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disneyprincemuke · 2 months

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how you get the girl * fem!driver

and when logan comes in with a girl on his arm, then what?

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver

notes: hi it was only a kiss was the beginning of the end for my locky soldiers i fear and here u go lOLSIE OXOXOXOOXOOXOXO

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“did you see?”

she tilts her head, turning around with her eyebrows furrowed. liam has walked around the barrier of their garages, sauntering in with his hands behind his back. “seen what?”

liam blinks at her. he purses his lips and shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “nothing.”

“what do you mean?” she laughs, putting her ipad down. “was i supposed to see something? why are you being weird?”

“i think he means logan and his girlfriend walking into the paddocks together.”

just like that, she can almost hear the glass around her shattering. there’s a ringing in her ears and she turns to sebastian with wide eyes and puffy cheeks. “what?”

sebastian blinks at her, his clipboard of data in his hands. “you didn’t know? don’t you guys live together?”

she blinks rapidly, trying to come up with an excuse. truthfully, only 2 people ever found out about the events of new year’s day. one of those was by default, logan’s brother, and she’d pulled liam aside during their team trip to new york to confess and vent about the events of her stay in miami.

liam’s been sworn to the highest level of secrecy, and she’s appreciated the fact that he’s kept his word. he never brings it up unless she does it first.

which isn’t a lot.

“we uh,” she drops her head and turns back to her ipad as she sucks in a deep breath, “we’ve been kinda busy lately. i didn’t know he was seeing somebody now. i was in los angeles for a while during the break.”

“that’s,” sebastian trails off, “odd. is it still weird after what happened in montreal? i thought everything was okay.”

she looks up. “it is! everything is okay! we’ve just been super busy,” she rambles, “you know… i’ve flown around for d&g and a couple of fenty events. haven’t really had the time to sit down and have a chat recently.”

sebastian hums, unsure if he’s fully buying her excuse yet. “i see. have you guys not gone to get ice cream lately?”

she shrugs and points at liam, “our schedules never really line up. sometimes logan is there, but not often. even then, there’s always something more important to talk about than our dating lives.”

liam finally clears his throat, making her eyes snap over to him. “let’s go? we’ve got an interview in a couple of minutes.”

she grins, turning to sebastian. she gives him a quick hug and hangs her head low before she follows liam back into the paddocks. “seriously? i didn’t know logan had a new girlfriend.”

“have you seriously not seen each other that you didn’t know about his new girlfriend?” liam whispers, looking around cautiously to ensure that nobody’s got the chance to eavesdrop on their conversation. he takes a step forward towards her and drops his head. “how do you feel?”

she pouts her bottom lip out with a shrug. “good for him, i guess.”

there’s no way that’s the only thing she has to say, right? “really? you’re okay with this?”

her eyes trail off to the crowd surrounding them, as if to really think over her answer, then turns back to him. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re totally over the fact that you kissed on new year’s?”

“liam,” she scolds through gritted teeth, smacking his arm lightly. “you were sworn to secrecy.”

“i haven’t told anyone,” he throws his arms into the air, “but are you seriously okay with this? it’s just me — you can tell me if it bothers you.”

she tilts her head with a small grin. it’s endearing how liam is double-checking. but it’s been 7 months since they kissed. she’s kind of well over the fact by now. “i’m really okay. i’ve just been super busy. i flew in from los angeles right before touching down here. we haven’t really crossed paths in the apartment lately.”

liam pats her on the shoulder. “okay. but you can tell me anything, okay? don’t keep it in, mate.”

she smiles, “promise.”

max lifts his eyebrows, following the pair that’s just walked past him nonchalantly. his lips part in confusion as he then furrows his eyebrows and turns to the girl now approaching him. “was that logan holding hands with a girl?”

she follows his stare, tilting her head slightly. “yeah. i heard he brought his girlfriend to the race today.”

“you heard?” max scowls. “you didn’t know he had a girlfriend? aren’t you best friends who live together?”

she shrugs, “we haven’t seen each other a ton lately. we’ve been busy in our own right.” she puffs her cheeks out. “why is everyone so baffled that i didn’t know he has a girlfriend? he is a grown man!”

max puts his hands in the air as a small smile stretches his lips. “mate, relax. i was just curious. cause i thought you guys liked each other?”

“that’s crazy. where did you get that from?” she almost wants to laugh if it weren’t for the fact that max hit the jackpot with that guess. she only hoped that her wide eyes and racing heart didn’t give too much away. “he’s my best friend. with a girlfriend or not.”

max gives her a stare, one that tells her that he definitely isn’t buying her bullshit excuse. he lifts an eyebrow at her and sighs audibly. “really? you’re going to keep lying about you guys just being friends?”

she rolls her eyes. “your late-night gaming is taking a toll on you, i believe. you’re seeing things that aren’t there, max.”

