. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Yeah, no, I picked up on that,” Suguru says with a laugh. “Now. The shower?”

Satoru pouts at him when he gets up.

“What?” Suguru asks, though he can guess.

His fingertips tingle with anticipation.

“I valiantly come to your rescue in the middle of the night, take you away from bad, no good people, give you shelter and then feed you and I don’t even get something in return?”

He dramatically blinks at Suguru who thoughtfully hums under his breath.

“Mh, I mean—I can get you a plant as thanks, if you really want.”

“Suguru!”

Suguru laughs.

“Or I can do this, I guess,” he goes on and leans down to kiss Satoru.

He keeps it short and firm and by the time Satoru blinks his eyes back open, he’s almost to what he guesses is the bathroom.

“I expect a change of clothes to be ready when I’m done,” he calls over his shoulder and he hears Satoru make an annoyed sound.

“I charge a kiss per piece,” he calls back and now that makes Suguru stop, just in the doorway, turning around to give his most flirty smile at Satoru.

“Better dress me properly then,” he says and then firmly shuts the door behind him.

This is going to be fun.

#bt writes #jjk #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu #no curses au #strangers to lovers speedrun #kenjaku is his own warning #date rape drugs #humor #flirting #banter

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symbioticsimplicity · 1 year

Text

I’m gonna have to name this little AU if I keep going, but I have no idea what I’d call it. Suggestions? Part three of these posts. AO3 link!

Part 4

“Okayokayokayokay,” Steve said, half way through their second shared bottle of vodka, “I gotta know, if this’d happened, like, two years ago, would this have happened?”

Billy squinted at him, the cogs in his head almost visible as he tried to make Steve’s question make sense. Eddie and Tommy however seemed to latch right onto the meaning behind his slightly slurred words.

“Noooooo.” Eddie declared with a shake of his head and a wave of his hands, “Nope. Woulda ended bloody ten minutes in. Tops.”

“The hell are we talking about?” Billy asked, rather than continuing to try to puzzle it out.

“This,” Tommy gestured to the group at large, “Us. Could we have all hung out in the same space like this.”

“That is not what he asked.” Billy muttered.

“It’s what he meant.” Tommy shrugged, laying back against the floor.

“Yeah!” Steve agreed, “What’dya think Bills?”

“First, don’t call me that.” Billy’s glare wasn’t half as intimidating with his cheeks all rosy like that, “Second, no way. I couldn’t stand any of you back then. Munson gets a pass, cause he had the hook up.”

Eddie pumped his fist in the air and Tommy made a wounded little noise of derision.

“What? Why didn’t you like us!” He rolled so he was facing the group again, though still laying as comfortably as he could.

“Is that a real question?” Billy cocked a brow.

“Yes!”

“Because you were assholes.” Billy said as if it were obvious.

Tommy threw his hands into the air in exasperation and turned to Steve, gesturing emphatically, the pinching of his eyebrows saying everything his mouth wasn’t.

“Uh, Billy, you were also kind of an asshole.” Steve replied for Tommy since he was too worked up to get the words out without his voice cracking like a middle schooler’s.

“I had a reason to be.” Billy shot back, his expression crumbling into irritated resignation almost the moment the words left his lips.

Tommy scoffed, and Steve knew the next words out of his mouth would be the kind that started fights and that was the last thing they needed at the moment. He moved without thinking, slapping a hand over Tommy’s mouth to both their surprise.

But in for a penny, in for a pound.

“You haven’t gotten the time to develop a ‘don’t be a bitch’ filter yet, so I’m going to do it for you, just this once.” Steve said, leaning in so he didn’t have to speak at full volume, “Before you say anything I want you to think about if it’s going to get you punched in the nose or not. If the answer is ‘yes’ pick something else.”

Tommy glared at him, and licked the inside of his palm. The sensation had Steve pulling his hand back only to wipe it off on Tommy’s already ruined polo.

“You’re so gross! Have you seen the shit I’ve killed today? You’re gonna catch turbo-AIDS.”

Eddie snorted, earning himself a shove from Steve.

“Thanks, Steve.” Tommy pointedly flicked his attention back to Billy who was watching the whole thing while sipping a can of coke he’d pulled from the six pack nearby, “What makes you think we didn’t also have reasons to be assholes?”

Billy scoffed, glancing at Steve for a moment before he seemed to reconsider whatever he was thinking.

