#WHY DO ALL THE BATS HAVE TO BE SUCH GODDAMN MOODS ALL THE TIME

[ddejavvu]

Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 2) | Part 1

WC: 7.0K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie is happy to teach you everything he knows about DnD, he just wishes you weren't so goddamn distracting

Contents/Warnings: eddie n wayne, besties forever <3 very very fluffy lots of yearning and ridiculously cheesy moments, lovesick!eddie, reader wears a skirt and eddie's hellfire shirt from part 1, suggestive material, but still minor-friendly (part three will not be)

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Christ on a cracker, son,” Wayne swears, nearly pushed to the ground as Eddie slams the trailer door open, “Calm down.”

“Sorry Wayne!” Eddie barely takes a second to breathe before he flies through the space, feet pounding on the matted carpet of the trailer as he races to his bedroom. 

“What’s the rush?” Wayne is well aware of his nephew’s recreational habits, as well as his business endeavors, and shudders to think that there might be some drug-crazed lunatic after the boy. 

But Eddie pops his wide-eyed face out from his bedroom only seconds later, shirt and pants torn off to leave him in his boxers as he darts for the shower, “There’s a girl coming over.”

That’s a new one. Wayne has heard a few feminine voices outside the trailer before, when they’re out of stock and need replenishing, but Eddie never showers for them. He probably should, Wayne always tells the boy that if he stinks any worse he’ll have to move out, but he’s never shown an interest until now.

“And,” Wayne peers into the bathroom, seeing Eddie frantically combing out his hair, the plastic nearly snapping under the pressure he’s putting on it, “This is a special girl?”

“I- I don’t know,” Eddie huffs, his crazed panic still alive as he whirls around the bathroom for a clean towel, “Sort of. I don’t really know her yet.”

“Y’know ‘er enough to care.” Wayne prompts him, and Eddie deflates slightly. He’s looking in the mirror, trying to part his hair neatly so that he can wash it easier. He stops, his hands falling from his head to his sides as he stares hard at his reflection.

“I want to impress her.” Eddie admits, his usual self-assuredness now gone, “Or- impress isn’t right,” He puzzles for a moment, his eyes drifting over his features, “Just- I don’t want to scare her away.”

“Well I think it’s good you’re showering then,” Wayne lightens the mood, “‘Not sure she could handle your B.O.”

“Shut up,” Eddie takes the out, shoving at his uncle’s shoulder with no real force, “I’m gonna order pizza for us. She wants to learn how to play DnD.”

Wayne’s eyebrows skyrocket, “She wants to learn? Or have you kidnapped and brainwashed her like those basketball players tell me you do?”

“She’s under my control,” Eddie rasps, his voice thick in his throat. 

Wayne snorts, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, “Alright, boy. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need help getting ready for tonight, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, flashing his signature grin at his uncle before he shuts the door.

Wayne watches the closed door with something light and airy filling his chest, maybe laughing gas at the way he chortles hearing Eddie drop the comb into the sink for the tenth time since he started. Then he turns, and the reality of their home hits him.

It’s messy.

Far too messy to accept company, which is why the pair hasn’t for years. Aside from Eddie’s trusted friends, all of whom are far too sloppy themselves to bat an eye at the general clutter around the trailer, no one has set foot in their space for five long years.

Now, he’s all for encouraging Eddie to be himself, that if someone doesn’t like who he is, then they’re not fit for a friend. But he’s sure that you’re far too important to Eddie for that test just yet, and he’s not sure he wants you to get to know his nephew as messy when there’s so many other qualities he possesses. That’s something you can discover later, when you’re hooked on his charm and wit and won’t mind stepping on a pair of boxers or two to get down the hallway. He gets to work clearing away mindless clutter, collecting shirts strewn over the furniture and paper plates tucked under the couch.

By the time Eddie finishes showering (and falling, twice), Wayne has the entire living room de-cluttered, although most of the loose papers and items have made their way onto the kitchen table instead of being put in their places. Eddie steps out of the bathroom, towel tucked around his waist and a hand in his curls, dragging his fingers through the wet tangles, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Shit,” He breathes, watching his uncle crouch to tug an empty beer can out from behind the door and stuff it into the trash bag he’s got going, “Wayne, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” Wayne states the obvious, raising an eyebrow unimpressed at his nephew’s cognitive skills, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Are-” Eddie stops combing through his hair, standing limply in front of his uncle, “Are you doing this ‘cause Y/N’s coming over?”

“That’s her name?” Wayne smiles, “‘S a pretty one.”

“You are,” Eddie marvels, “Uh, thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne’s hands and knees burn against the scratchy carpet, the beer can in his hands sharp from being crushed. He stands, the worn fabric of his flannel falling limp against his distressed jeans. He stands there, tattered and messy, looking at the way Eddie’s cleaned himself up.

He’s wearing a tank top, a KISS shirt that he was gifted on his tenth birthday. It’s got tour dates on the back, one of which Wayne took Eddie to as a present. Apparently it didn’t look good enough as a t-shirt though, because the boy had taken scissors to it a few years back, carving out holes the size of craters that expose part of his side. 

His hair is bundled up in a bun atop his head, scrunched up and crimping itself while it dries. He always tells Eddie not to do that, to leave it down so that each strand can dry individually, but Eddie hates the feeling of wet hair on his skin, so he pulls it up and leaves it sitting until he can blow-dry it.

The same ripped jeans he’d worn to school are back on his waist, belt cinched tight around him with his handcuffs pinned there. Wayne always tells him he’ll confuse someone, make them think he’s an undercover cop, but Eddie only laughs at him. There’s a chain hooked through his belt that rests on his hip, dipping close to his knee and gleaming in the artificial light above them. 

There’s two necklaces bouncing against his chest as he walks over to help Wayne with the overflowing trash bag, his typical guitar pick and a dog tag he’d found in the street one day. It says Sprinkles on one side, but Eddie swears that it looks metal if he turns it the other way, the owner’s number stamped across it. 

He has an earring in. Eddie almost never puts an earring in, because his at-home ear piercing hadn’t produced the most sanitary results. He says it burns when he wears earrings, but here he is, a heavy silver hoop through one ear and a black cuff pinched tight at the helix of the other.

Wayne looks at his nephew, his boy, and pride surges through his chest. Pride, a little bit of awe, and happiness. He cares. This is something Eddie really cares about, you are something Eddie really cares about, and it’s obvious by the things he’s done for you before you’ve even come over. Eddie has always cared, perhaps a bit too much, and it’s easy to tell when he does from the little things he pieces together to show it.

“You look good, boy.” Wayne breaks the careful silence the two had slipped into, watching Eddie tug the straps to the garbage bag. He reddens slightly, his cheeks flaring in color, something akin to the shade of the tomato soup he’d managed to botch for last thursday’s dinner. How the boy had undercooked a can of soup, he’d never know.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie mumbles, forearms flexing as he ties a knot into the strings of the garbage bag, “I’ll take this out.”

“We should start on your room,” Wayne points out as Eddie tries making his frantic exit, spooked by praise. Eddie nods once, and Wayne lets him escape to the dumpster to process the emotions he’s got swirling inside of him. 

He knows the boy gets shy around praise, which is why he tries not to overwhelm him. But today is different, today is a bigger step than he’s seen Eddie take in a long time, and it’s hard not to burst with pride.

When Eddie comes back inside Wayne is already tiptoeing around his room, dodging suspicious socks and cassette tapes strewn about. Eddie gets to work stacking those, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they set to work.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s voice is timid, meek.

“Yeah?” Wayne reaches under his bed, pulling out a magazine that he shouldn’t have and a sock, something Wayne doesn’t want to think about as a pair.

“Do you.. Do you really think I look nice?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stammering, shaking his head so that his bun wobbles dangerously, “I- I mean, like- not like nice, but do you… you think she’ll like it?”

“Son, if she asked you to teach her about your game, I’m sure she’s not scared of you.”

“But is that enough? Shouldn’t she,” Eddie abandons the cassettes in his hand, scratching bashfully at the back of his neck and combing through the stray hairs there, “I dunno, like me? Not just not hate me?”

“Well I’d give her some time if I were you,” Wayne chuckles, reminded of the restlessness of youth, “You’ve only known her a day.”

“Right.” Eddie nods frantically, eyes glued to the tapes he busies himself with again, “Yeah, I will.”

“Hey,” Wayne reaches out, bracing a hand on Eddie’s knee that’s bouncing frantically, “You’ve got this, boy. You can do this. She’ll love you.”

The word love has Eddie’s cheeks flaring the color of it, a deep red that Wayne sees most often on valentine’s day cards. He chuckles once more at his nephew’s crush, shaking his head and getting back to sorting through clutter.

--

By the time Eddie’s watch beeps, a tinny, mechanical sound that has him leaping onto his feet to rush for the door, they’ve gotten his room mostly under control. There’s a pile of dirty laundry stull bulging out of the closet, but that can’t be avoided, as the hamper is broken from a rather unfortunate sledding endeavor a few months back. You’ll just have to live with the sight of yesterday’s t-shirt in the corner, they decide.

“Okay, uh- thanks, Wayne.” Eddie brushes his hands on his pants, already sweaty from nerves, “I’m gonna go pick her up now.”

“Right,” Wayne stands, trash bag in hand with all of Eddie’s discarded food wrappers and beer cans, “Good luck, son.”

The term flares up Eddie’s blush again, but Wayne doesn’t comment on it, offering him a quick hug, a simple pat to the back. It’s all Eddie can handle right now, already a bundle of nerves that he doesn’t want spilling out.

“There’s a $10 on the fridge,” Wayne calls out after Eddie bounds down the steps of the trailer,tugging the rubber band out of his hair and letting it spill over his shoulders,  “Use it for pizza!”

“No, no,” Eddie waves his uncle off, plunging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “I got it!”

“Eddie,” Wayne glares at the stubborn boy, “Use the money on the fridge.”

Eddie balks at the aggressively kind gesture, but a wry smile curves over his lips, “Whatever. I’ll just sneak cash into your jacket while you’re asleep.”

“You will not,” Wayne huffs, but Eddie’s already taken off for his van, slamming the door behind him with a hearty laugh at his uncle’s grouchiness.

When Eddie pulls up to your house, having checked the little slip of paper buried in his pocket, oh, around a thousand times, one of the upstairs lights is on. It’s the only one on, the rest of the windows pitch black, and Eddie worries that maybe something is wrong. Your house looks near abandoned, but at the rough chugchugchugging of his engine, a downstairs light flicks on. He catches your silhouette thumping down the stairs and sees the outline of a skirt over your hips. His stomach flips and he shuts off the van, hurrying out so that he can beat you to the door. It seems gentlemanly, something he’s never been too concerned about, but it feels right in the moment.

He’s inches from the door as you wrench it open, a fist raised to knock while you step out of it, not expecting him there on the other side. Your eyes widen but you can’t stop your momentum, stumbling clumsily into his chest despite your efforts to slow down.

“Oh!”

“Eddie!” You speak in unison, your voices mingling just as your limbs do. His arms wind around your waist, laying over his hellfire shirt that you’ve tucked into the waistband of your skirt. The material is soft under his touch, but not as soft as your face, which hits his shoulder in your scuffle. Eddie feels a burst of warmth flood through him at the skin-on-skin contact, and holds you steady as you right yourself against his chest. Your hands brace themselves frantically on his stomach, your chest heaving as you gape at him, “I’m so sorry! I- I wasn’t paying attention, I just heard you coming, and- and,”

“If you were that excited to see me,” Eddie doesn’t know how he’s being as suave as he is, because his heart is practically hammering through his ribcage to affix itself to you like a lovesick leech, “You could have asked me to come earlier.”

You feel your cheeks flare with heat as you slump forwards, the crown of your head hitting Eddie’s clothed chest, “Stoooop.”

Eddie chuckles, adjusting the pitch of his voice to your own, “Stoooop.”

“You’re mocking me!” You shove at him lightly, making him stumble a step backwards, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” Eddie finally lets you go, his skin instantly cold where it had once touched yours, “You gotta be nice to me. I’m teaching you DnD, remember?”

“Fine,” You huff dramatically, “You get a pass, but only for tonight!”

“Deal.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with mischief, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You confirm, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“Van’s there,” Eddie gestures to his van, nearly tripping over his own feet when you grab his hand, eagerly tugging him along, “Woah!”

“I told you I was ready.” You gush, the words coming out in a soft giggle that makes his heart burst.

You look out of place in his van, too heavenly to be wriggling comfortably into his worn seats. There’s a half-drunk water bottle by your feet that crunches beneath your shoe, and you apologize hurriedly for crushing it.

“‘S okay sweetheart,” Eddie snickers, reaching down to pluck it out from under your feet, “It’s, like, months old.”

“Eddie,” You chide, “It’s probably growing something!”

“It’s fine,” He urges, snickering at your horror, “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

He leaves you with that, shutting the door to your side of the car and jogging around to the driver’s side door. He wrenches it open, his hair bouncing against his chest as he sits down with a flounce. The radio that he has is already preloaded with the cassette tape he uses whenever he drives Wayne anywhere, his favorite metal artists and their less-overwhelming songs. Wayne always says heavy metal ‘makes his ears bleed’, he’s more into classic rock, but Eddie will be damned if he isn't listening to Mötley Crüe on any drive longer than two minutes. He figures that he’ll be courteous to you at first, just in case metal isn’t your thing either.

To his surprise, a minute into Merry Go Round, your brow dips in concentration.

“Mötley Crüe, right?”

Eddie swears he nearly passes out. His usual response to surprising information, a dramatic flailing of his limbs, doesn’t seem very safe just now, and you’re lucky he doesn’t jerk the wheel to the side.

“Yeah,” He grins dazedly, “You listen?”

“Sometimes!” You pick at a loose thread on your skirt, “I’m into a bit of everything. Really jus’ whatever comes on the radio.”

Eddie suddenly likes you more, if possible. Everything new that he learns about you only adds to the little list of Reasons he Cares, the first and most important being that you’re kind to him. He would never admit it, but he’s like a little lost puppy, trailing after the first person to scratch behind his ears.

“I like your van.” You muse, and it’s so genuinely sweet it nearly makes Eddie scream. You brush your fingers over a Black Sabbath sticker that’s peeling off of the dash, reaffixing the dusty backing to the smooth plastic. It doesn’t stay, it pops right back up again, but you’re onto the next detail now, a pair of old sneakers in the door, autographed by the patrons that watch him perform with his band.

“These are cool,” You marvel at the sloppy, mostly-drunken signatures scrawled over the canvas, “Who are they?”

“Our fans,” Eddie boasts proudly, even though he’s sure seven hammered 40 year olds aren’t the most impressive thing in the world when it comes to an audience, “They watch us perform, remember my band I told you about?”

Eddie watches your eyes light up from the rear-view mirror, but you’re lucky he doesn’t take his eyes off the road completely to see them unfiltered.

“That’s right!” You remember your earlier conversation, “That’s so cool, Eddie, you’ve got fans!”

“We do,” He chuckles, fingers sweating against the steering wheel as you near his trailer, “You should come to one of our shows sometime.”

“If I do, do I get to sign the sneakers?” You’re far too excited to put your name on a pair of ratty old shoes, repurposed as a trophy, but Eddie would be willing to buy a new pair just so that your name can be the only one on the fabric. He thinks about that, about having your name displayed over him, and blushes. He hopes you don’t catch it.

“Of course you can,” Eddie promises, turning much more carefully than he normally does into his typical parking spot, the van sputtering to a stop when he removes the key. He turns to you before you open the door, “How about this saturday?”

“Next,” You compromise, “My parents get back Saturday night and I can’t be out without them knowing.”

“Your parents are gone?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, crimped hair bouncing as he does.

“They’re getting the last of our stuff from our old house,” You nod solemnly, “We don’t even have mattresses here yet.”

“No shit? What have you been sleeping on?” 

“The couch,” You recount sadly, “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”

“Damn,” Eddie sympathizes, yanking on the latch of his door and hopping down, “Well, babe, I’ve got a mattress inside, if you’re interested in staying the night.”

It’s bold, brazen, uncouth, but he tops it off with a teasing grin, so it’s okay. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, happy that it mostly filled the empty van as he slams his door, rounding the front to open your own for you.

“Very gentlemanly,” You praise him, slipping your hand into his to step down from the lifted van, “I’m impressed.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” He teases, squeezing you against his side with a hand that drifts suspiciously low, “I’m not usually this nice.”

“I must be special.” You concur, giddiness in your grin that sends Eddie’s stomach into a cartwheel. 

You are, Eddie nods once at you, afraid to voice his thoughts in case they somehow ruin the unspoken adoration between you, More than you know.

Eddie’s pleased to find nothing but a slight oil stain in Wayne’s usual parking spot, his uncle having predicted that Eddie would want alone time with you. He’s half expecting to find a box of condoms on the kitchen counter when he walks in with you, but flicking on the light of the trailer reveals only a spotless living space, junk shoved in drawers to be dealt with later.

“I like it.” You decide with a curt nod, eyes landing on the array of DnD paraphernalia stacked on the couch, “Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you this.”

You reach into the waistband of your skirt, the slim paperback book you were reading earlier neatly molded to your side. It doesn’t retain the curve of your side, flattening back out into its shape as you hold it out to Eddie.

You swear you catch his eyes wandering towards the spot that you’d just pulled the book from, but they snap up to meet your own before you can verify it. He takes the book from you with an eager grin, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Y’wanna swap?” You stride over to the couch, plucking a book titled Players Handbook: Compiled Information for Players and Dungeon Masters out of the pile.

Eddie falters slightly, surprised that you’re so eager to get into what might be the least exciting part of learning DnD: the rules. 

“Sure,” He nods carefully, taken aback, “Lemme just clear the couch.”

He bends over to do so, and you can’t help that your eyes trace the newly-exposed skin of his chest. The shirt he’s wearing already reveals his side, but as his arms stretch to grab boxes and papers off of the cushions in front of you, it shifts to show his stomach.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he stops in front of you, an eyebrow raised that you don’t catch because you’re ogling him.

“Everything okay?” To your horror, there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice, and you’re certain he’s caught you.

“Yes!” You scramble to act casual, thumbing past the cover of the book to appear busy, “Yes, let’s get started.”

Eddie sits before you do, surveying you with that same cocky gaze. It makes you nervous, your stomach churning slightly, and you perch on the end of the couch that he’s not spread out over.

He lets out a scoff, reaching out, “You can get comfortable, Y/N, I don’t bite.”