“sure,” he snorts. “everyone can tell, by the way. alex, george… we know.”

she tilts her head and bats her eyelashes at him innocently. “i don’t seem to know what you mean.”

“that you and logan, at some point or another, liked each other,” max explains. “it’s only so obvious. mark my words, andretti racing driver, you guys are going to end up together someday be it in the near future or even it takes you years to figure things out.”

“you belong in a mental hospital.”

“rocky!” she feels a hand around her elbow pulling her back immediately, stumbling back a couple of steps with a soft yelp before she feels a hand on her back that steadies her. she knows that hand.

“why did you have to yank me like i’m an animal?” she whines, shaking away logan’s grip on her. “what do you want? i have a team meeting i’m gonna be late for.”

“i want you to meet somebody,” logan grins, stepping aside hesitantly. “ylona — my girlfriend.”

she tilts her head and into focus comes a slightly smaller girl compared to logan. slightly taller than her, tanned skin and the prettiest brown eyes she thinks she’s ever seen. ylona has her hands clasped in front of her shyly with a small and polite smile.

“oh, hi!” she squeals as her arm immediately darts out towards the girl. “i’m so sorry i just only got the chance to meet you now. i’ve been so busy — i’ve been out of the country lately.”

“yeah, i,” ylona laughs sheepishly and takes her hand, “i love your apartment, by the way. there’s no way you’re not an interior designer or something.”

she scrunches her nose. now, how is she supposed to hate someone as soft-spoken and lovely as ylona? she takes a deep breath, subtly looking ylona up and down. she’s just so pretty. “my younger sister actually helped with the apartment. i’d love to hang out with you after the day ends if you guys are joining us for ice cream?”

logan nods, his stare lingering on her in a way that she’s unsure what he’s trying to say to her. “of course. i’m not missing another ice cream night again in my life.”

“good!” she grins, patting his shoulder. “i’ll see you guys around. i’ve got to run.”

“who the hell is that!” alex barges into her room, george following suit as she takes sips from the drink in his hand. “when did logan get a girlfriend?”

she looks up from her phone, baffled at the comfortability that the older drivers have found in her hospitality home. especially her driver’s room. “you know, just because sebastian gives you guys immunity in the andretti hospitality doesn’t mean you should take advantage of it.”

“who is that girl? how did they even meet?”

george points at her beanbag, looking at her innocently as if to ask for permission. she nods and beckons him towards it before turning to alex. “i don’t know. i only just met her today.”

“like it’s so– what? you just met her today?”

“you also just met her today?” george pouts his bottom lip out, unsure if he should be concerned or impressed at logan’s success in hiding a secret from her. “how weird.”

“it’s seriously not that weird! we’re adults with our own lives!” she scoffs, returning her attention to her phone. “she seems lovely if you ask me. very pretty, very polite.”

she’s just opened her phone to send a message when it disappears abruptly, alex taking it into his hands and slipping it into his back pocket. “you’ve got to tell us more. there is no way you found out today like the rest of us peasants.”

she shrugs with a soft laugh. “i really have got no idea when or how they met. i’ve barely hung out with logan since we were in barcelona for the spanish gp. i’ve been frequenting los angeles a lot recently.”

“what are you doing in america instead of oxford with your family?” george scowls. “the fame’s gotten to you, mate.”

she rolls her eyes. “i’ve got sponsorships i need to show up for. seriously, it’s not that serious. logan’s 23 — let him have his girlfriend.”

“she is very quiet too, actually,” alex hums, dropping himself on the bean bag, and squeezing in with george, who scowls and pushes him away slightly to regain his space. “i don’t know. do i like her?”

george furrows his eyebrows. “logan isn’t your best friend. why are you speaking like that about his girlfriend?”

“hey, she’s going to be in the garage for a while. i have to make sure it’s an environment that i feel comfortable in.” alex looks to her for some support. “you get what i mean, right?”

she shrugs. “i guess you have a point. but you know… you can just ignore her if you don’t like her, alex.”

“it’s not the same though,” alex sighs, dropping his hands in his lap. “promise you’ll tell me when you find out more about her?”

“why don’t you just ask logan yourself?” george asks.

“he keeps running away when he sees me,” alex frowns. “i think it’s because i keep asking him if he likes rocky. i guess it’s not a good look if i keep asking that when his girlfriend is around.”

“you twat, why would you ask him that at all?” she scolds, hurling the small stuffed animal next to her towards alex. “such a stupid question to ask!”

alex catches the stuffed animal and chucks it right back at her. “i’m curious! for the record,” he rolls his eyes, “he avoids that question too!”