“Guess I don’t know, Tommy. What was your reasoning?” He pulled his legs up so he was hugging his arms around his shins, still holding the coke by his fingertips, “Can’t think of much a rich kid with two functional parents and plenty of friends could really be that upset about.”

Eddie made a noise somewhere between agreement and comradery, but otherwise kept surprisingly quiet.

Steve squeezed Tommy’s arm from where he’d left it after wiping his hand on him. Tommy’s self control was usually dubious at best, but his self control in regards to saying some genuinely hurtful shit was virtually non-existent. Or at least it had been the last time Steve had spent any meaningful time with him.

So he was surprised when Tommy took a breath and seemed to follow Steve’s advice about thinking before he spoke.

“Probably isn’t as good as your’s, whatever the fuck that is.” Tommy shrugged, “But that’s why. Growing up that way, that’s what people think you’re supposed to be like. You’ve got everything, you’re supposed to flaunt it. Everyone likes you, you’re supposed to act like it. You’ve got people who care, then you’re supposed to be happy.”

Tommy’s face was carefully blank, the same that he used when he was being more of an asshole than he had to be and didn’t want to feel it. The one that Steve had seen every time someone told him how much of a dick he was somewhere someone else might overhear it if he ever said ‘I’m sorry.’

“Just how it is. Fighting it gets you thrown out with the losers, and the losers hate you because you were an asshole. Steve here knows all about that. Sucked, didn’t it?”

Steve met Tommy’s stare, pursing his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah. Got better eventually. But yeah.”

“See, I’m not like Steve. I’m not a good person deep down, and I’d much rather be comfortable than do the right thing or whatever. Especially if doing the right thing still lands you here.”

He gestured to the room at large, illustrating how they were all more or less trapped together.

For a moment they were all quiet, Tommy’s words seeming heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Steve was about to change the subject, just to dispel some of the awkwardness that had coagulated around them but Billy beat him to it.

“I’m not either.” His voice was hushed, which was just as weird as hearing Tommy being quiet, “A good person. I’m not. Could have done a million other things, didn’t. It’s easier to just….let it all happen.”

Steve was sure he’d never heard Billy volunteer information like that. Despite having fallen into frequent proximity months ago, he still felt like he barely knew the guy. He knew more about Eddie who he’d known for far less time.

“Well if anyone’s asking me, I think you’re all assholes.” Eddie’s easy quip slid in, easing some of the tension almost effortlessly, “But the thing about assholes? If you stretch ‘em, they can grow.”

“Munson, what the fuck?” Billy leaned away from him.

“It’s true!”

“It’s fucking gross!” Tommy threw the end of a Vienna sausage at him, “Do you just say shit like that on purpose or are you actually queer?”

“If I were, you, Tommy Hagan, would be the very last person I would tell.” Eddie lobbed the corner of a poptart back at him. “Last thing this minefield of a quartet needs is homophobia.”

Tommy squinted at Eddie, “Okay now, that one pisses me off. People just assume I hate the gays just because I’m an asshole about everything else.”

“Tommy, think about what you just said for a second.”

“It’s different! Being a dick to, like, regular people is one thing. The gays have enough shit going on, with the bible thumpers. And the whole bible thing is stupid anyway! I’ve read that thing front to back like three times and the whole Sodom and Gamorah thing was about child abuse so that’s a whole lot of people admitting they can’t fucking read. Which just makes Christians look stupid so it makes me even more pissed off cause if I’m gonna look stupid I want it to at least be for a problem I do have. I can’t do trig but I can at least fucking read--”

“Tommy,” Steve pushed him gently to jar him out of the rabbit hole he’d just gone down.

Eddie was staring at him like he was the single most baffling puzzle he’d ever seen, a growing sense of amazement lighting up a smile like the sun cresting the horizon. If there was anything Eddie Munson was, it was uncomfortably perceptive. Steve knew that well enough by now, but Tommy was just about to find out.

“Well, then, in that case, yeah, I’m kinda queer.” Eddie said, casual as anything, despite Billy choking on his soda beside him.

His shrewd eyes locked onto Tommy, and Steve knew he’d be picking apart each little individual bit of his reaction and running it through whatever process in his head equated to judgement. Tommy, to his credit, while looking absolutely floored Eddie had just dropped that like it was nothing, didn’t react much more.

“Okay.” He said once he’d gotten his voice back.

“Okay?” Eddie raised both eyebrows.

“Well what do you want me to do, a backflip?” He wiggled his injured leg, “Not really on the menu right now.”