He does, however, grab, which you find out when he yanks your legs out from under you, tugging them outwards so that they rest over his lap. He’s reclined against both the arm of the couch and the back cushion of it, looking far too composed for the rampage of butterflies against his stomach.

You melt into your new position so naturally that it scares you. It feels right, cracking the spine of the handbook while your legs are draped casually over Eddie’s lap. Stretching out and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch seems just as casual as it does on your couch, and you can’t help the dizzy grin that spreads over your face as you realize this.

“Somethin’ funny?” Eddie’s brow quirks at your expression, and you bury it behind the book, shaking your head.

“Right,” He sets a hand over your ankles, locking your legs into their position on his lap, “Lemme know if you’re confused, babe, I’m here to help.”

--

Though the DnD handbook is informative, and slightly exhilarating to peruse, you hope that the actual gameplay is less complicated than it sounds. You’re barely twenty pages in, a good 40 minutes gone by, and you’re not sure you can keep all of the information straight in your head. Hopefully Eddie cuts you some slack, or else you might seriously slow down their game.

"Page?" Eddie glances up from the pages of your novel, peering over at the handbook in your grip.

You look to the corner of the page from where you'd been reading up on character classes, "23."

"The Fighter." He speaks in a low voice, raspy and dramatic. You giggle, half amused by his theatrics and half impressed that he's managed to memorize the 130-page handbook in front of you.

"What about you?" You glance pointedly at the book in his hands, shifting your feet in his lap slightly. You don't realize it, but they press against a rather sensitive spot, and Eddie hunches slightly, his stomach caving in as he tries remaining composed.

"Uh," His eyes frantically skim the page, wide and panicked until they lock on a familiar name, "Weylin- Weylin is just, uh, crossing over the Bridge of Lost Souls."

"Ooh," You wriggle slightly in your place on the couch, consequently burrowing your feet further into Eddie's lap, "I love that part! You meet Ionia soon, you'll love her!"

He can’t take it anymore.

“Uh,” He shoots off of the couch, lowering your feet carefully back down to the cushions where he was sitting, “I’m getting kinda hungry. Pizza time?”

“Pizza time.” You nod jovially, flipping a page in the handbook, seemingly unconscious of Eddie’s predicament, “Pepperoni?”

“And sausage.” Eddie nods, “Be right back.”

When he comes back, tugging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to use for the food and pointedly avoiding his uncle’s money, you tuck your legs up under you to set him sit down. He peers over the top of the handbook, eyes drifting to the words appearing upside-down in front of his face.

His nose hooks over the tops of the pages, and you can’t help it: you giggle. He glances up amusedly at you, his own sweet laugh filling the air as he crumples into your lap. You raise the book over your head so that he doesn’t have to slip under it, and his eyes meet yours from where he lays on your legs.

You stare down at him, entranced by his features. His soft cheeks, his sloped nose, the tinge of red that spreads over his skin. His eyes, shiny and smooth, like melted chocolate that you can taste on your tongue. You brush a hand over his forehead, gathering up loose flyaway hairs that have gathered there. They’re malleable and wiry in your grip, and you twirl them around your finger once, twice, thrice, until they form a spiraled curl.

His eyes follow your finger, doe-like as they cross to track your movement. When you let the hair go it springs off of your finger, bouncing down to rest over his nose, and his eyes dart inwards to follow it.

Apparently it tickles his nose, because he scrunches it up, miniscule wrinkles etched like waterways on a map into his skin. You smooth the terrain, running the soft pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose and marveling how his face relaxes as your touch waves over it.

He shivers slightly under your finger, and you notice a bridge of freckles, the lightest you’ve ever seen, dotting his nose. They stand strong over all of the rivers you have yet to flatten, stretching down towards his mouth in beautiful smile lines.

“You’re pretty.” You muse, your voice barely more than a whisper as you trace his features. He lets his eyes flutter shut when your fingers brush under them, his lashes tickling your skin. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He coos, the softness of his voice gaping that growing sinkhole of adoration that’s been tugging at your chest ever since you met him. His pretty face, his sweet words, his kind actions, all of them mark him as safe, as good, as loveable.

With his eyes closed, you’re allowed to be as obvious as you want when ogling him, not that you were very subtle before. Your eyes latch onto his lips in a similar fashion as you want your own to do, roving over every crease, mark, and indent in the soft, pillowy muscles. 

Before you can think about it, you touch them. Your fingers, their pads soft and hesitant, prod gently at his lips. That has his eyes shooting open, carmeled brown irises meeting yours in shock. 

Though you feel his gaze on you, you don’t stop. You let your hands linger on his face, soaking up every second of dazzlingly intimate contact you can get with the man. He studies your face while you study his, the both of you barely breathing while watching the other sit pretty. You swear you feel Eddie’s lips shift under your fingers, puckering ever-so-slightly to kiss the tips of your fingers, but then-

The hollow, sharp knock on the door of Eddie’s trailer shatters the intimacy of the moment, plunging you back into reality from the serene haze you’d been trapped in. You both fall from the clouds you’d lounged atop, plummeting back to earth with the thump of your hearts in your chests.

“I’ll get it,” Eddie scrambles up from where he’s draped over your lap, rushing to the door and snatching the cash off of the counter. You straighten yourself out while he grabs the pizza, cheeks aflame as you look around the room to avoid looking at him. You see a stack of vhs movies in the corner by the television set, and your eyes catch a familiar title. 

Labyrinth.

“Okay,” Eddie sets the pizza on the counter, grateful for the paper plates the place provided you, “One slice or two?”

“Two,” You grin eagerly, reaching for the tape, “Are you the reason this was missing from the video store yesterday?”

He laughs at the sight of the VHS in your hands, “Yep, ‘had it since it came out.”

“Rude,” You scoff, “I wanted to watch it last night!”

“Bummer,” Eddie scrunches his brows, faux-sympathy written on his face, “‘Guess you’ll just have to come over whenever you wanna watch it.”

“Well I’m here now…” You push, clutching the case hopefully.

“Pop it in,” Eddie laughs, gesturing towards the machine, “‘Should be rewound already.”

You kneel by the VHS player while Eddie brings your plates over, and your back faces him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to ogle you, only feeling slightly guilty when his eyes trace the curve of your ass.

You turn before he can admire how the Hellfire shirt exposes the angles of your shoulders, abandoning its post and leaving your neck bare. He watches the skin there shift, muscles beneath the surface tensing as you crane it downwards to slide the tape into the receiver.

“We’ll work more on DnD later,” Eddie promises as the main titles roll, music filling the otherwise silent trailer, “We’ve still gotta get a character figured out for you.”

“‘M excited,” You speak through a mouthful of greasy pizza, pepperoni sticking to your lip, “Thanks for the pizza, Eddie.”

“‘Course sweetheart,” He grins at you, then hides his blush in the red tomato sauce on his bread.

Eddie truly believes that you’ll go over more later for the game. But when you finish both slices of your pizza, hands covering your stomach tenderly as he’s sure it’s stuffed, and curl up against the arm of the couch, he knows nothing else is getting done tonight. Your eyes are glued to the screen, Sarah’s dress glittering as her hair flounces with every movement of the couple. He’s never been a Bowie fan, but he reckons you are by the way your eyes shine whenever he’s on screen.

He’s jealous of David Bowie.

Oh, fuck, he never thought he’d sink this low. But he feels something unfamiliar and sharp prod at his chest whenever you pay just a little too much attention to the man on screen, and he prods at your feet with his own.

“Hoggin’ the couch,” He chides you, with no real scorn as he tangles his legs with yours, “Stretched out like you own the place.”

“Sor-ry,” You huff dramatically, clocking his teasing grin and knowing he’s just messing around, “It’s not my fault your couch is comfier than mine.”

Eddie remembers your admission, that you’ve been sleeping on your couch for god-knows-how-long, and his stomach sours. He studies your face, the way that your eyelids droop even though you’re clearly enjoying the movie, the wrinkling of your chin as you yawn. You’re clearly exhausted, and his space is the comfort you need.

He feels something akin to pride at that. You not only feel comfortable enough around him to curl up on his couch, but you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He might be new at this, the whole relationship thing, but he knows that’s big.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel such a large blade of jealousy stabbing at his heart anymore, because you’re not cuddled up to David Bowie on David Bowie’s couch, are you? No. You’re curled up with him, on his couch.

Take that, Bowie.

--

It’s around the one-and-a-half hour mark, only ten minutes before the movie ends, that he realizes he’s the only one watching. He’s been glancing back and forth between the screen and you for ages now, but when he checks up on you this time, you’re asleep. He can see your chest rising and falling, his shirt still worn proudly over your frame, and a sleepy smile curves over his face. Your lashes kiss your cheeks, casting shadows down your face that look like spiderwebs. It looks cool, and he makes a mental note to ask you if you’d let him put eyeliner on you to see if he can turn it into a spiderweb. It’s a design he’s been meaning to do on himself, but if he needs a model, why would you turn him down?

The end of the movie isn’t so entrancing to him anymore now that you’re snoozing, and once more he lets his eyes drift over your frame. Your skirt is tucked neatly under your bum, but your thighs peek out of it, soft and plumped by the way you’re laying. Then his eyes rove over your shirt, the familiar, hand-crafted design looking better on you than it ever has on him or his friends. It’s odd, seeing the shirt on anyone but the boys in his friend group, but he quickly decides that it’s his favorite outfit of yours, and that nothing in the world could top it.

The end credits announce themselves in an encore of the film’s soundtrack, and Eddie reluctantly parts from the cozy embrace you’ve found yourself in. He ejects the tape, stuffing it back into its case and tucking it carefully back onto the stack. Now that he knows it’s his ticket to time spent with you, he’s much more reluctant to take it back to Family Video tomorrow like he’d planned. Maybe he’ll keep it, late fee be damned.

“Y/N,” He hates the thought of waking you, but he hates the thought of inconveniencing his uncle even more, and you’re curled up on what will become Wayne’s pull-out.

“Y/N,” He tries again, soft and soothing as he taps your shoulder gently, “Wake up, we’ve gotta get you home.”

The clock only reads 10:23, but he’d feel guilty getting you home at an indecent hour. Typically, Eddie’s philosophy is etiquette be damned, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about being dumped on your front porch after two in the morning.

“Y/N,” He slips a hand under your torso, his other sliding under your legs, “C’mon, wake up.”

You don’t. You must have really had trouble sleeping on your couch, because now that you’re dozing off, you don’t seem to wake up easily. Worry gnaws at Eddie’s chest as he hoists you into his arms and you don’t wake, only sighing contentedly and curling closer to him.

His eyes widen and his cheeks burn as you snuggle up to him unconsciously, your cheek pressed against his KISS-clad chest. Your nose nudges into his neck and he swears he sees stars, his knees weakening at the intimate contact like you hadn’t just been touching his lips hours beforehand.

“‘Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, voice devoid of any real anger as he trudges down the hall to his room. His bed is neatly made, pillows stacked at the head that he reaches up and kicks down with one of his socked feet. It flops flat onto the mattress with a thump, and Eddie lowers you as carefully as humanly possible onto the bed. You aren’t too keen to let go, though, because your arms stay tightly wound around his neck. He tries straightening but you come right back up with him, brows scrunching in displeasure at being jostled around. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, lovestruck, “‘Gotta let go.”

“Eddie,” You mumble hazily, sound far too much like a lover he’s just accidentally jostled by getting out of bed to get ready for work in the morning, “Don’ go.”

“I can’t leave you here,” He reasons, returning your favor and smoothing out the wrinkle in your brows with his thumb, “I’ve gotta grab my keys and shoes, then we’ll take you home.”

“Nooo,” You whine, sleep tugging at your voice, “‘S too cozy here. I don’t wanna leave.”

“But no one knows you’re staying here,” Eddie’s afraid that your parents might come home early, discover their child missing, and storm his trailer with pitchforks, “Don’t you wanna head back home to your own bed?”

"Couch.” You mumble grouchily, “My parents aren't home," Your voice is groggy and weak, but Eddie swears it's more angelic than any hymn he's ever heard, "'S okay."

"Are you sure?" He reaches up, smooths a hand over your forehead then down your cheek without thinking, but before he can panic over the intimate gesture you're leaning into it, letting out a contented hum that quite reminds him of a kitten's purr.

"'M sure," You promise, already curling up cozily beneath his blanket, looking far too natural and perfect in a space you'd never occupied before, and Eddie feared, never would again.

"Okay." He's breathless and weak as your eyes drift shut, his hand lingering against the curve of your face, "G'night sweetheart."

He isn’t sure what to do from there. He could move his hand, he probably should move his hand, so that he doesn’t stand there for hours holding you, but that seems all the more tempting with every passing second. He marvels at his luck, how he’s managed to get to heaven without dying. Unless he is dead. But he’s almost certain he’ll be sent to hell for the sheer amount of drugs he’s sold to high school students, so he’s sure it isn’t that. 

You must be an angel, he decides, one that isn’t afraid of the devil everyone says he is. He gets a brief vision of matching halloween costumes to that effect, a wiry halo perched on your head while devil ears adorn his. The scene’s unfiltered domesticity stuns him, along with how perfect it feels. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced, instead like something you’d come up with on the phone at ungodly hours and commit to months before the holiday.

He’ll bring the idea up to you tomorrow.

For now, he has to figure out where he’s sleeping. He’s not taking Wayne’s bed, but you’re in his, and that would be wrong.

Right?

Eddie studies the way your body is laid out on his mattress, knees tucked towards your chest and arms bundled up below your face, clutching the blanket he’d thrown over you. You take up a fraction of the mattress, the side that he normally sleeps on still unobscured.

Would it really be that bad if he laid opposite you? He wouldn’t touch you, he wouldn’t throw an arm over your waist, he wouldn’t tangle his legs with yours, he wouldn’t press a soft kiss to your forehead before drifting off. He wouldn’t.

He wants to, though.

He gives into another temptation, hopefully his last for the night, and lets himself indulge in your presence. He slides onto the end of the mattress, careful not to disrupt you as you slumber. 

It feels weird, having someone in his bed beside him. Weird, but good. He decides, in fact, that there’s no better feeling aside from your fingers on his lips, than you in bed beside him. He stares up at the ceiling, willing the urge to kiss your nose away before he can screw up the best thing that’s happened to him in years. 

One single, cautious glance thrown your way, and it’s all over.

Your hand is bared towards him, the smooth skin on the back of it in perfect kissing-range. He would be an idiot not to, right? That’s what gentlemen do, after all, they kiss the back of their lady’s hand. Typically not without her knowledge, or while she’s in bed with him, but it’s the principle of it, not the specific scenario. 

He reaches for your hand hesitantly, and once his skin brushes yours he sees fireworks that light up the dark room. They nearly short out his vision, and when he sees clearly again, your hand is poised directly in front of his lips, his own hand still clutching it securely.

“Sleep good, sweetheart.” He whispers, near-inaudible in the darkness, then his lips press delicately against your hand. 

Such unimaginable warmth and giddiness fill his chest, that he’s sure he’ll explode. There’s going to be Eddie Guts on the walls and ceiling, rotted sickly sweet from how infatuated with you he’s become in such a short time. Kissing you, albeit only your hand, feels like something he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he can only hope you’re gracious enough to grant him that privilege.

That’s a discussion for the morning, though, or never, Eddie reminds himself. He’s just kissed your hand in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping like a creep, he might not be too eager to admit that to you in the morning in a desperate plea to do it again. He refrains from peppering the rest of your skin in adoring kisses, but keeps your hand clutched in his own, marveling at the way that you can warm him up completely from a single touch. 

It must be an angel thing, he decides, as he drifts off into a happy slumber, tomorrow he’ll ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

[msgexymunson]

Just imagine Eddie coming out of your bathroom, freshly showered, wrapped up in a robe, swinging around the end of the belt, ready to give you the sexy striptease of your dreams.

Except for when he connects his phone to the speaker, it doesn’t play the song he thought he had queued up—it starts blasting Baby Shark.

At full volume.

“Sonofa—”

It’s so loud it scares him, making him throw his phone. And you’re just dying laughing on the bed, clutching at your stomach as it rolls out of you, tears spilling down your cheeks as he tries to shut if off but somehow only makes it play louder.

Finally, he shuts it off, but his cheeks are scarlet and his eyes downcast as you shuffle to the end of the bed and reach out for him.

“It’s okay,” you hum softly, “If anyone could make that song sexy, it’s you.”

(hope you feel better soon, bub ily)

OK so this is absolutely everything!! I couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for the well wishes, love you babe ❤️

Warnings: modern AU, NSFW, Minors DNI, established relationship, allusions to p in v sex.

Masterlist

The first time it's a mistake. A hilarious one, but still a mistake. The first time leads to silly sex; all giggles and firm kisses and jokes and mock threats.. and soft touches.

And then grasping hands, and needy fingers, and moans.

The second time, it's a prank. You've just come out of the shower, all pink and clean, in your robe and towel, swaying into the bedroom.

"Oh, am I getting a little show?" Eddie's eyebrows raise, as he settles into the pillows, shit eating grin smeared on his face.

"Maybe... shall I set the mood?" You ask suggestively, flashing a bit of leg.

"Woah, a proper show? Go ahead, princess."

His hands reach behind his head, laying back like a king in his marital bed. You playfully smirk and turn on your little speaker, hearing the tell tale blip of the Bluetooth connecting. Slipping your hand in your pocket, you take out your cellphone, and press play.

"Baby shark do do-"

"Oh you goddamn evil-"

You laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more. Eddie's frowning, arms crossed firmly against his chest, neck and cheeks scarlet from the embarrassing memory.

The music is still playing, so you giggle and seductively drop your robe, fingers toying with the top of your towel.

"Come on baby, I thought you were into this."

He huffs, clearly torn between being angry at you and getting an eyeful. All resolve disintegrates when you drop the towel, running gentle hands over the top of your breasts. His eyes bug out when one hand drifts lower, toying with the tuft of hair on your mound.

"Stop it, I can't be mad when you-"

"When I what?" You ask, smirking, and start crawling toward him over the mattress, silky hands running up his shins, up his tensing thighs. Fingers snake under his boxers, teasing at the skin just shy of where he needs you. Tensing muscles, he grabs your hand before you can go further.

"Fine, you're forgiven just- fuck- turn that song off."

The third time, it was an in joke. Oven mitts on, you check on the casserole you've made, humming to yourself. Another 20 minutes you think, give or take.

Large hands grasp at your hips from behind, pulling your top up slightly to massage at your skin.

"You asking for it? That why you're humming that?"