“that’s just stirring up the pot when you don’t have to, alex!” she hops off her massage table and runs over to where the 2 men are, arm wound back to hit the thai driver. “you’re so annoying! what is your problem?”

“i was curious!” alex screams to defend himself. “if you hit me, i’m telling james and he’ll never let you into our building to see logan.”

“i won’t have to. he’s got ylona now,” she points out before turning on her heel. “do you guys wanna go grab some coffee?”

“i know, i know,” oscar whispers, “it’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? i can’t believe he didn’t tell us.”

lily nods, leaning on the wall of the mclaren’s racing home as they await their friends so they can leave to get some ice cream. “i can’t believe even rocky didn’t know.”

oscar raises his eyebrows in shock. for him to now know, is one thing, but for logan’s literal roommate to not know of ylona’s existence until today? that’s just weird and even borderline off.

from the corner of his eye, he sees the young driver approaching them, typing away on her phone with a small grin on her face. he furrows his eyebrows and hits her gently on the shoulder as she comes to stop in front of them.

“what?”

“you and logan are being so weird lately,” oscar confesses. “seriously. what happened between both of you in the united states?”

she blinks at him. “nothing. we were just busy.”

“not spending valentine’s day together is one thing. but you didn’t even know about his girlfriend? you usually know everything,” oscar whispers, looking over his shoulder to make sure that logan’s not anywhere close to them. “what’s going on?”

“i’ve just been very caught up with my own things lately,” she laughs, putting a hand on oscar and lily’s shoulder. “relax. nothing happened between us.”

but she swears that there are some nights that she can feel logan’s lips on hers. it drives her crazy, actually. “relax. let’s just get ice cream and get to know her. it doesn’t have to be weird.”

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lovelyela · 4 months

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she looks like fun || theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: new years eve party, based on she looks like fun by arctic monkey. part 2 to she's thunderstorms :)

ela’s note: ignore the fact that it takes place on new years eve and we are half way into january LMAOOO. i wanted to use this song cause it was fitting and my friend suggested it :c

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of smoking, oblivious friends to lovers, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, kissing, confessing, kinda cringe? lazy ending (again), mentions of parties, bad attempt at writing british people.

word count: 1.5k

・❥・

7 months, 30 weeks, 212 days, and a couple hours and a few seconds was how long ago you and theo met.

"aye, mate! ready for the party?" mattheo walked out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips while steam flowed out of the shower.

you were throwing a new years eve party for the students at hogwarts who didn't go back home. mattheo and theo were getting ready.

theo's friends had long known about his new liking towards you, if you could call it that.

after the party in may, the two of you became close friends, finding time to study together, hang out, do projects in classes, and more. because of your guys' new memories and stories, he found himself falling for you even more day after day.

"course i am." theo said, scrolling mindlessly on instagram. your 2023 recap post came up on his feed. first, it was a picture of a sunrise, then one of a cheeseburger you had in italy or some other romantic-looking place. swiping more, he saw pictures of you and your friends, your achievements of that year, you with animals, and finally you snowboarding.

he even made the cut with a secretly taken picture of him staring at a thunderstorm with a blunt in his hand from the night you two met.

mattheo quickly got dressed and polished himself up before the two boys walked to the gryffindor common room.

the party hadn't started yet, but theo and a few other slytherin boys were helping you set up final details.

"hey guys!" you greeted mattheo and theo.

enzo was already helping, and draco and blaise went home to their families so it was just the three for now.

theo felt weak in the knees when he saw you. you were all glammed up for the new year, with your hair done nice and a silky emerald green dress to match the color of 2024.

you wore shoes that were much more elegant than the ones you usually wear, but they were still comfortable to dance and be in.

"you look stunning." theo said without much thought, simply just admiring you.

"thank you." you blushed, face heating up under his gaze. what theo didn't know was how you felt the same.

the times he glanced at you from across the room, the times he laughed at all your bad and funny jokes, the times he did little things for you like holding the door open, all those times did not go unnoticed.

he loved you, and the feeling was mutual.

"what can we help with?" mattheo smiled after a few beats of you and theo smiling each other.

"you can help lorenzo, i asked him to put out the snacks and drinks." you pointed to the other boy, who was putting his heart and soul into a cracker and cheese charcuterie board. mattheo went to him, and began pouring different chips into different bowls.

"and you," you focused your attention back to theo, "you can help me put up streamers."

theo smiled and followed you to the staircase, where golden streamers were put up half-way.

"i'll give you 20 galleons if y/l/n and nott get together tonight," enzo grinned at mattheo.