Eddie grinned and shook his head, looking absolutely delighted, “Man, meeting you two is starting to fuck with me. Cool jocks. Who would have thought?”

“Crazy what can happen when you get to actually know someone.” Steve let out the breath he’d been holding that entire conversation through.

“Yeah, crazy.” Eddie agreed.

By the time they finished the second bottle of vodka it was just after nine. Reasonably they should turn in for the night but Steve was still wired from the day’s action and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one.

Eddie couldn’t settle at the best of times, while Billy and Tommy were tossing an orange back and forth. If Steve ignored the bloodstained rag wrapped around Tommy’s leg, and the distant sound of demobats, he could almost pretend they were having a sleep over.

A sleepover with his ex-best friend, his rival-turned-ally, and his other rival-turned-friend.

Sure, totally normal.

“We should go to bed.” Steve suggested, mostly just so he could say he’d tried to be responsible.

“Unless you mean that in a sexy way, no. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.” Eddie replied without looking away from the window.

If Steve could hear the demobats, he was sure Eddie could too. His leg was bouncing and every line of his body screamed ‘tension’. Normally, Steve would have sat him down beside him, pet through his hair and got him talking about something until he chilled out a bit. But given present company…

Given present company? Would they really mind? Yeah, of course they would, they’d both give Steve a metric ton of shit. But would that be it? It wasn’t like they’d beat his ass over it, Eddie had just come out like three hours ago. Maybe Steve was just too far in his own head.

“Eddie?” He called, getting the other’s attention, although not in full, “C’mere for a sec.”

Eddie turned all the way back to him, biting his bottom lip like he was trying to tear the skin off it with just his incisors. So, even more freaked out than Steve had thought. There was no way he was going to prioritize being a coward over Eddie who clearly needed his help.

He sat down beside him, just a little too close as always. Steve scooted even closer, sliding his hand into Eddie’s hair and scratching just the way he knew he liked. Almost immediately his shoulders lost some of their tension.

“So, if you’re not going to sleep, and I’m not fucking you, what should we do instead?” Steve asked, earning himself a laugh.

“How about we play something.” Tommy suggested, despite the question not being addressed to him in the least.

“Like a sleepover?” Billy huffed what almost could have been called a laugh, “What’re we, sixteen year old girls?”

“I could braid your hair too, Sunshine~” Eddie winked at him.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Like you don’t love it.” Eddie grinned right back.

Steve was surprised to see a blush rise on Billy’s cheeks, though he didn’t get to see it long before he was turning his head away.

“If you two wanna stop flirting, I was gonna say two truths and a lie. That one’s always fun.”

“Sounds great, Billy you should go first.” Eddie couldn’t help but tease.

Steve pulled on the baby hairs at the base of his neck a little, getting a hiss out of him and a poke to the side for his trouble.

“Fine.” Billy turned back to the group and held up three fingers, “I have killed a man, I will kill again, and it burns when I pee.”

Tommy looked stricken and Steve could relate. He knew at least one of those was true, although he felt obligated to argue that while Billy’s body had certainly killed someone, he himself hadn’t. Though, he supposed from Billy’s perspective that line probably didn’t feel as clear.

“Second one’s a lie.” Eddie answered, his voice deceptively calm.

“Munson wins.” Billy laid back down and tossed the orange to himself.

“Wait, no, hold on, back it up.” Tommy mimed pumping the breaks, looking just as goofy as his dad did when he did that, “Can we talk about that first one?”

“The game was two truths and a lie, not two truths a lie and an investigation. Mind your own business Hagan.”

“Nah, man you made that my business.”

“He didn’t kill anyone.” Steve said firmly, staring Billy down even though he wasn’t looking in his direction as though daring him to argue, “He was possessed.”

“Possessed? Like Linda Blair possessed?”

“Worse.” Billy answered shortly.

“First monsters, now demons? How in the hell has all this shit been happening without anyone knowing until the town literally split in half?” Tommy blinked, his head reeling back as he tried to make that make sense, “You’re good now though, right? Not possessed anymore?”

“Mostly.” Billy answered cryptically.

“I’m trying really hard not to flip a shit here, and you’re really not fucking helping Hargrove.”

“I don’t know how else to put it. It’s not in me anymore, but I can still feel where it was. I can still hear it, if it’s close. I can still do some of the things it could. Still don’t feel hum--” Billy cut himself off abruptly.

Eddie and Steve locked eyes across the circle. Later, they’d deal with that later.