"Huh?" You ask, entirely confused, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

"You were humming 'baby shark', thought you might want some lovin," Eddie breathes into your neck.

Laughing, you turn to face him.

"Was I? And whats that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"Yep," he replies, knuckles dragging over your cheek, "thought that was our song. You want Daddy Shark to take care of you?"

Rolling your eyes, you bat at his chest in a vain attempt to push him away. "Our song? Fuck I hope we don't have to play it at our wedding."

He chuckles, dropping to his knees, busy fingers expertly undoing your jeans.

"Wedding? I'm just hoping you don't play it in the bedroom again."

All rational thought exits the building however, when he begins rubbing you just right.

"No, no, whatever you want, just keep doing that," you beg, hand winding into his soft locks to keep him there.

After that, you're not sure what it was. There was humor in it, sure, a hint of a past silly mistake, but it had warped over time. Now, it seemed like a hint, a wink, a promise of something to come.

It surfaced again at a gathering; the little gang were holed up at Steve's, watching some shitty rom com that had been voted as tonight's watch. Restlessly, you tap your fingers on your thighs, wound up to the point of breaking.

"Eddie," you whisper, chest swelling with need.

"Hmm?" He asks back, oblivious to your desires.

Opening your mouth to say something, you shut it, until the idea pops in your head and out of your mouth. Leaning in, your breath skates his ear.

"Baby shark, do do do do do do-"

"Oh, we need to go." Eddie calls out loudly to the troop, met with groans and head shakes from everyone.

"Seriously? Why?" Steve asks.

"It's an emergency, sorry guys."

He's on his feet, dragging you to the door. When you're halfway to his van, he whisper shouts at you. "That's a kids song. A kids song. It shouldn't make me halfway hard."

Laughing loudly, you snake your hand around his tight waist.

"Sorry baby, I needed my Daddy Shark."

Tag list

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader

[hitlikehammers]

If you’re in the mood for a snippet of PLATONIC STOBIN FEELS in a Steddie fic that’s a follow up to THIS, since my big bang documents aren’t loading right to post THOSE promos right now?