"i doubt it, they're both too shy to actually tell each other about their feelings." mattheo shook his head. "you know i'm always up for a bet though."

everyone saw it. the professors, your friends, even the paintings and ghosts of hogwarts. they all saw the way you and theo looked at each other, the way you two are always together. they've heard both of you talking about one another like you were desperately in love.

they also knew how oblivious the two of you were. how one of you could yell "i love you," in the other's face and brush it off like nothing.

the 4 of you finished the setup at 8:32, the perfect time as the party started at 9. people already started piling in and chatting with each other.

at 11 pm, you poured yourself a tropical drink, and you got onto the dance floor quickly with your friends and a smile on your face.

30 minutes later, theo was alone, watching you subtly from afar. mattheo was finding a girl to kiss for the new year, and enzo was with his girlfriend he met at the party in may, which actually turned out to be one of your best friends. the italian was debating whether or not to go for a smoke break again.

he decided why not, and went to a hallway empty enough. he cracked open the window and sat on the floor.

he pulled out his only blunt and lighter, but before he could even spark the steel box, your voice interrupted yet again.

"you have to stop running from my parties to smoke some weed," you smiled and set your drink on the windowsill before taking a seat in from of theo.

"and you have to stop showing up to my smoke breaks unexpectedly." he scoffed lightheartedly before putting the lighter and blunt next to your drink.

"but you love it when i do that." you frowned jokingly. "do you have another one?"

"no," he sighed, "i should stop smoking so much this new year." he said.

"maybe." you shrugged. "are you having fun?" you questioned, tracing shapes on your knee.

"i always have fun at your parties," he said, "you're lots of fun."

"i'm flattered." you smiled, "did mattheo and enzo ditch you?" you questioned. you saw enzo and mattheo inside, so you could only jump to conclusions.

"not necessarily ditched." he said, "riddle is flirting around and berkshire is with his girlfriend."

"they're cute!" you said, "they're almost at 6 months, right?"

"i think so," theo shrugged. "they're really a good match."

"i wish i had a match like that." you said, "they're so great together, they have each other's humor, they're both loyal and secure, they let each other live their own lives and be independent, they're fun to be around, just like the perfect couple."

theo bit his tongue. he couldn't tell you, he couldn't have you knowing how he felt.

you couldn't know about how you made his day. you couldn't know how your smile or gaze alone made his heart flutter. you couldn't know about how he loved your guys' cloudy day hang outs. you couldn't know how he thought about you every waking second. hell, even when he slept, he dreamt of you. you couldn't know about how he loved sharing every whimsical thought that entered his mind with you. you couldn't know about how much fun he had with you, talking shit about people who did you two dirty and being dickheads. you couldn't know.

"i think we'd be a perfect couple."

shit.

"what?" you were taken aback in the best way possible.

"i meant-" he tried explaining, but just like a cheesy romcom, your best friend, enzo's girlfriend ran outside for you.

"it's agora hills!" she said, taking your hand and pulling you into the room.

theo was speechless, it happened so quick, and your reaction was not promising whatsoever.

he almost started panicking, but he had to clear the air. the secret was out, and even though it might end the friendship, you had to know.

he entered the common room, searching for you in the crowded room. he saw mattheo with some slytherin girl, and enzo was talking to some guys in ravenclaw.

he ignored them and kept looking for you.

the same way he's looked for you his whole life.

agora hills stopped and a minute timer came on, people started cheering and it was evident. 1 minute until the new year.

he finally found you after you emerged from the crowd, you were so happy he was tall enough for you to easily scout him out.

"y/n, let me explain." theo pleaded.

"no need, theo." you smiled.

"30 seconds!" someone said in the crowd.

"i've liked you for so long. since you approached me in may, i was interested in you. i've been falling for you everyday since then. these past 7 months were so fun, and i know it'll fuck our friendship up, but i can't miss this opportunity." he yapped, rushing.

20 seconds.

you smiled, your heart becoming warm after he confessed after nearly half a year of waiting. "theo, i like you too." you said.

"10!"

theo blinked at you, not processing the information.

"9!"

"can i kiss you?" you asked.

"8!"

"what?" he asked back, caught so off guard since he was fully ready to be rejected.

"7!"

"can i kiss you, idiot!?" you smiled again, knowing he thought he was dreaming.

"6!"

the question you asked finally registered in his brain.

"5!"

"..are you sure?" he questioned.

"4!"

"yes, im sure, theo!" your grin grew wider.

"3!"

he smiled from ear to ear, heart fluttering when he realized this was real. you felt the same way.

"2!"

you both leaned in, eager to make you two official.

"1! happy new year!"

and you two kissed. sparks flew and it could be compared to magic.

the two of you pulled away after a few moments, and smiled.