“How about we play something else?” Steve suggested.

“This one is easy.” Steve explained, “We go in a circle, we say things we haven’t done and if you’ve done the thing someone is saying, you put a finger down. Last one to put all their fingers down, wins.”

“This is stupid.” Billy grumbled for the third time.

“But you’re still playing~” Eddie leaned over to bump his shoulder to Billy’s.

The blonde didn’t reply.

“I’ll go first this time.” Tommy all but decided, “Hmmm, never have I ever gone skydiving.”

None of them put a finger down, if anything Billy just stared at Tommy as though he could make him pick up his disapproval like radio waves.

“Right,” Steve thought for a moment, “Never have I ever dyed my hair.”

Eddie and Billy both put a finger down while he and Tommy kept their ten.

“Oooh what color?” Eddie eagerly asked.

Billy hesitated a long moment before answering, “Pink.”

Eddie’s head tilted as his smile stretched wider, “You’d look good in pink, sunshine.”

Billy rolled his eyes, “Never have I ever voluntarily worn a polo shirt.”

“Targeted!” Tommy whined, putting a finger down as Steve shook his head and did the same.

“I’m trying to win, Hangman. Skydiving? Seriously?”

Tommy paused at the use of his old nickname. Steve hadn’t thought Billy knew that one, given that Tommy had gotten it years before he’d come to town. Hangman Hagan, they’d called him for years, because fucking with him was tantamount to a social death sentence. Tommy had never been one to simply get even, no, when he set about to ruin someone, he ruined them. As inescapable as the hangman.

It seemed to have flipped a switch in him, Steve could see the moment his competitive nature lit up in his eyes.

“Alright, Sunshine, let’s go then.”

“It’s Munson’s turn.” Billy smirked back, nodding his head over at him.

God help them, Eddie was wearing the same damn smile. As much as Steve cared about them each individually (and wasn’t that a thought), he hoped they never hung out like this again. It was too much chaos per square inch, if this kept up something would end up on fire, he just knew it.

“Okay, never have I ever played basketball.”

Steve, Tommy, and Billy all put a finger down.

“Low blow Munson.”

“Really, not even once?”

“No wonder you can’t run for more than three minutes!”

“Your turn, Van Hagan.” Eddie said around his shit eating grin.

“Fine, you wanna throw cheap shots? Never have I ever kissed a guy.”

Eddie made a face and put down a finger. But so did Steve, and so too did Billy.

“All of--”

“Put a finger down, Tommy.” And God help him now Steve was smiling too, couldn’t help it.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to toss his hands in the air and shout a the top of his lungs.

“I knew it!” He barked as Tommy put a finger down, “Birds of a feather, every fuckin’ time!”

“I’ve got to admit I’m surprised that all of us have.” Steve said, much more calmly than he felt, because all of them had kissed a guy before. If he thought about that for more than a few seconds at a time, he might actually implode.

Eddie’s head whipped over to Billy who was looking anywhere other than the group. He hadn’t tried to take back his answer, however, so that was encouraging.

“I’ve gotta know, who?” Eddie asked the room at large.

“Tommy, duh.” Steve replied as though it were obvious, “How else would I have caught that?”

Eddie nodded, still smiling like an idiot, “Right, yeah, good point.”

“Steve.” Tommy answered, “And, uh,” His eyes flicked over to Billy and Steve almost choked on his tongue.

“Seriously?! When?!” He managed to get out, though his voice sounded like he was being strangled.

Eddie laughed so hard he ended up wiggling around on the floor, pure joy erupting from him.

“Like, right after he got here? We met at a party before we met at school.”

“Crystal’s party? The one I was sick for? The one with that hot blonde that you wouldn’t stop talking about for a week? The hot blonde you met was Billy?”

“Uh huh.”

“You talked about me?” Billy’s smile rode the line between the genuine one Steve had seen glimpses of recently and the trashy smirk he’d worn all through high school.

Tommy’s face was beet red, “Might’ve.” He muttered.

“Sounds like you had a torch burning. What changed?”

“You talked.”

Eddie had been half way to sitting up but immediately lost the battle.

#stranger things #tommy hagan #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #mungrove #harringrove #harringroveson #stommy #the four idiots of the apocalypse #billy being that friend that casually drops really horrible facts about their life #eddie and impulse control have never met each other and they live in separate countries #steve is just here for the ride mostly but he's also trying to make sure nothing catches on fire #tommy is a bastard yes but he's OUR bastard now #ha³son

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