Enjoy.

~~~

Robin’s face is raw, as in she thinks she’ll split open the skin if she wipes the tears that don’t stop one more time but she can’t even care, she’s already sliced open and spilling out from the heart of her because, because…

Steve’s not waking up.

Steve’s not waking <I>up</I>, and it’s their <i>fault</I>.

Because whether they didn’t convince him he was loved, <I>loved</I>, so goddamn much it was almost unimaginable except there he was, Steve Harrington, real and tangible and kind and bitchy and soft and fierce and the perfect fit to her whole soul, like soul were puzzle pieces and she’d always just figured that was how they were unique but no, nope: sometimes you got to find a soul-piece floating out in the world in the most unexpected places and they snapped right into the odd little gives and grooves of yours and made you something new for it—something better.

When was the last time she told Steve she loved him?

Her breath catches: they’d all decided <I>speaking</I> anything was too much of a risk once Eleven told them Vecna was twisting their words, and in the imposed-but-so-<I>imposing</I> silence everyone else had lost the fight against sleep alongside Eddie’s vigil of constant song because that’s their best play, now: keep him.

They’d been told to keep hold of Steve, keep him safe while El dealt with Henry and Eddie’d scuffed his sneakers on the tile when he ran back in with a beat up acoustic with a couple of little pock-marks visible if you looked really close—<I>hard to keep her pristine when she lives next to a fuckin’ nail bat in the trunk</I> he’d explained breathlessly before rounding his chair and strumming before he even hit the seat—but Robin wasn’t looking really close. All that Robin, in all honesty, really wants to do is curl up so close to Steve that she melts into him, that he puzzle piece ceases to have any little crease, any outline that differentiates her self from all of him, because she wants…she <I>needs</I> to stand and fall and live and die with him; thinks she will regardless, so. Might as well make it as much of a physical truth as it is in every other way.

Is that enough? Will that be <I>enough</I>?

Robin’s breath hitches again and she pushes her cheek harder into the top-thin hospital mattress—how can people even hope to heal, when they’re laid out on these mortar boards?—and she can hear the beeping of the monitor behind her, proof of life in the body, the <I>person</I> next to her, so why did she feel Ike <I>her</I> heart stopped in between every beep, because that heart was <I>her heart too</I>, so much.

<I>So much</I>.

She’s reciting to herself, silent but her lips moving the words against the sheets—<I>if his heart’s beating so is yours, if <u>his heart is still beating so is yours </u></I>—and she smashes her lips closed when thoughts like <I>what if it stops what if it stops what if it <I>stops</u></I>—

No. No, none of that, smother that: no.

<I>No</I>.

She pinches herself hard enough to bruise and focuses on what she can know for sure. Steve’s heartbeat on the screen. Steve’s chest rising and falling, even if it seems kinda faint: there. Real.

And the music. Endless music, as Eddie plucks but never seems to look down, to watch his hands and watches only Steve instead just as endless, and Robin knows a fraction of the songs because he was aiming for the unfamiliar, he said, and words that either couldn’t be skewed by demonic psychopaths in a nether-realm, or just flat out couldn’t be picked out easily at all.

But while he played even the most metal of the metal tracks, he’d played them soft by comparison to what Robin knows they’d originated as? The way he’s playing now is different. Almost…

Almost <I>tender</I>. And the song, she thinks she—

“What are you playing?”

#platonic soulmates stobin #steddie #shit i write #steve got vecna’d in the last part #what of it?

[intergalacticaquarium]

Part 6-Alone Here Together

Eddie Munson x soon-to-be-step!Henderson! female original character

Summary: Samantha stayed at Rick's cabin with Eddie, shenanigans and heartfelt nervous breakdowns ensue. Steve and Dustin have a heart to heart. (reading the past parts would probably be good but u can probably get what's going on from context)

3.1 k

(Series masterpost/chapter links here!)

-----

Eventually Dustin, Steve, Max, and Robin made their way out, leaving Samantha and Eddie alone in the secluded lakehouse, but neither of of were the type to admire the scenery. Within moments she was rustling through her bag for her stash, and when Eddie saw her pulling out the familiar tin box he groaned in relief.

    “Thank fuck your holding, Campbell. You didn’t leave me with much last night.” He said, waiting for her to take her turn on the one hitter and pack him one.

    “Sorry, I didn't know I needed to prepare a go bag. And did you check around this house? If there’s anywhere in Hawkins that would have a removable floorboard it would be Reefer Rick’s house.” She said in a joking manner, passing him the bat and seeing him light it shakily, clearly not in the mood for any kind of banter.

    “It’s gonna be okay, Eddie.” She said calmly, and he looked at her with more disbelief than when they had alternate dimensions explained to them a few minutes ago.

    “Is it? Because I’m wanted for murder that was commited by an evil wizard that I thought I made up-” He paused, beginning to spiral “-did Dustin just name it that or is it actually a wizard? And apparently I’m being hunted by the basketball team now? What the fuck? What part of any of that makes you think that this was going to end well?” he said hysterically, waving his hands. 

    “Okay- yeah- shit’s weird, but apparently Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler have been doing it for years so it can’t be that hard!’ she said encouragingly, but he only looked at her like she was speaking nonsense.

    “Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler don’t spend all their time on the couch smoking weed watching horror movies! Do you think that either of us still has the fucking lung capacity to run away from real monsters? I don’t!”  He said, pacing wildly, lighting the bat again and gesturing to the dugout, digging the little metal tube in to pack the end of it. “Campbell, you gotta have something that can hold more than this this fuckin sucks.”

    “My pipes are in the van.” she said sadly.

    “You lost the damn van? That’s the most helpful thing you bring to the table!” He said, exasperated, his limbs going every which way.

    “Wow. Rude.” She said, eyebrows shooting up, and he paused. 

    “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that the van is very very helpful. It has everything in there. Every time I’ve ever mentioned something being useful you’re like ‘hold on let me get it out of my van’. How does everything even fit in there? It’s like a goddamn bag of holding!” he said, running out of breath, unable to stop talking. His thoughts were clearly scattered and overwhelming him and Sam stood up, grabbing his shoulders to stop the pacing.

    “Eddie, you need to calm down. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, you don’t need to also worry about all my possessions being left in an unlocked van with Jason and his handsy buddy.” She scolded, the sentence making her wonder why she wasn’t more worried. That seemed to break Eddie out of his panic for a moment. 

    “Handsy?” He asked, suddenly looking more worried and angry than before, and she rolled her eyes.

    “Alright, I  don’t need that macho protective man thing. It’s bad enough that Steve’s macho protective man instinct is what got me out of the situation. Getting saved by him felt, like, unfeminist or something.” She complained, but that wasn’t enough to keep Eddie from worrying.

    “Saved you from what, though?” He asked, still nervous.

    “Nothing, I mean, not nothing- I’m fine. They just boxed me in against the van and then grabbed me and, kinda…picked me up when I tried to run away.” She said, and saw Eddie clench and unclench his fist. “Okay, yeah, it was super scary and definitely wasn’t going to end well but I’m fine.”

    “I don’t think I can take Jason in a fight but I’m gonna try and fuck him up next time I see him. That’s so fucked up- that they’d fucking attack you like that just because you know me.” He said, his energy ramping up again, but she held onto him firmly to keep him from starting to pace again.

    “I can handle myself, and Steve was there-” she tried, but he shook his head in annoyance.

    “That doesn’t mean I have to like being the one that put you in danger in the first place.” He shouted, and closed his mouth quickly, all of a sudden remembering that he was in hiding.

    “It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill Chrissy.” She said with as much comfort as she could. She wasn’t used to this. Comforting people. Other people’s feelings had never come naturally to her. She had always told herself that it was because she didn’t care, but now she did. She desperately cared, and she hated that she couldn’t show him that. 

    “I know that- but why are you so sure? I mean- I didn’t see any monsters. I could still be lying as far as you know.” He said, clearly unsure what he was even saying but getting more agitated by the moment anyway.

    Sam bit her lip and swayed back and forth for a moment, thinking. 

“Y’know, I want to say it’s because I know you pretty well at this point, that you’re actually really gentle despite appearances, that you always can tell that I’m having a bad day and make it a personal goal to cheer me up, that you’re just about the only friend I’ve got and even when I stopped trying you never did, and that I know in my heart that you would never hurt a fly.” She said, and he cocked his head. “All those things are true, but I feel like every time somebody gets murdered there’s some schmuck saying that Ted Bundy was actually really nice when he wasn’t killing people so maybe that’s not enough.” She said, and walked up to him so he would look at her.

    “I don’t think you did this, Eddie Munson,” She said, looking into his eyes. “because from the bottom of my heart, I don’t believe that you’re strong enough to break every bone in a person's body in the ten minutes between taking Chrissy into your place and you running out of it.” She said, and his mouth dropped open in surprise and incredibly guilty amusement.  

“You don’t have the upper arm strength or the lung capacity, I’m 100% sure of it.” She said so matter of factly that he couldn’t stop himself from laughing, and she joined in, appropriately ashamed, they stopped laughing with effort, but the moment they made eye contact it came involuntarily spilling back out, despite how they fought the giggles, they were winning. 

 “I mean the fact that the Hawkins police took a look at your skinny ass and said yeah that’s our guy is insane.” She said, losing herself in the laughter that was going between them. It was nothing less than hysterical,  letting out the immeasurable stress that had built up in the last 24 hours. It wasn’t contagious laughter, an onlooking person might see it and would know that they were in the middle of a crisis, but they still couldn’t stop. 

“I get bullied in gym class for six fuckin years by Jason and even that wasn’t enough to convince him I couldn’t do it.” He said, leaning against the wall laughing and sliding to the floor where she quickly joined them.

“I once saw you get tired trying to open a damn jar of peanut butter” she said, still out of breath, until their ribs hurt and they had run out of breath and the present had come back to them all at once.    

“Shit, what am I gonna fuckin do, Sam? Like, even if they find this Vecna…guy? Creature? Whatever it is that still doesn’t help me. You can’t bring a real monster to the Hawkins PD and say ‘arrest him, Sir!’”

    “Even if they tried it would probably just…kill them. Because it’s a monster?” She said with another hit off the bat, and he sighed in agreement.

    “I was about to say I’d be losing my damn mind if you hadn’t stayed, but I think that’s happening anyway.” He said, running his fingers through his hair and staring at her. “But I’m really glad that I didn’t get left here alone, and that…you were the one that stayed.”

    “I know, that’s why I’m here.” She said cooly and looked him in the eye, leaning their heads against the walls and smiling at each other. “That way we can go insane together. I’ve been practicing for a while so I can give you tips.”

    Eddie smiled a little bit and fidgeted, having calmed down now but still having the energy built up, and Sam frowned at the sound it made when he tapped his hands on the floor they sat on.

    “Eddie, move over.” She said, and he scooted away from the floor tile that she then grabbed at the edges and pulled up, revealing a cache of whatever they needed to make this stay more bearable. Besides each other, Sam mused, before immediately getting embarrassed and shaking the thought away. 

---

    Back in Hawkins, Dustin and Steve sat in his car talking. 

"Your face is so red dude. You haven't hit it off with any other girls, and since you steadfastly refuse to date Robin for some reason it's the only explanation."

"There are other explanations."

"Like what? Do you like somebody else? I can totally be your wingman if you need one." Prodded Dustin, and Steve rubbed his eyes. 

"Don't need a wingman but thanks, I guess. I got plenty of charm. I just haven't met the right girl yet." 

"Then maybe talk to different kinds of girls. What about Sam?" Dustin suggested, and Steve looked at him a little scandalized and sorta flattered. 

"You really want me to date your sister, Henderson?" 

"She's not really my sister. I just mean maybe you should try somebody that's doing a sort of punk thing- I don't know!"

Steve couldn't help but laugh. "Didn't know I'd grown on you so much that you want me to join the family." 

"Again, she's not my sister. Maybe you'd make her nicer."

Steve was flattered but still giving Dustin shit. 

"That's sweet, kid- but if you were gonna make this suggestion you probably should've done it before you set your sister up in an empty secluded house with her stoner buddy with the puppy eyes." 

"Puppy eyes?" Dustin questioned, and Steve shrugged his shoulders, and he rolled past it. "They're just friends right? Thats gross, Sam and Eddie wouldn’t- I mean-" Dustin floundered with a grossed out look, and Steve raised an eyebrow, counting down until he figured it out.

“They would. They totally would. Gross.” He complained. 

"Well looks like your new buddy is gonna be hangin around a lot more." Steve consoled and patted Dustin on the shoulder.

"That would require Samantha to ever be at my house in the first place." Dustin countered.

"She doesn't, like, live with you?"

"Nah man she lives in the van."

    “Seriously? That’s kinda fucked up isn’t she like, nineteen?” Steve said, and Dustin shrugged.

    “My mom cleaned out her whole office for her and it’s just sitting here. I had to move my av shit into my room, it takes up so much space and she’s only slept there, like, once.” Dustin complained. “She pretty much wants nothing to do with us.”

    Steve leaned back a little sadly, noticing the little bit of sadness in Dustin’s voice.

    “Look, man, I’m sure it’s not about you.” He tried to say comfortingly. “Is that why you wanted to set me up with her? So she’d come around more? Because-”

    “What? No? I don’t care that she’s not around because I don’t even know her. I’m an only child, I like it that way. I’m just lookin out for you, man, don’t read too much into it.”

    Before Steve could respond there was a crackle of static from the walkie talkie in the back seat, and Dustin grabbed it.

    “Hellooooo?” Came a sing-songy voice that was broken up by laughter.

    “Sam? You need to say over when you’re done talking.” Dustin scolded.

    “Over.” Sam said, snorting a giggle again.

    “You guys alright?” Steve asked, taking the radio from Dustin.

    “Uh, yeah, pfft-” her words were broken up by background noise. “Eddie shut up-yeah I’ll ask- can you bring us some food soon? And also some beers. And also some more weed. And also some movies. And also my van.” She said, and they heard more laughter behind her, making Dustin roll his eyes.

    “You guys think it’s a good time to be doin that stuff? Like, aside from the danger it’s 2 in the afternoon.” Steve asked.

    “Ask him to get some kfc-” “Can you get us some kfc?” Eddie started and Sam finished.

    “At least they’re done freaking out.” Steve mused.

    “I guess, but now they’re useless.” Dustin said, frowning.

    “Hey! Over.” Said the radio, and Dustin glared at Steve, who realized he was still holding down the button. 

    “We’ll bring you supplies as soon as we can but right now you guys should probably sober up, things are getting way worse for Eddie here in Hawkins. Over.” Dustin said.

    “It’s medicinal. We’re very anxious.” Sam said as seriously as she could manage. “Over” she quickly added. 

    “Anxiety’s not so bad when you're in mortal danger. Keeps the motivation up. Over.” 

    “Boo. Fine. Just bring me my van bye! Eddie, stop it oh my god!” Was how she ended the conversation, their giggles filling up the radio before cutting out.

    Both of them were silent for a moment, processing.

    “Maybe we should’ve left somebody else.” Dustin said cautiously, and Steve nodded

    “Over- HA! Eddie, shut up!” The radio interrupted one more time, and the two boys sighed in defeat.

    “Drink a cup of coffee, you two!” Steve shouted into the radio, and leaned back, glancing at Dustin. 

    “Maybe you should be my wingman- seems like you’re a half-decent matchmaker.” Steve said, and Dustin groaned in annoyance.

---

    Eddie and Sam frowned at the radio between them between their giggles. He sat up against the cupboards bouncing a ball and she lay on the ground with her legs pointed upward, leaning against the cabinets.

    “We should probably listen to Steve.” Sam said with a sigh, and Eddie screwed up his face.

    “I don’t wanna listen to Steve. Since when do you roll with Steve Harrington anyway?”

    “Since, like, this afternoon. But Dustin trusts him, so I guess that’s enough for me.”

    Eddie groaned exaggeratedly. “God, I know that Dustin trusts him, he never shuts up about him.” he complained, and  Sam chuckled.

    “That’s funny, because now that he’s buddies with you he thinks he knows everything and it’s driving Steve insane.”

    “That’s good. I’m glad he’s weaponizing that hero worship in my favor. Kind of.” He said, bouncing a ball he had found across the floor. 

    “Am I sensing a personal grudge with ol’ Steve? Or is this just an anti establishment anti popularity thing?” She asked, and he chuckled.

    “You always go the poser route for those little jabs of yours and it always hurts.” He said, hand over heart.

    “Well, maybe you should’ve considered that before you told me how much you love it when people call you a freak.” she said affectionately. 

    “Badge of pride, baby.” He said proudly, putting out his arms. She kicked her legs on the counter to push herself away enough to sit up and look at him with a sneaky smile. 

    “Baby? Is that what we’re doing now?” She asked, and he leaned forward with a grin, trying to call his bluff.

    “You can call me baby any day of the week, Sam. You should’ve realized that by now.” He said with a laugh and a puff off the joint they just had rolled. Her face was a little stunned, like she wasn’t sure how to take what he had said. Normally, he’d have been nervous saying that to Sam. He had liked her for a while but knew that she didn’t have a lot of people around her and didn’t want to risk scaring her away, but after today he knew they’d be fine whether she felt the same or not.

    He leaned back and grinned at her stunned face, taking the joint and placing it between her slightly open lips until she inhaled, then took it back for himself. That snapped her out of it and she rolled her eyes predictably.

    “In your dreams, Munson.” She said with false bravado, leaning back onto her hands.

    “Oh yeah, on the regular.” he said quickly, and she shook her head, hating that he always had a better comeback if she didn’t have the opening to call him a sellout. 

    “You’re just stoned.” She said, laughing and glancing away.

    “I mean, I always am a little bit. So are you.” He said, and she laughed, still a bit confused.

    Her lack of reaction was enough to dampen his enthusiasm and he decided to backpedal.

    “Hey- just forget I said anything. You’re right, I’m baked.” He started, but frowned at the same time she did.  “I mean, what I said was true, literally last night I had a dream that we were lost in a maze  but actually it was the highschool? I think we ended up fighting something and then afterward it got- heh- uh, Whatever, I just- I know this is a weird situation. I don’t need to make it any weirder. We’re just hangin out, like normal.” He rambled to take the pressure off, and it worked, but as Sam thought about it, she thought that maybe she didn’t mind the pressure.

    Sam looked at him and tilted her head, all of a sudden wondering why she had never considered Eddie that way before, and when he looked at her again she realized that maybe she had actually thought about it a lot.

    “Eddie…” she said, playfully but serious enough that as she leaned closer he would know what to do.

    He leaned in as well, and glanced down at her lips. Just as they were about to connect they heard the crackle of the radio again, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at their continued interruptions with her head on his shoulder.

    “You two having that cup of coffee yet?” Steve’s voice came from the other end, followed by a very soft ‘you have to say over.’

    Sam just grinned and offered Eddie a hang up before he went to the radio and she went to the coffee maker.

tag list

@youngflower @nostandards94 @simonsbluee

@koroktsuya @kriffingstars

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing

[masquenoire]

“Dead?! What the fuck do you mean they’re dead?!?” Roman snarled, apoplectic with rage at the news he’d just received. The piles of paperwork littering his desk scattered like leaves in the wind as he slammed his fists down heavily upon solid wood, the gesture doing nothing to appease his foul mood and only fuelling it further when Horsehead’s suspicions had been proven true. Business on the streets had been sinking like a corpse in Gotham Bay for some weeks now. Naturally there were slow periods from time to time, so Roman hadn’t been overly concerned after the first week but then profits only continued to decline, with today turning up less than a few hundred measly dollars. A few hundred fucking measly dollars! His profits had never been that bad, not even when he was a fresh-faced rookie for crying out loud, so where had all his customers disappeared to? Turned out they hadn’t just disappeared, they’d been turning up dead all over the city, many of them familiar names who’d bought from him for years. Now all of a sudden they were dropping like flies in just a few weeks? It didn’t make any sense and because of that, Roman was pissed. "So what the hell happened then?? And don’t tell me, they all decided to join a doomsday cult? The crap we sell is clean so it can’t have been that killing them all!” The muscle, those slack-jawed idiots shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, not one brave soul amongst them daring to lift his gaze for fear of getting a punch to the jaw for his trouble. Even Ms. Li didn’t have a smart quip for once which didn’t make him feel any better. Rocco was merely a dog, blissly unaware and uncaring of the situation that had befallen his master and Roman envied the mutt for the briefest of moments, wishing life could only be so simple. Horsehead was the only one who seemed composed, but the rubbery white equine mask he always wore concealed any and all expressions from others. ”Word on the streets is that bad drugs have gotten into Gotham and they’re coming from your territory. No idea what they are or where they came from just yet, but it’s bad stuff. Real bad. The GCPD claim twenty victims have turned up dead this week and they’re finding more and more bodies every day. Buyers are getting nervous so they’re staying away, you know... just in case they’re next.” ”No fucking shit. This is bad for business!” Roman snapped, running a hand over his blackened scalp. Today was turning out to be an absolute disaster. Roman didn’t give a rat’s ass about some random dropheads too stupid to know not to OD themselves but he did care about his reputation and how badly profits would be hit should people believe these lies being spread about him being the one distributing whatever the fuck was killing his regulars. Ever since the fiasco that caused him to lose Janus Cosmetics, Roman always double-checked his deals and made sure he’d gotten exactly what he’d been promised. Poisoned drugs were not what he desired - the dead didn’t come back for another fix and now he was out of pocket and liable to end up in serious shit if he didn’t get a handle on this situation quickly. It was only a matter of time before the bat brigade came snooping, if they hadn’t been doing so already, and tossed his ass in Arkham. Worse still, Red Hood might believe he was responsible for these killer drugs snuffing out people all over the city and would do a hell of a lot more than just breaking his bones and dragging him back to the slammer. And Roman really didn’t feel like dealing with that asshole today. Unfortunately, Horsehead seemed to read his mind and commented further before he could say anything against it. ”Why not contact Red Hood? He can’t be worse than the Joker, plus you might find out what the hell’s going on around here.” ”Have you lost your fucking mind, Horsehead??? The last time we dealt with that asshole, he nearly blew our previous building to Kingdom Come with a goddamn ROCKET LAUNCHER!!! Or did you miss that newsflash somehow??” ”That’s because he wanted to make a good first impression. Next time we might not be so fortunate, especially if he thinks these rumors are true. Shoot first, think later and all that.” Roman gritted his teeth, seething at what he was hearing but knew he didn’t have any better suggestions. For all his issues, Red Hood didn’t target civilians so he couldn’t be the one responsible for the killer drugs either. He would not poison a bunch of random people just to make up an excuse to come after his enemies, he did so anyway regardless so there weren’t many other options avaliable and like hell was he running to the Bat.