"woah."

・❥・

reblogs, likes, and replies are ALWAYS appreciated <3

dni if you support pro-life, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, sexism or anything along those lines!

#theodore nott x fem!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott x you #slytherin boys x fem!reader #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #theo nott

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xiaq · 1 year

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Part 1 Here

Prompts combined for Pt. 2 are : Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an idiot (affectionate), Wayne Finds Out, and Everyone is Queer Because I Said So.

Wayne Munson knows he’s not the best parental figure. He never liked kids. Never wanted kids. And he nearly said no when the social worker called asking if he wanted to take guardianship of his thirteen-year-old nephew. Because surely there was someone better suited. Except then the social worker told him why Eddie had been removed from his father’s care. About the magazines Eddie’s father had found in Eddie’s backpack that preceded him kicking Eddie out. About the fights Eddie had been getting into at school. About the song lyrics his temporary foster had found in his journal. And suddenly Wayne wasn’t so sure there was a better option. He knew there had to be people more equipped to raise a traumatized queer teenager, but there was no guarantee Eddie would end up with one of them. The opposite was far more likely. Wayne knew firsthand that much of the world was unkind to people like them.

In the years that follow, they don’t talk about it. He figured once he’d won the kid’s trust, Eddie would bring it up in his own time. Or maybe Eddie would ask why Wayne spends a weekend in Indy once a month or maybe ask who he’s spending the weekends with. But somehow those conversations never happen and Wayne doesn’t force them.

It’s not until he finds Steve Fucking Harrington keeping vigil at Eddie’s hospital bedside that he thinks maybe he should have pushed the issue sooner.

Because Harrington looks like he’s been through a war. He’s covered in blood and grime; only his arms, washed to his elbows where he’s holding Eddie’s hand, are clean. He’s looking at Eddie with naked emotion. And, perhaps most damning, he’s wearing Eddie’s battle jacket.

When Wayne enters the room, Harrington startles and says, “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington,” like Wayne and everyone else in Hawkins weren’t already aware of that.

“I know who you are. I know who your father is, too.”

“I’d uh, prefer you didn’t hold that against me.”

Wayne makes no promises. “How do you know Eddie?”

“We’re…friends,” Steve says. There’s a continent of things unsaid behind the word.

“And how are you in his room past visiting hours?”

“I bribed the nurse," he admits. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Well. On that, we’re agreed. But I’m here now. And no offense, kid, but you look like you should be in one of these beds yourself.”

“Yeah. I told them once you got here I’d let them stitch me up. It’s not anything life-threatening.” He says this with the resigned intonation of someone who is familiar with the difference.

What the fuck has Eddie gotten himself involved in?

Harrington stands. It’s a slow, painful, movement, and he only lets go of Eddie’s hand at the last possible second. “Can I—I’d like to come back. After. If you don’t mind.”

Wayne considers him. He considers Eddie’s blood-smeared vest on the kid’s shoulders. He realizes, belatedly, that Eddie’s guitar pick necklace is hanging around Harrington’s bruised throat, the rings usually crammed onto Eddie’s fingers lined up on either side of the pick.

“Sure,” he says. “Be nice to have some company. And you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Harington sighs. “Not sure how much I’m allowed to tell. Or how much you’ll believe. But I can try.”

Wayne takes his place holding Eddie’s hand.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harrington stands in the doorway for more than a minute, just looking, before finally slipping into the hall.

He’s back a few hours later, clearly showered, wrapped in gauze, and wearing the preppiest goddamn outfit. Honestly, Wayne can’t fathom how Eddie and Harrington have anything in common. He’s also still wearing the necklace, though. And when he pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, he removes the necklace and carefully, downright tenderly, returns the rings to Eddie’s fingers. Wayne notices, almost despite himself, that Harrington isn’t just guessing at the placement, either. He knows. So either he’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s fingers––something that, as impossible as it sounds, is starting to seem more and more likely––or he’s particularly observant. And that kind of observance speaks to its own sort of devotion.

Wayne isn’t excited about either of these options.

He’s trying to figure out how to ask if Steve Fucking Harrington is Eddie’s boyfriend without scaring him away when Eddie shifts, which has Wayne and Steve both jumping to their feet.

“Wayne?” he murmurs. And Wayne isn’t one for emotional displays but he finds himself participating in one for the next few minutes nonetheless.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Eddie’s head turns, slow with painkillers, to see Harrington.

“Stevie,” he says, grinning. “Hey. I’m not dead.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Steve chokes out. His hands are fisted under his armpits and he looks about five seconds away from crying. Not that Wayne can judge since he’s more than five seconds into crying.

“What did I tell you, what did you promise?” Harrington snarls.