”Fine. Send a message to Red Hood, tell that prick we need to talk. Where and when, I don’t give a damn - somebody’s trying to set up shop or cause trouble between us, one or both and I ain’t interesting in taking the blame for this mess.” The muscle, who had been watching this exchange nearly breathed out a collective sigh of relief as Roman signalled for them to go, clearly wanting to formulate a plan with Horsehead in private. They did so quickly, coming up with the idea that the equine-masked man would instruct a new underling, one of the most harmless members they had on hand to get the vigilante’s attention and let him know Black Mask needed to discuss a delicate matter at a time and place of his choosing, preferably sooner than later. Roman sighed once Horsehead also left, collapsing back in his seat and pouring himself a shot of whiskey which he downed fiercely. What a way to start the week. At least he’d caught wind of this situation early, and would soon root out the little rat bastard who’d poisoned half his regulars and scared off the rest. Horsehead’s words rang in his mind, that Red Hood couldn’t be worse than the Joker. Roman had a hard time believing it but what options did he have at this point? He had to make his move before anybody else did and stop this from getting any worse than it already had. @jp-todd-rp​

#jp-todd-rp #I am so sorry it took so long #Chip: Yeah I'll have that starter done for you tomorrow #Two weeks later: #And I'm sorry it went on for so LONG #I don't mind shorter responses if that works better for you #Let me know if anything needs changing! #And if this doesn't work we can try something else! #I wrote this once before and the draft got deleted asdfghj #Fingers crossed this goes through okay #drugs tw #drugs cw #death mention tw #death mention cw #overdose mention tw #overdose mention cw

[emileesaurus]

i also need a distraction from being depressed about the state of loustat politics SO! may i present you with one of my fave loustat headcanons which is: Louis is so goddamn stubborn that he ABSOLUTELY continues their fights in the bedroom. he is so good at multi-tasking and he WILL fuck lestat while delivering a perfect rebuttal. absolutely brutal debate partner tbh

I LOVE THIS... You know they're both phenomenally stupid when they're horny (this was 50% of why Louis agreed to become a vampire in the first place) but Lestat's IQ plummets into the negatives when Louis actually initiates things.

This doesn't quite match your prompt, because apparently I'm in the mood for fluffy nonsense today. 500 words, PG-13ish, belligerent smoochies.

"You see? I was right: you always use sex to change the subject."

"Sex and violence, chéri. Were you in the opposite mood? I wouldn't mind breaking some furniture, I've had my eye on the most magnificent seventeenth century oh— oak— desk—"

Louis sucked at Lestat's throat without breaking skin; his pulse throbbed against Louis's tongue and echoed beneath his silk shirt as Louis unfastened his buttons. His thighs tightened around Louis's hips as he straddled Louis's lap on the sofa, and Louis felt his own heartbeat quicken in response — some useless mortal instinct that he distantly wished he could still act upon.

He sucked, slow and rhythmic, drawing at Lestat's pulse as though he were drinking, and when he dragged his fangs against the raised vein in his throat, Lestat gasped and clutched at him as though he were succumbing to the swoon.

It took all the self-discipline Louis possessed to pull away. He pressed a soft, regretful kiss to the pale mark he'd left, already fading, and contented himself with Lestat's shiver of desire.

"I'm not as easily distracted as you are, Lestat." Louis cradled the nape of Lestat's neck, dragging the sharp point of his thumbnail teasingly across the sensitive spot he'd just abandoned.

Lestat's silver eyes were dark and half-lidded, a smug, dreamy smile on his lips. He always looked so proud of Louis when he managed to be wicked — when Lestat could bring out his devious side. "And yet here we are…"

"Proving my point…" Louis echoed his tone, a habit he had picked up from Lestat over the years.

"Which was what?" Lestat batted his eyelashes innocently, which only made him look more debauched. "Remind me."

"That you use this to get out of difficult conversations." Louis splayed his palms against cool skin and felt Lestat's quiet, pleased groan beneath his hands. Was this how it felt to play an instrument? To coax a bit of music out of something beautiful? "So that you don't have to be wrong."

Lestat let out a breathless laugh, tipping his forehead against Louis's, golden hair falling in a curtain around them.

"I'm never wrong."

Louis dismissed that with a quiet hmm. "So you don't have to be vulnerable."

"I'm vulnerable now. Look." Lestat craned his neck, offering himself so shamelessly that Louis's fangs ached with the urge to sink into his flesh. His pulse raced with anticipation, with the instinctive desire to feel Lestat's heart beat in time with his own as the rest of the world fell away. "You can do anything you want to me."

It was astonishingly effective. If it were anyone but Lestat, Louis would have dropped the argument entirely. But if it were anyone else, he wouldn't have been in this situation.

"You are an absurdity," Louis whispered, and kissed him softly on the lips. "Then you admit it?"

"I admit nothing," Lestat said, sliding his arms around Louis's shoulders and nipping sweetly at his mouth. "I'm under duress."

#vc #my fic #answered #i'm still open to prompts ✨ i'm just slow #people who can actually write five sentence fics: how

[dailycass-cain]

Thoughts on DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #4

DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #4 has the Cass back at last (she last showed up in #1). So I get to talk about this series again.

I have to say other than ONE subplot not getting teased in this series so far (where is my Talia/Steph finale dagnabit from DCeased: Hope at World’s End), I am enjoying the utter unpredictability this finale has gotten. You have this large intergalactic army taking out worlds and spreading the Anti-Life virus.

The heroes of Earths 1 & 2 attend a galaxy meeting on what to do with the anti-life army destroying life around the universe. The Guardians of Oa solution is well... even in another universe the blue guys are such goddamn dicks (what happened to you Ganthet? You used to be the cool chill Guardian). 

I mean you could explain it away given Ares is to blame for “heightening” everyone’s aggression (seriously is he also the god of trolling? besides wars). 

Whatever is the case, I like that instantly a certain group of heroes (including a certain someone) raise their voice to this stupid plan of the Guardian’s. 

I just love the pose here given to Cass along with just the lightning being held. If anything, I'd kill for a story of Mary showing Cass how to better use these powers. The reverse of DC Unkillables of Cass/Shiva teaching her to fight.

Speaking of DC of Hope At World’s End I feel like this universe needs one more series AKIN to it but this time focusing on the bits between the Unkillables, Dead Planet, and events prior to this one. There's still so much to mine in material in between these stories.

Like how's Punished Jimmy Olsen now seeing Superman as is?  Is he still moody? Is he wearing all-black and inner monologuing still? Rose raising her/Jason’s kid? Damian/Cass being the only Bats left (unless Steph is alive via Laz Pit). Harley/Ivy? Ace being the only speedster in the universe (though most save two are in the Speed Force). Speaking of the speedsters in the Speed Force: how are they? What about villains? I’d love to see the Cyborg Superman investigating the Anti-Life virus given his death wish agenda. What of a former Anti-Life possessed being? What’s it like to be in their heads? So many characters to see that still to be seen. 

If there's any negative I can have for this particular series is just the sudden quickening in pace it takes with this issue. I feel like next issue bad stuff is gonna go down next issue and LOTS of faces we love are not gonna walk away.

Is this a red flag that Cass will die? Possibly. The whole "god" portion of Darkseid and the fact that Mary/Cass have the powers of the gods. Just makes me think they'll lose it and get ravaged or sacrifice play together.

But the red flag this issue for me is writer Tom Taylor spending time with Alfred and I just get the sense that the death flags are coming for Damian first. Just something about the way the scene is staged between him and Alfred.

It has that mood to me SOMEONE amongst these two isn't seeing the other again alive after this. Doesn’t help either that Alfred has a nightmare of Bruce, Tim, and Dick asking him, “WHY?! WHY DID YOU MURDER US?!” Revisiting that and the dialogue from this and later between Alfred/Damian just suggests to me something BAAAAD is gonna happen to Damian. That and one of the Earths is boned for sure.  

But we’re another month away from #5.  Until then, I will enjoy the awesome moments we got this issue with Cass. Like Cazzam doing this to Kilowog:

I mean just everything of Cazzam in general with this series leaves me all giddy and happy as heck. Because of that, I ain’t gonna spoil the remaining half of this book. I'm not going to spoil the later twists this issue takes. But gosh darn am I 😮at what occurs at the end. This is up there with Anti-Life Plastic Man of terrified. Even if said character hasn't DONE ANYTHING YET.

Overall, I still think DCeased is Tom Taylor's lengthy DC work. I enjoy his single issues of Injustice more, but from the beginning to currently? I'm still loving this series. I can't wait to see where this goes. Good or bad ending for all. I'm here for this ride.

But the added bonus of Cass being around thru this series helped even more of that enjoyment.

Now if you excuse the other half of me as I await #5...

#cassandra cain #dc comics #psuedofolio #did the glorious spoiler warning

[mapledyke]

Mommy issues vent

I fucking hate my mother and I hate how nobody understands what the fuck I'm talking about when I explain my situation. I say "she doesnt let me do anything" and I get "why, because she doesnt let you run around and do whatever you want? haha!" No you fucking cunt I mean growing up she barely even let me leave my room. Most of the time I couldn't go outside. Now I have anxiety attacks just trying to cross the street on the rare occasion I actually get to walk anywhere.

I wasn't even supposed to go in the kitchen, and I was never allowed to cook my own food. I wasn't allowed to clean or do my own laundry, but she'd sometimes expect me to of nowhere and gleefuly use it as an opportunity to make me feel useless and stupid. She'd grin and say things like "aw, poor (childhood nickname), she doesn't know how to do anything" and then step in and smugly do it herself. She only started letting me cook and clean two or three years ago, which has been a huge relief but still doesn't make up for the years and years of refusing to even teach me how to make pasta. Through all of high school I wanted to get a job and she wouldn't let me get one, I wanted to learn to drive and she wouldn't let me. I'm 20 now and I still don't have my license and I'm unemployed. My only experience is about a year's worth of work I did for a family member in high school.

I wasn't allowed to be a part of any clubs or try out any sports throughout all of school and I struggled academically because I was being abused by my father, so I don't qualify for any merit based scholarships if I ever want to try and go back to college. I desperately want to move out but I can't afford to because I don't have a job and I don't even know if I could take care of myself because I can't do fucking anything. She never let me develop those skills.

I wasn't allowed to date, I wasn't allowed to go see friends, I wasn't allowed to drive, I wasn't allowed to work, I wasn't allowed to go on walks, I wasn't allowed to do chores, the most basic tasks, and I feel like she's ruined my entire goddamned life because I can't fucking do anything!!!! I can't leave because I have no skills and my symptoms sometimes prevent me from even being able to function, so if things get bad - and I know they will - what am I supposed to do if I suddenly can't work? I'll be homeless.

So it's like I'm fucking stuck with her forever and it's my fault for being pathetic and stupid and undisciplined and bad at everything but it's her fault too for making me this way. I hate her. I can't even stand to hear her breathe. I've fantasized about killing her since I was in kindergarten. I get so angry I can't focus on anything or even sleep and I think about bashing her head in with a baseball bat. I think about ripping her flesh out with my teeth and tearing out her hair and mocking her while she screams. I think about chopping her up with an axe. I have no memory of ever expressing any anger to her directly because I've always been too scared, but sometimes I wonder if it's just made it harder to cope with in the long run.

When I was a little kid I started making plans to run away and live in the mountains. I'd keep track of the prices at the grocery store and hoard food and change and things I thought I could use as weapons because I wanted to be prepared. I considered killing her before I left but I could never decide. I hate her and want her to suffer. But I think I love her too because I feel guilty at the idea she could die unhappy one day after living such a shitty miserable life. I hate her and want her in pain but I also want her to eventually die happy and at peace. I wish there was a way to erase all of her memories of me so it'd be like I never existed.

But I can't talk about how I feel because she's not even abusive, sometimes she's actually fine. If she's in a good mood we can joke around and have a pleasant conversation. She never hit me unless you count spanking. But most of the time growing up she was just angry and high strung and cold and accusing and I was sure she hated me. But when I eventually realized she actually loved me it didn't help, because her love is smothering and scary and horrible. Every time she saw me or even heard me it was like she had some way to guilt trip me or accuse me of lying or hiding something.

My whole life has been nothing but her feelings and her trauma and her problems. I'm not even allowed to have my own trauma because my trauma is somehow still all about her and how it makes her feel. I've always been terrified enraged towards her but also I feel a lot of pity for her.

And people don't fucking get it, they think we need to "talk about it" or I just need to "stand up to her" or something as if my mother has ever been the type of person who can survive the weight of a single ounce of citicism. I get blamed for it because "she was just trying to protect you" "I'm sure she didn't know she was hurting you, no mother would do that on purpose". Everyone assumes I'm just lazy and don't want to learn these basic skills because they don't understand what it's like to have a parent who has never let you grow up.

Honestly even if I could take care of myself I probably couldn't just cut ties because I know she'd lose her fucking mind and I don't think I could stomach it. I don't want anything to do with her, and a huge part of me wants to hurt her but the other part of me doesn't want to make her life even worse than it already has been. A lot of the time I wish she'd just die in her sleep.

It makes me want to just kill myself because I don't have a future but I can't do that either. I don't know what to do, I've gone back to my old childhood fantasies about living in the woods. I know it really wouldn't but sometimes I think it's be easier.

#🍁 #anyway. hiiii girlies <3 #vent #ask to tag

[out-of-context-batfam]

Detective Comics (2016) #975

#WHY THE HELL ISNT THIS A GODDAMN MEME YET?!! #I WILL GIVE YOU GUYS ONE GUESS WHICH MALE BATBOY BABS IS TALKING TO... HALF A GUESS #BABS IS SO DONE WITH THIS MYSTERY PERSON SHE IS TALKING TO #WHY DO ALL THE BATS HAVE TO BE SUCH GODDAMN MOODS ALL THE TIME? #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #out of context #detective comics #batgirl #Barbara Gordon #hackerbat #funny #dammit babs #she is so done #memeworthy #mood #if it was her more recent design she could fit her eye roll in it #1k

[the-iceni-bitch]

Groupie

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Colin’s a cranky idiot, and you’re starting to get pissed about it.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (mentions of m receiving oral and penetrative sex, f receiving oral sex, semi-public sex, mentions of sex with multiple partners), mentions of minor injury, idiots in love, minor angst, fluff, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Well, I thought about dragging this out even longer but I couldn’t do it! Special shout out to @wayward-blonde and @starlightcrystalline because I know they love this soft boi!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!!

Colin was in a horrible mood.

He had been for two weeks. Ever since he had the brilliant drunk idea to try jumping over your couch while the two of you were playing a very tipsy game of keep away with your pussy and ended up breaking his fucking shoulder. Now he was stuck in a goddamn sling and unable to do pretty much anything.

Granted, you had been coming over a whole lot to play nurse, feeding him takeout when he acted like a baby until his adorable pouting finally worked and convinced you to suck or ride his cock. But you always went back to your place once you were finished, leaving him to sigh and frown and the empty spot in his bed that seemed made for you.

Maybe he could have put up with that, and even tolerated not being able to practice with you and the rest of the band. He probably could have handled it, if it hadn’t been for that blonde bastard.

Ok, he wasn’t really a bastard. He actually seemed really fun and maybe a bit nerdy, and Colin did love his ridiculous t-shirts. But he’d spent two nights in a row at your place, so Colin hated him. You never let guys sleep over, and, yes, you were still letting Colin indulge himself in you, but if he had to hear you laugh at one more of that douchebag’s jokes he was going to spit.

“Colin? Are you listening to me?” You poked him with your toes from where you were sitting across the couch from him, grinning when he turned his pouty face to yours and flinging your legs over his lap while you read your book. “I asked if you were coming to the show tonight.”

“Course I’m coming, it’s my fucking band.” He tried to keep up his whiny attitude, but then your foot was rubbing over his cock through his sweats and he let out a deep groan.

“That why you’re being so bitchy?” You moved your foot just a little and smirked when he wriggled underneath you. “I’m not stealing your band, baby, but this gig has been lined up for two months. If you hadn’t been so fucking over eager to get a taste of pussy, you’d be playing with us.”

“I think you should make it up to me.” He had a lot of trouble holding onto his bad mood when you were this close to him.

“Thought me taking over for you was making it up to you.” You set your book aside and sighed when he grabbed your ankle with his good hand and lifted it towards his face, brushing his lips over the curve of your calf and batting those stupid eyelashes at you.

“C’mon, you have a little time, right?” His balance was off but he managed to drag you into his lap, maneuvering you around his sling until your warm core was sitting right over his growing bulge. “Feeling that pretty pussy flutter around me makes my arm hurt less.”

“You’re manipulative.” You rolled your hips into his and bent forward to tug at his lips with your teeth when he gasped, his unslung arm winding around your waist to keep you close when you tried to reach for where your phone was buzzing on the couch.

“No, honey, leave it.” He dragged his tongue over your pulse pleadingly when you checked the message you had just received, his mood souring again when you let out a soft chuckle as he asked a question that made him hate himself. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jake, he’s coming to the show tonight.” You didn’t even register Colin’s grumble against your neck as you giggled at the stupid GIF Jensen had sent you. 

“You actually dating someone?” He thought he did a good job of keeping the bitterness out of his voice, but the look you shot him told him he’d failed.

“Aww, don’t fucking worry, Col. You’re still my number one fuck buddy.” You grabbed his lower lip when he pouted at you. 

“Whatever you say.” He  fell back against the couch with a huff and scowled, not even you peppering kisses all over his face serving to bring him out of his funk. “Don’t see you letting me spend the night, but whatever.”

“You’re being stupid.” You sat back on his knees and frowned at him, rolling your eyes when he just shrugged at you. “Fine, if you’re gonna be a brat, I’m leaving.”

He knew he should talk to you about this, tell you that all he wanted was to spend his days playing music with you and his nights taking you apart nice and slow. But he was a stubborn asshole, so he just kicked his coffee table when you let his door slam behind you when left without saying another word. If you were gonna wave some moron in his face, he might as well have some fun of his own, no matter how grumpy he actually was about it.

You were in a mood now, too. Which made no fucking sense. Colin was just supposed to be a release. Yeah, you were still crushing on him, but the whole point of your little arrangement was to get him out of your system, not deal with stupid feelings you had no use for. That was why when your old friend with excellent benefits, Jake, called to let you know he was going to be back in town for just a few nights, you immediately invited him to stay with you. Because while you were pretty sure that sweet puppy of a man was definitely carrying a little bit of a torch for you, he knew you couldn’t do the long distance thing, and was fine with settling for fucking you into your mattress whenever you’d let him. 

The rest of your afternoon was spent sulking around your apartment until it was time to head to the bar to warm up, the rest of the band immediately picking up on your bad mood and mumbling to themselves about how big of idiots you and Shea were being. You just focused on the sound check and not on the way you wanted to scream with frustration.

That became even harder when Colin walked into the bar with some blonde waif on his good arm, and you actually heard Keith mutter a low fuck before there was a rush of blood to your ears that took over your senses. It took you a moment but you managed to reset, chewing the inside of your lip before you started running through vocal exercises again.

Colin barely spared a glance for you when he moved with Christy to the bar. Crystal? Krista? Something like that. He hated that he’d had to dig into his phone to find someone to bring to hopefully make you jealous, because this chick was just a little too happy when he’d asked her if she wanted to join him tonight. But he was on a time crunch, so he’d have to make due.

He let his date chatter away at him, barely contributing to the conversation when he noticed that blonde dork that had been staying over at your place wander into the bar. The man waved at you and Colin could have spit nails at the grin that split over your face. You shot Colin a smirk before running to greet the idiot, and he just turned back to the girl who was nattering at him and wondering why he did this to himself. It was only a few minutes later and Colin saw the asshole leaving, turning away from his date to find you and sighing when you were just moving back to the stage with a relaxed smile on your face, so apparently you were fine?

The lights started dimming and Colin groaned when his date turned him away from the stage so she could keep talking his ear off. Craig’s voice barely broke through her noise, introducing you guys and letting the crowd know that due to Colin being a dumbass, you were gonna be trying some new covers out. What the fuck did that mean?

“Colin? It’s too noisy here.” Chrissy tried to tug on Colin’s sleeve to get him to follow her. “Let’s go somewhere quiet so we can talk.”

“Hey!” Colin whipped around when your voice cut through the bar’s din, your hand wrapped around the mic as the light hit you and Colin felt all the air go out of him in a whoosh. “Been trying to meet you. Mmmmm.”

Holy fuck. You were playing his guitar. You were singing Pixies and playing his guitar while your hips rolled with the bass and he could have died right there. He couldn’t even hear his date anymore, wrenching his arm out of her grasp when she tried to pull him away from the bar so he could watch you.

You were mesmerizing. He had heard you sing before, and been on stage with you, but watching you from the crowd was something else entirely. And you were just singing covers. 

He was such an idiot. Every single time a song ended and the crowd at the bar gave you your deserved applause it just confirmed it for him. He needed to quit fucking around with you and just tell you…

Shit, it was over. Everyone was freaking out over how goddamn amazing you were and he was at a loss for what he should do. So he ordered shots, not even noticing that his date had disappeared at some point during the performance.

He saw you starting to make your way off stage and downed his last shot, moving after you and trying his best to run through exactly what he wanted to say. You were chatting with Matt and Keith excitedly in the hall, turning to face Colin when Keith nodded at him over your shoulder and forgetting all about how much of a brat he had been earlier.

“Hey Col! Did you… hey!”

Colin grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the little 5 x 5 box this dive called a green room, ignoring the lewd suggestions Matt and Keith called after the two of you. You let him slam the door behind you before trying to ask him what the fuck was happening, but then he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours.

“You were fucking amazing.” He hated this sling so fucking much, trying to get your shirt off with his off hand was frustrating as hell. 

“I was, wasn’t I?” You pushed him away from you a little and took your shirt off on your own, moaning when he immediately leaned back into you so he could suck at your nipples through the lace of your bra. “You gonna turn into my groupie now, Colin?”

“Yep.” He kissed his way down your torso until he sank to his knees with a wobble, shooting his hand out to brace himself against the wall until he was steady. “‘Til this sling comes off.”

“You better be waiting for me naked in every green room… or mop closet… after each show for the next month.” You grinned at him when he shoved your skirt up towards your hips, carding your fingers through his hair and letting him press a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he was rubbing his face over your clothed cunt and moaning. 

He hooked his fingers in the gusset of your panties and pulled them aside, taking a brief moment to appreciate the sight of your slick cunt before diving forward and devouring you.

“Oh, Jesus fuck.” Your head thumped against the wall when his tongue lapped lazily at your puffy lips, collecting all of your slick with a series of lewd slurps before dragging the thick, flattened muscled over your swollen clit at an agonizing pace.

Colin was wasting no time in taking you apart, his whole mouth wrapping around your sex while he kept swirling his tongue around and over your clit until you were throbbing against his lips. Your knees felt like they were going to give out when he started tracing his name over you with the tip of his tongue, still suckling hungrily at the arousal that was seeping out of you and soaking his face.