Eddie’s grin dims. “Not to be a hero. But Dustin––shit. Dustin. Is he...”

“Fine. Sprained ankle. Pissed as hell at you. Everyone else is fine too. Max is down the hall. She has some broken bones but she’ll be alright.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “How did I—“

“We went back for you.”

“We?”

“I,” Harrington grits out. “I went back for you. Thought you were dead. Carried you back anyway. Didn’t realize you were still breathing until we got you in the car. Drove like hell to the hospital.”

And that’s. Well, shit. Apparently, Wayne is going to need to temper his distrust of this particular Harrington. Because it sounds like he saved Eddie’s goddamn life.

“He also refused treatment and waited with you until I got here,” Wayne feels he has to add. “Despite the fact he was bleeding everywhere.”

Eddie glances between them, eyes huge. “Shit. I’m sorry. Hey, no, don’t––”

Steve is crying now, not even trying to hide it, and Eddie holds out a hand, wincing. “Come here, man, I’m fine. Or I’ll probably be fine, right?”

“So says the doctor,” Wayne agrees.

Steve doesn’t need a second invitation.

He all but collapses, carefully, into Eddie’s outstretched arms, and Eddie’s hands bunch into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and he crams his face into Steve’s neck and they’re so––their obvious, desperate, affection for each other is so unapologetic that Wayne has to look away.

It’s not until later, when they’ve hashed out the basics of the insane upside-down phenomenon, that they finally convince Steve to go home and sleep.

He waits ten seconds after the door has closed to exhale, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, kid. I knew you had expensive taste with cigarettes and guitars but this? He’s the closest thing to royalty this town has.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little warble of a laugh. “No. No, no. That’s not—we’re not.”

“What the hell are you then?”

“Friends. Bonded through extreme trauma.”

“But you’d like to be more than friends.”

Eddie looks at him askance “I’ll take what I can get and I won’t ask for more,” he says quietly.

Unfortunately, Wayne is well familiar with that kind of love. He just can’t get Steve’s expression out of his head. The gentle way he’d replaced Eddie’s rings. He doesn’t think Eddie’s interest is as one-sided as Eddie does. But he doesn’t want to meddle. He’s certain they’ll figure themselves out.

Two months later, Wayne is starting to think they’re both idiots. Because half the time when he gets home from his evening bar shift––a new job after the plant disappeared into the fiery abyss––Steve’s BMW is parked down the street and when he cracks Eddie’s bedroom door he finds them cuddled up, asleep. Sometimes he’ll go to rent a movie and Steve will be wearing a shirt that Wayne knows is Eddie’s and half the time when he wakes Eddie up in the mornings he’s wearing a pastel sweater monogrammed with initials that don’t belong to Eddie. He’d think they’re together and keeping it quiet if not for the fact that Eddie is driving him absolutely insane with pining. He’s written three songs about longing and heartbreak in the last two weeks and if Wayne has to listen to one more wailing ballad he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’s walking back from the bar after closing, only a mile from the new fancy trailer the government had installed for them when he passes Harrington’s conspicuous vehicle a few houses down. He sighs. The boy really has no sense of subtly.

He’s expecting to find them, as usual, asleep in a tangle of limbs, except when he reaches the porch stairs, he can hear the boys talking.

He pauses with his hand on the railing.

“What are you doing,” Eddie murmurs, voice just carrying from the open living room window.

“Well. I’d like to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

About damn time, Wayne thinks.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie says. And it’s so quiet, so uncertain, that Wayne is tempted to open the door right then if only to prevent Ed from sounding so broken.

“I can’t be a practice run for you,” Eddie says, “Please. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“A––what the fuck, Eddie.”

“It’s just, I know this is new to you and I’m, obviously, all about exploration and, um, finding yourself. Congratulations. Yay. But I can’t be an experiment. Not with you. I can’t.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Harrington says, voice a little louder than Wayne would prefer, given the circumstances. The trailer park isn’t exactly spacious. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you because I’m in love with you, how could you think—besides. This isn’t that new. I’ve kissed other guys.”

“You’ve what? Who? When?”

“Just. You know. Friends messing around. I didn’t know that made me bisexual until I talked about it with Robin but apparently, I’ve been kinda gay this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. You thought making out with your basketball buddies was…a standard heterosexual pastime?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“What other way is there to say it?”

“Okay,” Steve says, “I already had this conversation with Robin this morning. I don’t need to rehash it again. So I’m a little bit of an idiot. Memo received.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You just found out bisexuality was a thing this morning and now you’re here, what, asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. Ideally.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you.” Eddie sounds disgustingly fond.

“Eddie. I just said I love you.”

“You did,” Eddie says, high and cracked. “You did say that.”