When he let out a deep groan your whole body jolted, your fingers tugging desperately on his hair and tilting his head back so you could gaze into his lust blown eyes as he brought you right to the edge. Then he pulled back suddenly and you could have cried, hissing between your teeth at the loss of him and shooting him a quizzical look while he gasped for breath.

“I don’t wanna fuck other girls anymore.” He breathed it out in a rush, murmuring the words like he was afraid if he really said them it would break the spell that seemed to have settled over the two of you. “And I don’t want you to fuck other guys.”

“What? Colin…” If he was playing some kind of stupid game with you you were going to be so pissed.

“Wanna… ah fuck it… wanna be your boyfriend, Y/N.” He breathed deep once he said it, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest as he looked up at you expectantly and brushed his lips over the inside of your thigh.

“And this seemed like the best time to bring this up?” You wanted to tease him a little bit, but you weren’t going to deny the way your heart was thudding against your chest as you thought about what this would mean for the two of you. “Are you gonna hold my orgasm for ransom until I give you the answer you want?”

“No.” He winced at his lack of grace in this situation, trying to turn away from you but then you were cupping his cheek and beaming at him.

“Guess we’re official then, Col. Who would’ve thought?” The look of pure bliss on his face could have made you melt right there. “Now do that thing so we can get out of here and celebrate with you spending the night.”

He winked at you and leaned forward to press a wet kiss to your clit before wrapping his lips around it. Then he did the thing, the thing that no one else had ever done but that had your legs turning to jelly in a matter of seconds. He sucked hard on your swollen bud, tapping his tongue against the back of his teeth in a staccato rhythm that had the pressure around you fluttering like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Just a few seconds of that and you bit your lip to hold back a scream, your release running over his chin as you clenched around nothing and leaned heavily against the wall. Colin could have stayed there watching you for hours, your chest heaving and a light sheen of sweat making your skin glow; you looked like a fucking goddess. But he let you help him to his feet and tugged your skirt back down around your hips, pressing his lips to your hair while you grabbed your shirt and buttoned it back up.

“So…” He was grinning at you like an idiot when your eyes met his again, winding the fingers of his free hand through yours and swinging them like a sap. “Your place, or mine?”

#natalie writes #colin shea #colin shea x reader #colin shea x fem!reader #colin shea x you #colin shea x y/n #colin shea smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #smut #eighteen plus #eighteen and over #do not interact if you are a minor #Spotify

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 30

Chapter 1     Chapter 29

Roy rushed into the hospital searching for Marinette.  He knew she was there; he just didn’t know where.  Was she being seen by a doctor?  Was she in surgery?  Was she in the morg…  No, he wouldn’t even entertain that idea.  She was fine.  Jason said she had still been standing when Dick last saw her.  That had to be a good sign, right?  That meant she was okay… somehow.

It would have been a wonder to take on Black Mask alone and survive, let alone taking on his men as well.  To still be standing after going in without anyone else there with her was a goddamned miracle.  Heroes trained for decades had barely survived just against him.  Hell, even Jason wasn’t stupid enough to go up against Black Mask alone.  And yet Marinette, who had no training, certainly not to the level of any of the bats had, not only survived, she came out on top.  Black Mask was knocked out and she was the last one standing.  He wanted to say she had to be the luckiest person he’d ever met, but not even luck would have been enough.

Roy had more questions than he knew how to ask and the second most frustrating thing about this, after having had to just sit and wait for news of where Marinette was and whether she was safe while attempting virtual suicide, was knowing he probably wasn’t going to get the answer to them tonight. Jason had made clear they, or at least he, had no idea what happened or how she survived, and Marinette probably wasn’t going to be in the mood to answer questions tonight.

He burst through the doors to the surgical waiting room, looking for a computer he could hack into in order to find Marinette’s room, but froze when his eyes landed on her standing in the middle of the room.  “Marinette!” he yelled.  His body lurched into movement instantly, reaching her in three long strides.  He reached out to envelop her in a protective hold, because after knowing what she had done, all he wanted to do was wrap her up and never let her out of his arms.  Followed quickly by yelling at her for such a stupidly dangerous stunt. Only one impulsive, reckless maniac could exist in this relationship at a time and he’d already fulfilled that requirement.

“Roy?” Marinette blinked in confusion, trying to figure out why he was there.  The thought of anyone else coming, other than Chloe who was already on her way, had honestly not occurred to her.

Roy gave her a quick look over and froze just before he crashed into her, his hands hovering centimeters from her.  Her body was tensed and her eyes scrunched in preparation for his barrage.  He didn’t know if the reaction was due to prepping to fall when he hit her or if she was afraid it would aggravate injuries from the fight or if it was a visceral, PTSD reaction to being charged by a large man after being in that warehouse with Black Mask’s goons.  Again, he had considerably more questions than answers.  But for now, the most important questions were easier.  “How are you?  Where am I allowed to touch you?”

“You can touch me anywhere you want,” Marinette purred, but her eyes didn’t match the coquettish teasing in her voice.  Her usual bright eyes were guarded, darting between the ICU doors and the empty nurse’s station.  She barely even looked at him since he came in, too focused on the doors separating them from where he imagined Adrien must be.

Roy pressed his lips together tightly and narrowed his eyes at her, unamused by her flippant attitude toward her injuries. “I meant where are you not hurt?  Have you seen a doctor yet?”

Marinette’s eyes darted to him and back to the doors again so quickly he almost missed it.  “I’ve seen quite a few,” she answered vaguely.

Max narrowed his eyes at her as well.  He and Markov had rushed down to the hospital as soon as he’d dropped off the others and hastily packed a bag for her.  All in all, they arrived only about thirty minutes after he’d dropped her and Adrien off at the hospital and she had already been here, in the same position; pacing in front of the doors to the surgical wing. He shared a look with Markov and looked back at her.  They knew her tells well enough to know she wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t exactly telling the truth either.

Roy frowned at the answer.  He looked her over more analytically, gently prodding areas he suspected might have been hurt.  His eyes settled on her seemingly hastily bandaged cheek.  “Who patched you up?” he groused as he gently stroked the skin below the cut.  Marinette suppressed the flinch from knowing she had done it herself with a stolen band aid in the ER to try to stop the bleeding and get people to stop fussing over her.

He tutted and frowned in disapproval.  “Whoever did that should be fired.  You should see a different doctor.  I wouldn’t trust the doctor that did that with anything.”

“Roy, I’m fine,” Marinette insisted sharply. She batted his hands away with an annoyed scowl.  “I’m more worried about Adrien.”

Roy pursed his lips again, not only was she showing absolutely no concern for what had to be considerable injuries and pain, she had also received sub-par medical attention.  At least when Jason and Dick pulled this shit, they had Alfred to knock them back in line and force them to accept help and their own value.  Just one person in his life that at least pretended like they valued their own lives, would be nice.  Lian needed at least one really good role model and it wouldn’t hurt the Waynes to have one in their family either.  He took a breath and let it out, that was a battle for later. Right now he had other priorities. “How is he?  Have they told you?”

“CT scans and x-ray indicate at least eight broken bones, three of which are ribs, several more are cracked.  One of the breaks nicked the right lung.  There’s also considerable damage to the abdomen and massive internal bleeding,” Max answered for her.  

Roy fought the full body wince that he instantly came over him.  Those kinds of injuries could take months if not years to recover from.  He would know.  But he stopped himself from reacting.  Him reacting so negatively wouldn’t help Marinette.  Hearing the overview of symptoms had made her stiffen even further ever so slightly.  She had tried to hide it, to pretend like she wasn’t affected, focusing on the surgical wing doors instead, but he’d still seen it.

He wanted to reassure her that he had come back from worse, her whole family had in fact, and Adrien would too.  But he knew it wouldn’t do anything for her in this state.  It wouldn’t have for him.  He’d been in the same position before with Jason, with Mia, with Connor, with Grant, and more.  He’d seen more than his fair share of hospitals and he hated that Marinette had to experience it as well.  “I’m surprised they gave you that much information already,” he said instead.

“They didn’t.  I did,” Markov chirped.  He flew over in front of Roy, hovering inches from his face.  “Hello, Roy Harper.”

Roy flinched back from the robot’s sudden appearance in front of him.  “Uh… hi, slightly ominous machine overlord.”

Max snorted, drawing Marinette’s attention to them. Marinette blinked and looked between the two.  “Sorry. You haven’t met Max or Markov yet. Roy,” she motioned toward the robot floating in front of him and the man next to the robot, “this is Markov and this is Max.  Markov, Max, this is Roy.”

Max gave Roy a tight smile and a nod.  “It’s nice to meet you, Roy.  We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yes, nice to meet you, Roy Harper,” Markov chirped.

Roy looked over to Marinette with a grin intending to tease her, but her attention was already back on the surgery wing doors. His heart sank at the sight.  He gently wound his arms around her waist to let her know he was there for her if she wanted.  She relaxed against him almost instantly.  It was barely there, she was still standing tall and rigid, but it was enough for him to feel it and feel like he was at least making a positive difference for her.  He nodded back at Markov and Max.  “It’s nice to meet you both.  I’m sorry it was under these circumstances.”

He looked back at Marinette for a moment before returning his attention to Max and Markov.  “So… do we have an idea of how the surgery is going?”

Markov looked toward the wall for a few minutes before responding.  “They appear to have already finished on the lung and are operating on his abdomen.  I will need to get closer to get more specific, but his vitals are within an acceptable range.”

Roy nodded.  “That sounds good.  If they’re moving fast and the vitals are still good.  That’s a really positive sign.”

Max nodded curtly and took a seat with a worried look toward Marinette and Markov.  “I don’t know the statistics for this,” he admitted anxiously.  Marinette looked over at him and bobbed her head slightly to catch his eyes, some of the concern in her eyes transferring to him as well.  He took a deep breath and nodded back to her with some assurance.

“He’ll be okay,” Marinette assured him with more confidence than she felt.  “Chloe would never permit anything less.”

Max huffed out a laugh and looked back to the doors to avoid meeting any eyes.  Markov hovered near him, not directly in his eyeline, but close enough that Max understood he was there.  He adjusted his glasses and looked back up at Markov and Marinette with a nod.  He focused on Marinette with a weak smile. “Statistically improbable,” he agreed.

They both turned back to the surgery wing doors. “I was thinking blue for the living room,” Marinette suddenly said, inclining her head slightly toward Max to let him know she was speaking to him.

Max nodded contemplatively without looking away from the doors.  “I assume your office walls will be pink though.”

Marinette bobbed her head.  “Probably.  I just need to decide if that’s the waiting room, hallway, and my office or just my office… just the waiting room and hallway?”

Markov hovered between the two of them. “Statistically, grey or white are the most commonly chosen colors for office wall paint.”

Marinette scrunched her nose in disgust and let out an offended scoff.  “I am not paining my office walls white or grey.  So sterile and unwelcoming.  No personality.”

“There’s warm greys, aren’t there,” Max offered lightly causing Marinette to scrunch her nose even further.

Roy looked between them wordlessly as they continued to discuss paint colors for Marinette’s office.  He sighed silently.  He understood the tactic.  He understood avoidance.  It wasn’t healthy.  But sometimes it was necessary.  Sometimes it was the only thing that kept you moving, the only thing that kept you from collapsing and giving up on everything.  It was definitely still better than his old coping mechanisms and he just had to hope Marinette didn’t fall back onto her coping mechanisms and start shutting off her emotions.  She was reacting to Max, so it wasn’t too bad yet.  She was putting up a wall, but hadn’t completely detached yet.  He just needed to keep it going.

“So, tell me about Adrien,” Roy prompted them. “I only got to hang out with him on the weekend and we didn’t get to interact too much.  He was a bit more preoccupied with Kon.”

“Conner!” Marinette exclaimed, whirling around on him. Her eyes were wide with panic and guilt. “I didn’t… with everything I didn’t… I haven’t…”

Roy stood up slowly, placing his hands on her arms and slowly stroking them up and down.  “It’s okay.  I’ll call him.  I think he was coming to Gotham tonight anyway.  He might be able to be here really quickly.”  It was a lie.  He highly doubted Conner was anywhere near Gotham; he just needed an excuse for Kon showing up in a matter of minutes, as soon as he found out about Adrien.

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The anxiety slowly bled from her eyes and she relaxed again, only microscopically, but again, enough that Roy could see the difference.  He had no illusions that he would get her to fully relax tonight.  “Okay.  Thank you, Roy.”

Roy nodded and pulled her into a hug, finally feeling like he was free to put his arms around her and offer the comfort he had been desperate to offer all night.  With one arm still tight around her, he pulled out his phone to call Conner, immediately returning his arm around her again.  “Hey, get to Gotham General Hospital.  Adrien’s in surgery.  I thought you might be in town already and could get here quickly.”  He hung up without saying goodbye.  Conner had already hung up anyway.  Roy just had to hope he had the presence of mind to know not to show up immediately.

While he had the phone out, he quickly sent a text to Jason and Dick asking where the fuck they were, because there was absolutely no reason all of them had to be there for the aftermath… unless it was a lot worse than he had thought.  He cringed at the thought.  He still didn’t have any information on what had happened, but it didn’t really matter. Marinette was here, terrified for her brother, with none of her family to support her.

“Vitals have crashed,” Markov reported.  The eyebrows on his display slanted toward each other and his mouth turned down in concern.

Marinette gasped and jumped out of Roy’s arms, whipping her head back toward the surgical wing doors as though she might be able to see the surgery.  Max joined her, wringing his hands and watching Markov for any sign of change. Roy set his hand on Marinette’s shoulder but she flinched away, rounding on him in surprise, arm out ready to strike. He held his hand up and bobbed his head to meet her eyes and make sure she didn’t just look toward him, she saw him.  His effort seemed to calm her slightly as she let out a long breath, lowered her arm, and turned back to the door again, allowing him to lay his hand on her this time.

“The vitals are back to acceptable range again,” Markov reported.  “The doctor said the artery is tied off now.  They are returning to the original surgery.”

Max let out a loud breath.  His body wavered and he clung to a chair next to him for support. He sat for a few seconds, allowing his body to come back to a normal rhythm before giving Markov a weak smile. “Thank you, Markov.”  His grip tightened and loosened on the arms of his chair, his normal proper posture long gone in favor of slumping in his chair, but the smile, however small, was there.  Markov bobbed up and down next to him.  He looked between them all, concern still clear on his display, waiting for clues on how he could better assist.  But with Max calming himself down fairly effectively, Markov turned his attention to Marinette.  

Marinette was taking long deep breaths, still trying to calm her heart down.  Her eyes were unfocused as she stared at a random spot on the floor.  Roy could feel the shift.  He could feel her starting to detach again, all the progress from the paint discussion lost.  He could see her body tensing, becoming unyielding as the wall became higher, thicker, forcing distance between her and her surroundings.

“Let’s sit down,” Roy suggested delicately, slightly pulling Marinette toward a seat opposite Max.  Marinette followed him but sat rigidly, too anxious to relax into it, her leg bouncing restlessly, eyes still unfocused but pointed toward the doors.

The tension hung in the air, in the way it could only in a waiting room.  Instead of weighing things down and pushing until the pressure threatened to break everything it touched, it seemed to suck the pressure out of the room, demanding something else fill the void, demanding movement, demanding sound, demanding tears, demanding strength.  Nobody escaped without paying a part of their soul, and Roy was determined the price Marinette paid wasn’t her tears or her distance.

Marinette only sat for a few seconds before the tension induced vacuum compelled her to move again.  She sprang up and started pacing, stature more rigid and attention returning to the surgery wing doors with more laser focus than it had been when Roy first arrived.  She barely reacted when the doors from the lobby banged open as Conner burst through. He paused to take in the room quickly before rushing over to Marinette to give her a hug.  “How’s he doing?  Do we know?” He looked toward the far wall, his eyes unfocusing as if looking through it.

Marinette jumped at the contact and elbowed him in the jaw before she could even take in what happened.  Conner was so focused on the wall, he almost missed her movement until she was millimeters from him.  He jumped back before she could fully connect and held up his hands in surrender.  Roy shot up instantly to comfort Marinette and talk her down.  Roy made calming noises and watched her cautiously as he waited for her to register what was happening.

Marinette blinked at him a few times as the situation settled in her head, the process taking longer than Roy expected as if the wall was holding her back.  “Conner!” she exclaimed guiltily.  “I’m so sorry!  Are you okay?”

Conner approached her slowly.  “I’m okay.  You barely touched me.”  He settled his hands on her shoulders.  “How are you doing?”

Marinette pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Fine.  Thanks.  Adrien will be touched to know you came.”

Conner nodded.  “Have they told you anything?  Has Markov hacked into the system?”

“Of course, Conner Kent,” Markov answered. “He’s in surgery.”

“Things seem to be going well,” Roy answered, clapping him on the shoulder in welcome.

Conner nodded and continued staring through the wall for a few minutes, his face scrunching further with each passing minute.  “What happened?”

“He was kidnapped because of me,” Marinette said quietly.

Conner frowned deeply at her comment and shook his head. Roy wrapped her in a gentle hug, still not sure how tight he was allowed to touch her.  “This isn’t your fault,” he whispered into her hair.

Marinette let out a disbelieving scoff that Roy missed but Conner was just able to hear with his super hearing.  She backed away from Roy without meeting his eyes and without saying anything.  It wasn’t a fight she wanted right now.  She didn’t want to be comforted.  She didn’t want to feel better.  She didn’t want to feel at all.  She just wanted Adrien to be okay.

Conner nodded over to Max and Markov.  “How are you two doing?”

Max nodded back.  “We’re okay.  Nervous. Scared.  But healthy.”

Markov bobbed in agreement.  “Max and Marinette are within acceptable parameters physically.”

Conner smiled and turned his attention to the operating room.  He waited patiently for the rest of the group to turn theirs to the doors as well before he sidled over to Roy.  He watched the others for a few seconds to make sure they were distracted before fixing Roy with a pointed look.  “Who took him?” he demanded lowly.  “Did the bats get whoever it was?”

“Black Mask,” Roy answered for him.  “And the bats didn’t get him,” Conner sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.  Roy continued before Conner could formulate a plan to take him down.  “Marinette did.  The bats are taking him to Arkham though, I believe.”

Conner stared at Roy hard for a few moments trying to decipher if it was a joke or not.  Finally determining that it wasn’t he looked over to Marinette to give her an analytical look.  He looked her up and down intently.  A frown pulling his lips down as he scanned her, the frown deepening until it became a full scowl as he continued his scan.  “You went after Black Mask!  By yourself! What were you thinking?  Do you know how dangerous that man is?  You could have been killed.”

Max sucked in a breath and glared at Conner. Marinette’s face morphed instantly to cold and harsh.  “I was thinking that man is dangerous, he had Adrien, and if he died here, at that man’s hands, then he died permanently, not like the hundreds of other times I had to watch him die before.  He wouldn’t be coming back and I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Conner groaned loudly and threw up his hands in frustration.  “God, you’re just like Tim.  So fucking ready to lay down your life for someone you love.  So damned determined not to lose anyone else, you want to make everyone else lose you.”

“I protect my family,” Marinette growled lowly.

Conner groaned loudly again but Roy stepped up next to Marinette, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving Conner a pointed glare, before he could say anything.  “Nobody in this room has any right to judge on poorly thought out, dumbass decisions made to protect people we care about.  And now is not the time for recriminations.”

“Hey!” Marinette objected turning toward him to start a fight with him.

“You went against one of Gotham’s most dangerous rogues without backup, by yourself,” he pointed out, his voice steady and even, projecting a sense of calm he did not feel.  “I doubt even Superboy would do that despite his history of dumbass moves.” He ignored the huff Conner let out. “And we will be discussing that decision at some future point.”  Marinette pouted but let the subject drop in favor of returning her attention to the surgical wing doors.

He squeezed her waist, but she didn’t react at all.  He sighed internally and turned to Conner with a large, forced smile.  “But for now, you got here just in time.  They were about to tell stories about Adrien so if you play your cards right, you’ll get some embarrassing material.”

“Excellent idea, Roy Harper,” Markov chirped.

Roy narrowed his eyes at Markov.  “Do you keep using our full names to remind us we aren’t friends and you can and will hack into whatever you have to in order to research us and fuck up our lives if we mess up?”

“Yes,” Markov responded immediately.

Roy bobbed his head and looked over to Kon with a shrug.  “Okay. Understood.  You can just call me Roy now.”

“That is acceptable, Roy,” Markov agreed.

“Embarrassing…” Max asked, quickly picking up on Roy’s train of thought.  He quirked his head to the side.  He glanced at Marinette, a playful smile spreading on his lips.  “Did they mention his obsession with Ladybug?”

“So, Adrien knew Ladybug or he just has a thing for heroes?” Conner asked as casually as he could.  Roy barely dodged his swipe when Roy started shaking from poorly concealed laughter.

Max shrugged.  “That’s a no. He knew Ladybug and also has thing for heroes.  So, Adrien had a massive crush on Ladybug and tried to keep it a secret.  But Adrien is, for the most part, terrible at keeping secrets.  He thought we wouldn’t notice the tons of Ladybug merchandise he had…”

He sent a furtive look over to Marinette as he continued his story, searching for signs that she was listening.  There weren’t any there, but he continued to tell stories with Markov’s assistance, hoping some would break through to her.  After the third story, Marinette finally diverted her attention from the doors to pay attention to the story Markov told about the party they had in his room during collège.

During the next story, she joined in, throwing in more details about the time he rescued a drowning mermaid when he was a few hours past exhausted and missed that not only would a mermaid not be able to drown in water, the woman was actually swimming gracefully… in a swimming pool. It wasn’t until the sixth story that she actually sat with them and took over to tell it herself, genuine laughter bursting out of her for the first time since that morning.

Roy breathed a deep sigh of relief and watched her as she described Adrien attempting to beat Kim at an eating contest. Her arms were waving wildly as she talked, her eyes finally shining again.  He cracked up too when she puffed her cheeks out as far as she could to imitate Adrien.  He laughed even harder when Max joined in, puffing his cheeks out as well, trying to imitate Kim.  It almost seemed normal.  He could almost convince himself everything was fine and this was just a normal night with friends hanging out and telling stories.

The illusion was erased when Markov shot up, his display shifting colors rapidly.  “They’ve finished,” he reported.

“How did it go?” Max asked apprehensively. “Can you tell?”

“His vitals are stable.  They haven’t put anything in the charts yet, but the doctor said she needs to clean up before giving his family the good news,” Markov reported quickly.  His face display changed to a smile as he turned to face them.

Marinette let out a relived breath, but her body was still rigid.  The news was good, but not enough to calm her.  “Markov can you…”

“I’ve already informed Alya, Nino, and Chloe,” he cut in.  “I have an open line to them.”

Marinette nodded and looked back toward the doors waiting for the doctor to come talk to them.  She wouldn’t be fully relaxed until she knew for certain he was okay, until he was home and healthy and the fuck out of Gotham.

“How are you guys?” Nino called out.

Marinette blinked at Markov, the sound of Nino’s voice coming out of Markov was so odd, it knocked her out of the situation for a few seconds.  “We’re okay. Roy and Conner are here as well,” Max answered for her.

“Wait, I heard about Roy.  Who’s Conner?” Alya piped up.

“We told you about Conner,” Marinette answered distractedly, her focus back on the doors already.  “He’s the one who showed us around Metropolis.”

“Just say Adrien’s man,” Chloe cut in.  Conner choked, his face turned bright red.

“Let them go on at least one date first,” Marinette sighed.

“No,” Chloe and Alya answered at the same time.

“I’ll be there in five.  Tell Adrien’s man to be prepared for an interrogation,” Chloe stated ominously.  Marinette rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

Max slid his hand in hers and squeezed offering silent support and taking some for himself.  She met his eyes and nodded, squeezing his hand back.  They both faced the doors together, waiting for the doctor. Thankfully, they only had to wait a few minutes.  Marinette squeezed Max’s hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.  She fought to keep her breathing steady and even as the vacuum of the room threatened to steal it from her.

“Are you Adrien’s sister?” she asked Marinette.

Marinette sucked in a bracing breath and nodded.  “Yes, I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng, his sister.”

The doctor offered a comforting smile.  “He was in very rough shape when he came in. He had quite a few broken bones and a few fractured ones as well.  There was considerable tissue damage and internal bleeding.  It will take more than one operation to get everything back into order.  We’ve done what we can for now.  His most immediate, life-threatening issues have been addressed but there are substantial other issues we still need to address.  I want him to stabilize and recover a bit more before addressing the non-life-threatening issues.  It would be too much stress on his body to attempt to resolve all of the issues today.”

Marinette let out a long heavy breath.  “That makes sense.  When do you anticipate that happening?”

“It all depends on him and his body,” she hedged. “I would expect tomorrow afternoon, but if something comes up, we may need to go in earlier or if his vitals don’t stay within an expected variance, we will push it back.”  She gave Marinette a comforting smile.  “He seems strong.  He did amazingly well during surgery.  I really think we will be able to finish the rest tomorrow afternoon.  I would recommend everyone go home and sleep if you can.”

Marinette nodded in understanding.  “Thank you, Doctor.  We appreciate everything.  Is anything being done to keep him safe from another attack?”

The doctor walked over to the window and smirked. “There will be an officer stationed outside his room, but the real protection is the bats.”  She pointed toward the bats sitting on the rooftop across the street.  “I’d trust them before I’d trust the police.”  She gave a final smile and left the room.

Marinette frowned at the window and quickly crossed the room to pull down the curtain.  She liked the bats, she did, but they were close to the Waynes.  Their first reaction when they saw her with Black Mask was to tell her to back down.  She liked them individually, but she didn’t trust them collectively.

Curtain now closed and some semblance of privacy restored, she let out a breath, her knees no longer as strong and stable as they had been a few seconds ago.  Roy was next to her in an instant.  He pulled her into a hug that she melted into.  She jumped back out and in front of him when the doors slammed open again.

“Do those doors do anything other than slam,” Max grumbled, clutching at his chest in a vain attempt to calm down his thundering heart.

Chloe stopped in front of the doors, almost like she could sense they were framing her in the most dramatic way possible, and knowing Chloe, she probably did.  She glanced around the room, taking in everyone and their positioning and the atmosphere.  She looked pointedly at Roy’s arm on Marinette’s waist.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Chloe bellowed.  “You, Nathaniel’s older, hotter brother,” she motioned toward a confused looking Roy.  “Take her away.”

“Chloe…” Marinette started tiredly.

“It’s been a long ass day for you.  You got your ass kicked.  You told your genetic donor to go to fuck himself, and about fucking time too.  You need to rest.”  Marinette opened her mouth to object, but Chloe cut in before she could.  “You heard Markov and the doctor.  He’s stable for now.  He’s going to rest.  You should too.  He won’t wake up for another day at least.  Max and I will be here.  If anything happens, we’ll call y… him.” She motioned to Roy again.  “Give me your number, Weasley Number Nobody Cares.”

“Roy.  My name is Roy,” he offered.

“And?  Why are you still here?  Go!” She shooed him away.

Max sighed “Roy, Conner, this is Chloe.  Ignore her, she gets like that when she gets scared.”

“I am not scared!” Chloe insisted immediately. “Being scared would imply I thought there was a chance he won’t make it through.  He will.  He will be absolutely fine,” she insisted confidently, pointing her nose up in the air in defiance.

Marinette watched her sympathetically before she pulled her into a hug.  Chloe stood rigid, refusing to show weakness for a moment before she patted her back reluctantly examining her with a disgusted sneer on her face.  “Enough sappy crap.  Get out of here.”  She glared at Roy.  “I expect her to sleep tonight.  Hold her down if you have to.”

“Yes ma’am,” Roy nodded to her.  He grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her toward the exit.

“Hey!” Marinette pulled her hand out of Roy’s and looked back toward the surgical wing doors before looking back at Chloe.  “I didn’t agree to leaving!”

“You are leaving,” Chloe said definitively. “And you are going to get some damned rest, or I will tell everyone that you refused.”  Marinette scowled and set her shoulders at the threat.  She opened her mouth but Chloe cut in first. “You.  Need.  To.  Rest,” she enunciated each word carefully, making sure Marinette heard each word.

“You need to recover.  Adrien would feel worse if he knew you weren’t taking care of yourself,” Nino added in carefully.

“Trust us,” Alya joined in.  “We got this and we got you.  If anything happens, we will make sure your voyage back is as quick as possible.”

“But now, take the bag…” Chloe looked around. “Where’s the bag I told you to bring,” she demanded of Max.

Max motioned toward a bag stored under a chair. Chloe nodded.  “Take the bag.  Take a shower to get the blood out of your hair because, quite frankly, ew, that is utterly unsanitary, put on clothes that aren’t covered in crime scene evidence, and sleep.  And then maybe tomorrow I’ll actually allow you to hug me.”

“You’ll want to be awake when he wakes up, so it would be best to sleep now,” Max added in gently.

Marinette huffed but nodded.  Roy let out a relieved breath and pulled on her hand again. This time, she went readily, but just before they passed through the door, Marinette spun on them.  She pointed her finger at the four of them threateningly.  “The second you hear anything, you call Roy and get me as soon as he wakes up.”

“Oh my God, yes.  That’s what we said.  Get out. You’re annoying.  You’re taking away time from my inquisition,” Chloe snapped. “And I said sleep, Raggedy Andy. I expect her well rested, not just happy.”

Roy coughed to cover his deep blush but nodded in understanding.  “Will do what I can.”

“Damn well better,” Chloe muttered to nobody. She rounded on Conner and fixed him with a formidable glare.  “So, you’re the man who thinks he’s good enough to date my best friend…”

Chapter 31

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark @nerd-nowandforever @queenz-z @crazycryptidgirl @lilfuturescars @corporeal-terrestrial @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #roynette #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #Even the Losers

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:  I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends. 

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased. 

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly. 

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll. 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone. 

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

 Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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

Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times. 

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his. 

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off. 

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it. 

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this. 

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

 And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further. 

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded. 

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!” 

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously. 

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

Taglist: @osterfield-holland-andcompany @giuls-394 @missmulti @hazmyheart @lauras-collection @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @detroitbydark @mcuassemble @blahhhhhhhaaa @lonikje @beiroviski @ruefulposts @desir-ae @kayla-m1996 @unicorn-princess-1999 @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor @whatareyouhidingpeter @when-marvellous-things-happen @mannien @lilostif16 @u-rrose @ninjalex1d  @baby-unidorn @astoldbydanid @honey-sea @fallingforfics @lulueliott24 @mikalakat @babebenhardy @coni-martina @captainemrys @mktravelbuggie @underoosmarvel @pluckypete @hollandfanficlove @lookalivefrosty @lightmelikeacigarette @msmarvel-19  @u-rrose @parker-holland-osterfield @thwip-it-real-good @shirukitsune @justanotherusername80 @dangerdolns @jwolfesblog @jjayyc  @ifilosemyselfagain @axisnpalma @londonspidey @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @bookgirlunicorn @kfcyum @thenoddingbunny-blog @buzzbuzzitsmeagainbitch @herondale-snow-carstairs @marvelobsessedteenager @unlimitedd @dramaholic18 @softholand @panicattheeverywherekid @emotionally-unstable23 @quackeroos @unbelievableholland  @holyhumorliteraturelight  @spideyyeet @katiekinzs  @fanficparker @ifntelyinspirit @rubberducky-jrr @xguardgirlx   @selfcarecap @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @hazardosterfield @xstarbae @justanotherusername80  @photoshopart15 @spiderbibby @the-fandom-life-forever @jannine00742 @spideysimpossiblegirl @parachutepantswedgie-blog @decadentwastelandtrash @anythingthaticareabout @outshineallthestars @captainamirica @thehauntingofmymind @watermelonsponge @sinisterspidey @adayasgeorgia @obliviatevamps @damnrancidchicken @lolooo22 @cocoamoonmalfoy @spideyspeaches @hollandprkr @peachitofu @quacksonholland @itscaminow @ohtobelovedbyyou @diffind0 @tomhollandsslut @chipot-lol s @marvelouspouges @agustdowney @305weasley @youvebeenlizzed   @spidey-sophie​ @azaraspirit​

#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #heyhihellowhatsup0

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Life size mannequin.

Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.

If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.

Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.

“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”

“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”

Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.

“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”

“And?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”

“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”

The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.

“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”

Y/N ignored his smart remark.

“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”

“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”

“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”

“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”

Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.

“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only messing with you—”

“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”

“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”

“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”

“Huh?”

The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.

“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”

Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”

“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”

“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”

Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.

“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”

“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”

“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”

“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”

“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”

“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”

“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.

“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”

“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”

“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”

“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.

“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”

Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.

“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”

“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”

He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.

“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.

“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”

Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.

“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”

“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”

Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.

“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.

“What?” Erik replied.

“Do you mind modeling this for me—”

“See, I knew this shit—”

Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”

Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.

“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”

“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.

“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.

“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.

Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.

“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”

Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.

“What are you doing?!”

Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.

“IM DONE!!!”

“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said

“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.

Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.

“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”

“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.

“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”

“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”

“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”

“Girl, shut up.”

Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen

“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”

“Erik keep still—”

“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”

Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.

“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”

Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.

“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”

“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”

“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.

Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?

“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”

“Then let me see your phone.”

Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.

“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”

It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.

“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”

“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”

“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”

“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”

“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”

“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.

“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”

“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”

Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.

Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?

Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga

Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL

Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!

“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”

“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”

“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”

Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.

“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”

“Then take this off!!”

Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.

“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”

“FINE! Come here.”

Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”

“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.

“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”

“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”

“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”

“.....”

“PLEASE BABY?!!”

“.....”

“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”

“Ahhhhh HELL no—”

“Please—”

“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”

“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”

“Girl, that won’t work on me—”

“You sure about that?”

Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.

“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”

Y/N smiled victoriously.

Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.

“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”

“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”

“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”

Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”

“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”

The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.

“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.

“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.

“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.

#funny #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger

[chaoticdean]

for the prompt: Dean calling Cas his friend even when they’re dating and Cas being confused

[read on ao3]

In a surprising turn of events that may or may not have been prompted by Sam telling them with a cheeky smile that he’s off to see Eileen, Dean and Cas end up having the bunker for themselves for the first time in weeks.

So when Dean wanders into the room he and Cas have been sharing since… Well, since whenever they finally got their shit together, he’s actually surprised to find Cas lying in bed wearing Dean’s sweats and one of his old ratty tee-shirts, so concentrated on the book he’s reading that his brows are furrowed.

It’s infuriating how good he looks. If Dean’s being honest, Castiel always looked like a goddamn model to him even with his ratty trenchcoat and bulky suit on, but ever since he’s started wearing clothes that actually fit him? Clothes that are almost exclusively Dean’s?

Count Dean in as perpetually blown away by his very own boyfriend’s appearance.

(Which in turn gives Sam a reason to run away every once in a while, to Dean’s greatest pleasure.)

“Really? We’ve got the house to ourselves and this is what you choose to do with our free time?” Dean chuckles as he drops on their bed.

Cas doesn’t make a single movement but Dean immediately goes for his warmth as he plasters himself against his side, finding “his” spot in the v-shape of his neck and breathing in. He drops a soft kiss where Castiel’s shoulder meets his neck, smiling when Cas lets out a silent little huff.

“Hey, sexy,” Cas finally says, eyes still on his book but one of his hand carding through the mess of Dean’s hair.

Dean lets out a hilarious huff, because everything about Cas using that phrase is hilarious at best, but Cas actually using this without even batting an eye is peak comedy.

“Hey, grumpy.”

That, at least, has the merit of pulling Cas off his book. He looks down at his boyfriend with the world’s most puzzled gaze Dean has seen in the past three decades, and it does nothing to stop another laugh from getting past the hunter’s lips.

“Why am I “grumpy” in this analogy?” Cas asks, sounding so dramatic that it sends Dean through another wave of laughter. “I’m actually in a very good mood.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you show how good of a mood you’re in, my friend?” Dean asks wiggling his eyebrows, already closing his eyes waiting for the kiss to come.

Which doesn’t come, and when Dean opens his eyes again he’s met with another one of Cas’ bewildered look. He pushes himself up on his elbow then, catching Cas’ gaze and losing himself in the baby blues he loves so much for a little while.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, this time with mild concern because Cas is acting strange now. “I’m just messing with you.”

“I just —,” Cas starts before he stops and looks away, and Dean can’t help but feel a surge of anxiety immediately rising up from his guts.

It’s still new, this thing between them, despite having been there for more than a decade. It’s still new because they’ve only allowed themselves to have it for a few months, and every day Dean has to pinch himself to assure that it’s real.

It’s not always easy.

It’s love and laughs, but it’s also fights and dirty laundry and bed unmade and pizza being shared at 3 am because your former angel of a boyfriend woke up wanting that half-eaten pepperoni special that you didn’t manage to finish earlier in front of yet another cowboy movie.

Dean has never felt this full. But it’s also anxiously waiting for your boyfriend to explain what’s wrong after you’ve made a stupid joke, and Dean kind of hates it right now.

He lets one of his hands wander under Cas’ shirt, fingertips tracing patterns on the skin of his chest.

“You can tell me, Cas.”

“You keep doing that,” Castiel finally says, meeting his eyes again, “Calling me your “friend”, but we have… sexual intercourse every day, sometimes several times a day, I don’t see how that still qualifies me as a “friend”. Do you have sex with all your friends?”

This time Dean can’t resist and literally burst out laughing. When he manages to get his composure back, Cas is still looking at him expectantly waiting for an explanation.

Dean kisses him instead.

It still feels a little bit unreal, being able to lie in bed doing nothing but share shallow kisses with a former angel of the lord. It also feels like riding an actual rainbow, and when Castiel’s arms finally wrap around him and pull him on top of him, Dean smiles wider into the kiss.

They’re allowed that, now. They’re allowed love and sex and all the in-betweens, and Dean loves the in-betweens.

“I only have sex with one of my friend, Cas,” Dean whispers against his boyfriend’s lips. “And it’s you, dumbass.”

“But I thought I was more than a friend?”

Dean sighs, trading another shallow and tender kiss before answering. “Well, here’s the thing, babe. If you aren’t friends with the person you’re in love with, there’s a potential issue here.”

Cas’ brows furrow again, and Dean smiles.

Good lord, he loves him so much that sometimes there’s an ache in his chest when he realizes.

“You’re my best friend. Which means I’m the luckiest guy alive because you’re also my boyfriend.”

Dean fits his lip on Castiel’s again, kissing him gently. Cas huffs into the kiss, still holding on to Dean but apparently still not convinced.

“I still don’t get it, Dean.”

“One doesn’t cancel the other. Actually, it strengthens it.

“But —,”

“Sweetheart, you’re my boyfriend and my best friend and my friend. You’re all of it. And I feel blessed for it.”

Cas finally smiles and there’s something twinkling in the warmth of his eyes as he finally leans in and kisses Dean, all tongue and teeth this time.

When they part, Dean is panting and there’s a cheeky smile spreading on Castiel’s lips.

“What was that for?” Dean asks.

Cas smiles as he drops back on his pillow, his hand behind his head. “Being your lover, your best friend, and your friend.”

“I’ll take that,” Dean smiles into another kiss.

For a little while that’s all there is, kisses and cuddles and sweet words whispered into each other’s mouth.

Until Cas, who apparently cannot let go of anything, chimes in again.

“Do I still need to be Grumpy in your analogy?”

Dean laughs against his lips, dragging his lips over the light stubble on the line of his jaw.

“Would you like it better if I called you Dopey?”

And if there’s anything the past decade taught Dean, it’s that being pressed into the mattress by a very sexy Cas not even 2 minutes after that usually means he did his job well enough.

So maybe switching from Grumpy to Dopey was the trick all along.

— taggy the taglist under the cut; as usual, ask to be added or removed! —

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @dreamnovak • @leftistdean • @aelysianmuse • @cvsnovak • @xcaitlin-mayx • @bakerandcandlestikmaker • @itsalittlebitdarkinhere • @cursed-or-not • @feraladoration

@starrynightdeancas • @tearsofgrace • @galaxymysteryelephant • @50shadesofcockles • @celestialcastiel • @deano-cas • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @castiel-novak15 • @anotherdowneyfan1

@the-pinkglasses • @squintingg • @pluckydean • @dickspeightjrs • @winchester-novak • @fred-deeks-ben • @destielfactory • @mishathemoose • @definenormalifyoucan • @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff

@becky-srs • @jensenacklesruinedmylife • @dea-stiel • @gmos-winter-wonderland • @rai1002 • @leaveitalltohappenstance • @radiantdean • @writtenmemxries • @idaaeri • @mypersonalgoblincave

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you • @longinghestia • @ecbeau • @cloud-dreamer • @updeans • @ideeparanoiche • @not-some-background-noise • @van-dynex • @castiels-handprint • @larissa-2675

@viovhenan • @inexhaustablesourceofmagic • @slipper007 • @queen-rowenas • @winchester-thedate • @seffersonjtarship • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner • @kittykatara22 • @galaxycastiel • @queer-things-do-happen-dean

@anelitefangirl • @destielle • @zindagidobara • @choruscas • @fluffiestlou • @shadowywerewolfqueen • @holmesemrys • @craftywitchywoman • @thefourthheadofcerberus • @trasherasswood

@festivemish • @vinylmendes • @organicpurplepants • @deancasology • @starlightcastiel • @saarahisabels • @starespressos • @lizbennettdarcy • @destiel-bitches • @somberbasket​

@goblinwritergay​ • @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual​ • @sinnabonka​ • @profound-found-family​ • @blue--star​ • @blood-red-bliss​ • @neo-neo-neo​ • @tjfinnigan​ • @chocolatecakecas​ • @nguyenxtrang​