“So if we could refocus.”

“Right.”

“I don’t expect you to say it back, but––”

“God, you really are an idiot. Of course I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then that’s––well, that’s probably his nephew getting his first kiss from Steve Fucking Harrington.

Wayne decides to give them to a count of thirty before interrupting, but just as he’s about to stomp his way up the stairs, Eddie says, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, no. It’s ok. Neither have I, really. But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you right now,” Steve says.

“I meant kissing. Hold on, does that mean you would be willing to fuck me later?”

Wayne winces. There are things he does not need to hear come out of his nephew’s mouth.

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, “You’ve never been kissed before? How is that possible?”

“Who would have kissed me?” Eddie hisses, “ I’m the town pariah. And until I met Robin I didn’t know any other queer people existed in Hawkins. Though apparently, I should have just joined the basketball team since you’re having orgies or whatever.”

“The first two were on the swim team,” Steve says.

“First two. How many were there?”

Steve ignores him. “And that wasn’t––you’re so hot, though. And your band has played in bigger cities. Haven’t you ever gone up to Indy to any of the bars there?”

“I need you to understand,” Eddie says, “that I am 90% bravado and 100% anxiety.”

“That’s not how percentages work.”

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Okay. Well, if this is your first kiss then I better make it good, huh?”

“Yes. That is absolutely the burden placed upon your capable shoulders should you choose to––oh.”

Eddie stops talking and doesn’t start again, though he does make a breathy little noise that Wayne takes as his cue.

He stomps up the stairs as loudly as possible, fumbling longer than necessary with the door handle, and pushes his way inside.

The boys are both shirtless, clearly in the process of shoving themselves away from each other. Eddie’s face is pink and his lips are kiss-swollen and Harrington’s back has a set of welted scratches on it that Wayne imagines are a perfect match for Eddie’s fingers.

“Well, shit,” Wayne says. He definitely should have opened the door sooner.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Eddie says.

“What the fuck else what it be?” Steve says, only sounding a little hysterical.

Except then the kid is pushing Eddie behind him and squaring up to Wayne with his jaw clenched and his head high, the discolored ring around his neck, still not yet healed, the scars down his belly, on display. Wayne is well-acquainted with the nuance of a man posturing versus a man who would gladly throw himself into a fight, even one he’s not certain he’d win. Steve Harrington is indisputably the latter.

Wayne can’t decide if he’s offended or endeared.

“Stand down, kid, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“That is…extremely apparent.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “It’s ok. He knows. Or. We’ve never really talked about it but.” He meets Wayne’s eyes. “He knows. It’s ok.”

Eddie pushes around him, stepping into Wayne’s open arms.

Steve watches distrustfully as Wayne wraps Eddie in a hug.

“You’re both safe here,” he says. Mostly to Steve, since he’s the one who needs to hear it. “And I’ll call up my boyfriend in Indy and have him vouch for me if you don’t believe me.”

Harrington’s expression is just as magnificent as Wayne hoped it would be.

“Your what?” Eddie shrieks.

Part 3 Here.

On AO3 Here.

Tempted to do one more from one of the kid's POVs when the kids find out. Thoughts?

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #myfic #mywriting #stranger things

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celandeline · 6 months

Text

in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 2

the brainrot only increases day by day. i want to be them. i want to fuck them. i cannot decide which one of those options i want to do more. anyways, here's part 2. thanks for all the love and support on part 1!

word count: 1874

previous part // next part

You ended up texting with Jordan for most of the night, smiling and giggling to yourself as your roommates slept across the room, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. It was hard though - with every text you found yourself more and more enthralled with Jordan. Everything about them, their sense of humor, their obvious intelligence, the way that they blended flirting with casual conversation, just made you like them more. And the fact that you couldn’t read their thoughts over text only added to the experience. Made it authentic - what were they thinking about right now? You couldn’t know. It was intoxicating.

Around three in the morning, when you were finally ready to pass out, you made plans to hit the gym together tomorrow.

Which is why you loiter in front of the gym now, checking and re-checking your phone to see if they’ve texted you again. It’s 1:57, three minutes before you said you would meet up, though you’ve been waiting for at least five minutes more. Anxious. Excited. Thinking about them already.

…be perfectly fine, you’ve got this. It’s not even like a real date or anything, you’re just hitting the gym. Casually. Casual. Okay. Oh, fuck okay. Wow. You look really good in workout gear.

You pick up on their thoughts before you see them, just as anxious and excited as your own. Turning, you smile as they come into view, today in their masculine form, dressed in a loose tank top and baggy sweatpants. “Hi Jordan.”

“Hi.” They say, a smile stretching across their lips. “You look nice.”