@avidbkwrm​ • @castee-yel​ • @shelton-devers​ • @usually-its-just-subtext​ • @nursemasters​ • @write-nerdy-to-me​• @faithcastiel​ • @one-more-offbeat-anthem​ • @supernaturallygay126​

#idk what the fuck this is #I haven't had coffee yet #I'm sorry that happened? or glad? idk #I HOPE THIS SUITS YOU ANON #dumbass in love #destiel ficlet #jus writes #a tumblr prompts collection

[polishksiezniczka]

Camerlengo Patrick McKenna Smut ABCs | Camerlengo x Female Reader

Some smut for our favorite priest ❤

As I was writing this, I couldn’t help but think that our favorite ~il camerlengo~ shares the trifecta of smut with Obi-Wan Kenobi: religious devotion, dramatic robes and pure, raw sexual energy. 🔥

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Patrick is oh so attentive and considerate. He strokes your body softly, listening as your heartbeats gradually slow and fall in sync together. He’ll softly whisper declarations of love to you in his luscious accent, making you flush even more.

Bonus: When you’re in each other’s arms bathing in the afterglow, he adores it when you carefully play with his crucifix necklace (you better believe he wears it during sex after you *accidentally* let slip how turned on you get when he wears it).

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Patrick loves to hold you using his upper body strength—his arms are deliciously strong and toned, but not in an overly-muscular way. He can’t help but groan and roll his head back when you cling to them for dear life during the throes of passion, your nails lightly digging into his skin.  

It’s difficult for him to choose—you’re too perfect to pick just one element. If he had to, he’d choose your hair, your neck, or your breasts.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Because he was brought up in the Church, he doesn’t really do that sort of thing. Not to mention he views the practice as somewhat degrading to you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs).

Obviously, you. He’s a priest and supposed to be “married” to the Church!

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Patrick is somewhat experienced. While serving in the army he had a few exploits, but he’s still relatively inexperienced. Not that you could ever tell though—he’s the best lover you’ve ever had.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Missionary! (HAHAHA…I’m going to hell for this.)

Patrick loves any sort of position where he’s able to see you fully. He treats sex as if it were a sacred rite: he wants to be able to watch the desire cloud your eyes, thoroughly kiss your soft lips, devour the creamy flesh of your torso, and do nothing less than worship you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It depends on the situation. Patrick will usually take things pretty seriously—intensely pleasuring you, maintaining fervent eye contact, going slow and sensual—but sometimes you find yourselves in a giddy mood, especially after something good has happened to one of you. Then his playful side will come out: little nips at your ears and neck, gentle tickling of your sides, low chuckles, and a lot more teasing than normal. You delight in rendezvous like these, batting your eyes and telling him how much you want him.  

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

OH GOD. You know how well Patrick takes care of himself. His hair is impeccable, always neatly combed and styled. You adore running your fingers through it and lightly scratching his scalp, though you’re careful not to muss it up too much.

The sight of his bare chest makes your heart flutter every time you see it. You love to card your fingers through the lovely patch of curly ginger hair which grows there, a huge turn-on for Patrick. The same hair starts again just below his navel, creeping down his stomach and past his waistband. It’s another part of him that never fails to make you swoon and unconsciously lick your lips.  

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Patrick is so romantic. He constantly whispers you how much he loves you, how much you mean to him, and how he can never be without you. Despite the unimaginable pleasure he provides you, his words sometimes make you teary-eyed during the moment—something you find extremely embarrassing but he adores.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Patrick suffers from SERIOUS Catholic guiltiness when it comes to masturbation. He’s done it before (when he was younger especially) but would never admit so to you. He only resorts to pleasuring himself when you’re apart for extended periods of time and always feels the need to confess to his sins of “taking his flesh” afterward.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise: Patrick’s need to praise you is insatiable and he does it constantly when you’re together. He loves to tell you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how sweet you smell, or how well you respond to him as he leans close to your ear, kissing and sucking. Although he can be reticent to accept compliments himself, you can tell how much it affects him when you whisper how only he can bring you this amount of love, pleasure, and satisfaction.

Priest: Patrick goes mad when you play into your priest kink and loves it when you call him “Father,” especially because you don’t often do so. As gentle as he is, this drives him wild, animalistic almost.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

On the bed or couch, especially with your hair splayed out across a pillow. You recently introduced him to shower sex, something he enjoys far more than he expected to. And of course, always somewhere private.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your soft, innocent touches that lead to lingering thoughts and desires. When you run your hands across his chest and through his hair. Whispering how much you love and want him.

Oddly enough, your modesty also makes him hot under the collar (literally). The idea that you conceal your beautiful figure to others and only allow him to see and adore it awakens a deep and primal lust in Patrick.  

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t swear that often and never uses the Lord’s name in vain. He also would never do anything that could hurt you or in some way degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He strongly prefers to give. He loves to huskily tell you how much you taste like sin when he’s between your thighs and caressing you with his mouth.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual—it’s called lovemaking for a reason.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You and Patrick don’t really engage in these because of the nature of your relationship—there are few moments when you can spend time together during the day. Patrick doesn’t like the idea either, as he can’t properly worship your body as much as he believes you deserve and derives so much pleasure from taking his time with you. He is never one to complain about stolen kisses, though.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Again, due to his position and all the publicity, Patrick prefers to keep risks to a minimum. He never would demand anything of you, but he requests that your liaisons be kept private out of concern for you and your relationship.

Once, however, you admitted a shameful desire of yours, and he gave in. So, late one night you made love in a confessional. Although he felt like he would be cursed with eternal damnation, he couldn’t help but admit how arousing it was.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Patrick’s stamina is intense; he never seems to tire, even after the care and attention he puts into each and every round. You teasingly attribute this voraciousness to all his pent-up lust while in seminary. But when you’re exhausted, he completely respects this and would never push you beyond your physical limits.  

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No; why would he defile perfection by using anything other than his body?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This side of Patrick really comes out when he’s feeling frisky or playful. He relishes that he can turn you into a puddle of goo with just one look—your eyes glaze over, your breath hitches, and you suddenly have difficulty maintaining eye contact. He’ll then begin to touch and kiss you slowly, almost chastely, until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Volume-wise Patrick tends to be on the softer side, though he can surprise you. What he sometimes lacks in volume he makes up for in quality. Patrick makes the most delicious and sinful sounds you can imagine: gasps at your expert ministrations, moans when you kiss him deeply. Your personal favorite? The sound of him purring into your ear as he showers you with praise and words of affection.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The man’s scent alone makes you goddamn feral. It’s clean and masculine, with just a hint of spice. You love to bury your face in his neck and chest, inhaling him as you litter his skin with reminders of your devotion.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Patrick is incredibly well-endowed. In fact the first few times you were together, you were in slight pain (much to Patrick’s agony) and felt sore for days afterward. Oh but Patrick made it all better: drawing you warm baths, scooping you up, and tenderly massaging every inch of your body with his large hands. 😏

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

On the higher end, but it’s completely attached to you.  

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

When you’re in each other’s arms, he feels completely relaxed and can usually fall asleep within a few minutes, but he likes to wait for you drift off to sleep and then silently watch you in your most peaceful state. Your breathing steadies, your brow relaxes, and your hair softly falls about your face, still glowing from physical exertion. As sleep begins to take hold of him, he whispers that you look just like an angel.

Taglist: @seraferna @lemairepstuff

#ewan mcgregor #smut #patrick mckenna #camerlengo #angels and demons #patrick mckenna imagine #forgive me father for i have sinned #obi wan kenobi #ewanfuckinmcgregor #carlo ventresca #obi wan smut

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 9

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINE

For the first time in your life, you awoke in your own pool of sweat and with the fresh thoughts of Bucky as he managed to scoop you up with his strong lean arms and take you right then and there at the kitchen counter in your wild, vivid memory of dreams.

You blamed Nat for this. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't even have inappropriate thoughts towards Bucky. Yes, you did notice his strong masculine exterior, jaw sharp as a killer's knife, body as strong as a boulder, and legs that could easily kill but did you have any thoughts on advancing towards him? No, absolutely not. He was Peter's stepbrother for crying out loud. But last night, something changed in the laws of physics. It was as if two resting bodies silently reacted to one another without a sudden force acting upon the two.

That morning, you didn't dare find out if Bucky was still in your apartment. You skipped your morning run and headed up towards the rooftop using the ladder right outside your window with a hot cup of coffee in your hand (which spilled a bit on the way up, by the way) and enjoyed the scent and sight of the dirtier part of New York City -- all its damp, cigarette covered pavements.

For the next few days, you saw no sign of Bucky. He hadn't been in the bar or in your apartment, as much as you wished he would stop by once in a while. But then, you would hear Peter talk to him on the phone every single night.

You never thought Bucky's lack of presence would start to bother you. It wasn't just the feelings of sudden desire you had for him but also the weird time you shared together -- as if you were just old friends catching up. You found it absolutely crazy how a lot of things just happened in the course of a day.

You wanted to ask Peter about Bucky's whereabouts, just a casual slip of "Hey, where's Bucky?" but you never dared to ask. So when Peter blabbed during a movie night that Bucky had been way too busy managing some business meetings, gatherings, and whatnots ever since he got back in the city, you were more than glad.

Nat had been coming to the bar every night ever since Tuesday, picking up extra shifts. She kept badgering you about Bucky this and Bucky that. She was one of the reasons why you couldn't keep Bucky out of your head. Her sudden long shifts at the bar wasn't only because she was so invested with your nonexistent dating life or, to her, a possibility of one with Bucky, but because she and Steve were secretly hooking up. Of course, she didn't tell you that. It's not like she needed to, anyway. It only took one sniff of Steve's strong scent on hers for you to find out.

Every passing day at the bar felt so slow and the same. The only thing that changed was Peter rejecting a drink on one Thursday night.

"Woah, what got your knickers on a twist?" You asked as soon as he approached the counter.

"I'm just not in the mood, y/n." He sighed. "Can I just have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course. Coming right up." You slid the glass of water on the counter towards him, your fingers drumming against the thick wood. "So, what's bothering you?"

He looked up at you with sulky eyes. "Oh god, you really are a bartender."

"And your best friend. So, what's up?"

He shook his head nothing, sipping the glass of water like a scotch.

His little act was unconvincing. Especially that he didn't try hard enough to conceal whatever he was feeling.

"Parker." You insisted. "Come on, what's up?"

"You see right through me, y/n."

"Don't flatter me too much," you rolled your eyes, "you're just easy to read."

But Peter was also stubborn as a bull. He wouldn't budge or give you any clue on what was bothering him. You thought that leaving him as you tended to other bargoers would eventually give him time to change his mind but you were proven wrong. It itched your brain that he wouldn't tell you whatever it was. You usually told each other everything. But then again, you haven't really been open with him with your growing desire for his stepbrother -- which, you hoped you never would, as you hoped all those feelings would eventually go away and keep it in a state of latency.

Peter stood by his ground, consuming no ounce of alcohol and keeping his mouth shut the rest of the night. You knew when to keep away from other people's business, even if it was your best friend's. You did try to make his evening lighter though, checking up on him and telling some old, classic bartender stories, seeing as he was clearly in an uncomfortable state but all he kept telling you was: "You're killing me, y/n. You're absolutely killing me."

You felt a heavy feeling on your chest with his surprisingly fierce tone. You urged him to go home after that, so he did.

"Dick." You mumbled after he left.

Nick walked towards the counter. "What's wrong with your roommate?"

"Wish I could tell you."

You and Nick have been getting along well despite you rejecting him. Nat kept telling you it was a way of manipulating you or some sort, to get you close to him but nothing has really happened ever since he asked you out. There wasn't a change in mood in the atmosphere, or even the way he treated you. Just some good colleagues working together.

The next night, Peter was more in the mood and even apologized to you for the way he behaved last night. "Now, for some great news."

"Does this mean you're having a drink?" You asked.

He nodded eagerly and patiently waited for his beer. Once he got his cold sip, he continued talking: "So, I've been really in a slump lately because I'm kind of lovesick. But then -- "

"Wait, what did you say?" You knitted your brows together, catching the last word he said. "Did you say lovesick? You son of a bitch, are you in love?"

"Language!" Out of nowhere, Steve yelled over the buzzing noises inside the bar. You snickered and he just gave you a look before he disappeared back into his office.

He is such a grandpa.

Peter chuckled. "To be honest, I have been for a very long time."

Your jaw dropped on the floor, ears all perked up, wanting to hear every detail of this. "And you never thought to tell me? Parker, I've been your best friend since forever. Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, avoiding your stare. "It's not that big a deal."

"Okay, was this after that bitch Denise?"

"Actually, waaaay before that."

"Oh wow, that long, huh?" You replied. "Oh my god, is it someone we know from college? Shit, is it MJ?"

"No, it's not!" He replied. "And I'm not telling you who because I don't have actual plans on pursuing her." He sighed through his nose while taking a big sip of his beer. He brought down the bottle on the counter with a loud thud.

"So, it's a girl."

He grunted in reply.

You laughed. "So, why not pursue her?" You asked while multitasking. You handed a bowl of peanuts to the man beside Peter who was asking for it. "Is she taken? Does she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?"

"No, she doesn't."

"So, why the hell not, Parker?"

You impatiently waited for an answer from Peter as it took him a couple of minutes to do so.

"Because I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think it will ever work." He answered, scratching the label on his beer bottle with much frustration. "I've thought about all the probabilities, but every single one of them ends the same."

"And what is that?"

"That it won't work out."

The thing about Peter was he never dive into things headfirst. Even though he was a dumbass, he was always a man of intellect who calculated everything in his head before committing to something.

"Why is it always statistics and probabilities and all that crap with you?" You let out an exasperated sigh. "What if for once in your life, follow your goddamn heart? You keep treating everything with a business mind. Go with what your gut tells you to do. Don't think too much about it because the heart wants what it wants, Parker."

Peter gazed at you for a few moments, perhaps finding the right words to say but he just shook his head and fought against his feelings. "I can't do it, y/n. I badly want to, like, it's already at the tip of my tongue. I badly want to tell her but I can't. I don't want to know what's gonna happen next. I'm just scared of what's gonna happen. I don't think I can take it."

As much as you wanted to convince him to go for the girl, you let it go. You've said what you had to say but it was always up to him whether he takes your advice or not. "So, what now?"

"Well now, I'm going to tell you the good news, the one you robbed me off when you batted in."

You rolled your eyes. "What's the good news, Parker?"

"Me and my colleagues will go on a corporate retreat for at least a week!"

You raised an eyebrow, writing a confused expression on your face. "How is this good news?"

"I'll be gone for a week, away from the city, away from my love problems and all that. I think it'll be good for me." Then, a smile started to form on his lips. "There, I'll leave all my worries behind."

"Parker, it's just a one-week corporate retreat, not a sabbatical." You grimaced, unimpressed with the whole thing. "You're not gonna get over this thing in just seven days."

"You don't know that." He scoffed. "I'll be a new man once I get back. You'll see."

"Sure." You replied, a hint of sarcasm laced in your tone.

"Oh, one more thing!"

"What, another corporate retreat?" You snickered, amused with all the clever remarks you were throwing at him. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't.

"No!" He gave you a look. "Bucky will look after you while I'm gone!"

Shock crossed your face. "Bucky?"

"Yes, me."

And on cue, a figure emerged behind Peter.

You were so bewildered with Peter's troubles that you hadn't noticed Bucky creeping up towards the counter. He was wearing what seemed like a navy blue tailored Hugo Boss suit, paired with a nice, sleek tie. His whole fit, illuminated by the iridescent lights made his blue eyes pop even more. Like last time, he opened up a button on his waist, tossed the end flaps in the air and sat down beside Peter on a high stool.

Watching him, you could feel the air around you tighten, paired with a clump of saliva caught in your throat. He placed his elbow on top of the counter and tucked his chin on his palm.

"B-bucky," you finally breathed, silently choking up on your own saliva, "hey, it's been quite some time."

"Hello, doll." The vowels on his words seemed to drop, accompanied by that rhythmic sound he usually does when he speaks. Oh god, one day with Bucky and I've already picked up on that, you thought. "Missed me?"

You felt some blood quickly rushing to your cheeks but you played it cool. "Don't flatter yourself, James." You pretended to get quite busy, wiping some clean glass off the counter then faced Peter. "So, what's this thing about Bucky looking after me?"

"Well, I'll be gone. You'll be alone. Bucky will look after you." Peter tried to "expound." "What's not adding up, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes at the two and scoffed, placing the glass on the counter. "No, thanks. It's just one week. I can take care of myself."

It was true. You once spent a two-week vacation all by yourself to California after high school and you came home in New Jersey without a scratch -- like a brand-new car. You walked around the place as if it was your turf, and blended in with the locals while basked in the glorious heat of the California sun.

"Bucky insisted." Peter chimed in defensively.

"Oh. Bucky insisted." You said, your gaze averting to Bucky's eyes. "Again, I appreciate the offer but I can handle myself. I'm not a baby."

Bucky, clearly amused with the whole situation, leaned back with careful eyes fixed on yours. "Come on, y/n, don't you want some company?"

"Aren't you busy with your company?" You retorted.

"Yes, I have been but not anymore." He replied. "Unless something comes up. A week without Peter must be somewhat lonely. Come on," he insisted once again, "it's also for me. It'll give me something to do for a week."

"Wait, what?"

"You guys could get to know each other better and get along!" Peter blurted. "And without me around, Bucky won't have someone to hangout with. Please, y/n? I'd feel so much better."

"Hang out? What are you guys, like sixteen?"

Your mind was still set on Bucky's last choice of words but you saved it for later.

"Pleaaaaseee?"

You sighed, knowing you could never refuse your best friend's pleas. "Fine."

"Great!"

"Just for the record," you said, holding up a finger, "I'm just agreeing because of Peter, not because I can't take care of myself."

Peter rolled his eyes while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, yeah, you're an independent woman. Okay, I gotta take this call. I'll be right back."

And all then there were two: you and Bucky. While making two grasshoppers for a couple of girls who just entered, you could feel Bucky's intense stare towards you. Your mind, clouded with thoughts, wished it could tap into his and take a sly look at what was going on inside.

You locked eyes as soon as you handed the girls their drinks. Bucky wearing such a neat, tailored suit made you forget about all his child-like ways in Peter's countless stories. All you saw was a man favored by all the gods and at the same time sent by the devil to test you in so many ways imaginable. You wondered if he felt the same. Of course, you weren't like him or any other people carved perfectly by the gods, but his vehement stare said otherwise.

"Are you gonna order a drink?" You asked, breaking the silence, and also your train of thoughts.

"No." He replied. "I'm good."

"Okay."

Peter, where the hell are you?

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yes?"

"You look beautiful tonight."

A plain black tank top, paired with some old jeans, minimal makeup and this man just told you that you looked beautiful. "Well not just tonight. You've always been beautiful. I just hope you know that."

"Okay what has gotten into you? You're being... weird."

He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts."

You hummed, a look of confusion spread across your face. "Thank you, I guess. Y-you look good yourself. Very different from when I first met you." You chuckled.

"Well, I was naked the first time we met so yeah."

Peter got back from his phone call and for the whole night, you spent your time working your shift while Bucky and Peter moved on to play some billiards and darts as well. Nat kept shifting her eyes between you and Bucky and you just shrugged her off, flipping your middle finger on her in which she reciprocated.

The next day, Peter was all set for his corporate retreat, surprised he didn't need any help from me at all. You helped him with some of his bags towards the sidewalk ("Jesus, Parker, are you going out of the country?"). While you waited for his Uber to arrive.

"You better take care of yourself, Parker." You said, standing beside him on the side of the street. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Really? I'm gonna miss you too."

"Well, yeah, of course. You're like a little brother to me." You smiled, ruffling his brown locks even though he was taller than you.

He looked down on the pavement with a tight-lipped smile. "Right, right."

Smiling, you grabbed his hand and leaned your head on his surprisingly broad shoulders. "Come on, cheer up. You needed this, right?"

"Yes, I definitely do." He whispered. "More than you know."

A few seconds later, the Uber arrived. Before climbing in the black vehicle, you were pulled into Peter's embrace with a soft, fluttery kiss landing on your forehead. Taken aback, you just smiled at him and watched the car get tinier and tinier as it drove further.

You got back in the apartment and five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Behind it was a smiling Bucky wearing some casual clothes. "Good morning, doll. Missed me?"

You rolled your eyes letting him inside the apartment. Closing the door behind me, you replied: "You've already used that line last night. Pick another one."

"Aw, you haven't heard the rest of it."

You went to the kitchen, grabbed some water from the fridge, and took a drink. "Which is?"

"Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

With unsteady hands, you choked on your water and felt the liquid on your skin as soon as those words left Bucky's mouth. Great now I spilled the drink on my chest.

You turned around only to be faced by Bucky. "Now I gotta what?"

His laughter echoed in the kitchen as he backed away from you. "I'm just messing with you. So, what's for breakfast?"

He left you there standing flabbergasted, with some water dripping down your top and shorts, down to the floor. You bore your eyes into the back of his head as he turned on the television.

Bucky tilted his head towards you, eyed you up and down and finished it with a swipe of his tongue on his lower lip.

Oh, this was going to be a long week.

A long, agonizing week.

#bucky barnes story #bucky story #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james barnes #au #marvel