“You said.” You say. “Or, thought, rather.”

Right. You’re in my head now, shit. Different than text. “Still thought I should say it out loud.” They say with a shrug.

“I appreciate it.” You say, and you do. It isn’t often that people take to repeating what they’re thinking in speech once they learn you can hear their thoughts.

For a moment, the air is silent between the two of you and you simply look at each other. They really are pretty - you could fall into those chocolate eyes and never be able to find your way out. And their hair, you so desperately want to run your fingers through it, it looks so silky smooth.

You smile as Jordan’s thoughts - much the same as your own - run through your head. You’re so fucking pretty its unreal. I can’t believe you said yes to hanging out. I can’t believe we spent all night texting each other - when was the last time I did that? Like highschool probably. I need to pump the breaks dude fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry.

“You don’t have to apologize-” You start.

“I know, it’s just- I’m not used to it yet.” They say, pulling open the door to the gym for you.

You walk inside, hit by the smell of sweat and rubber and the metallic tang of blood all at once. The sounds of working out - machinery clanging, grunting, screams of pain, echo around the place mixing together with the generic pop music playing over the gym speakers. You hover near the entrance, waiting for Jordan to take the lead.

“I, um, took the liberty of reserving a sparring room for us.” They say, voice raised a little over the din. “We don’t have to though - I mean, that’s just usually what I do to work out.” No pressure if you don’t want to touch me. I didn’t mean it like that - you already know.

“Sparring’s fine, yeah.” You say. “Thanks for getting a room.”

“‘Course.” Jordan says, starting towards the back of the gym, where the sparring rooms are located. You follow in their wake, passing hordes of your sweaty peers, all focused on bettering themselves. It is easy to tune out the telepathic chatter when you are inclined to focus on Jordan anyway.

It isn’t a far walk to the sparring rooms, and Jordan pulls open the door to room five, holding it open for you to walk in. Like the rest of the sparring rooms, it’s completely padded - ceiling and all - to minimize the amount of damage students would do to each other. A circle is drawn out on the center of the floor, a boundary to use for a more traditional match. You drop your gym bag near the door, and turn to Jordan.

“So what rules do you usually go by?” You ask.

“Hand to hand only, no powers if you can help it but I guess since you can’t really turn yours off don’t worry about that.” They say. “Uh, we can use the circle if you want but usually me and whoever I’m sparring with just go until someone’s pinned.”

“That sounds fine to me.” You say. “And since I can’t not use my powers, I think you should be able to use yours too. Just to be fair.”

Jordan purses their lips. I would throw you through these walls with my energy blasts. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” You say. And then, planting your voice in their head, “I trust you to be gentle with me.”

Jordan’s cheeks tint red. “Okay.” They clear their throat, and set their own gym bag down. “Stretch first?”

You stretch together, working through most of the usual positions and then some that you hadn’t heard of before at Jordan’s prompting. Now, feeling nice and limber, you stand in the center of the room, across from Jordan, your fists raised in front of you, ready to strike. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Jordan raises their own fists, adjusting their stance. For a moment, everything is still.

You know they’re going to move before they do it.

Jordan lunges forward, but you’re already darting back, finely tuned into their thoughts, able to counter every move they make before they’ve even finished deciding to do it. When you’d first arrived at GodU, people had underestimated you, thinking your power couldn’t be practically applied in combat situations. How wrong they were.

Yeah I figured as much. Jordan, unsurprised, changes forms, trying again to land a hit now in their more lithe female body. Still, you’re able to stay one step ahead, dodging the moment they begin to swing, darting back as soon as they lift their foot from the mat to kick at you. You take the opportunity to land a sharp hit on their side, right between two of their ribs, and then another in the center of their stomach.

Damn, okay Y/N, packing a punch. Jordan groans, but doesn’t stop, instead doing their best to return the hits. You dart away again - keeping yourself one step ahead and an arm’s length away.

It goes like that for a while - you, carefully in tune with Jordan’s every move, and Jordan, growing more and more frustrated as they fail time and time again to land a punch. It’s fun, listening to their thoughts grow more and more frantic, strategizing and re-strategizing ways to knock you off your guard, and you find yourself biting back a smile, not wanting to infuriate them further. You’re winning without a doubt, until-

Is this what it’s going to be like when we fuck?

Jordan’s thought throws you off your rhythm, and you falter, their fist breezing past your face as you barely move away in time. They grin, and you hear their voice in your head; what? I thought you were used to that sort of thing?

It’s true, you had told them that it happened more often than you liked to admit - and it did, but never in a situation like this. In a fight, most people were focused on well… the fight. Not…

God, your shoulders look so good in that shirt. You should get more shirts like that. I want to sink my teeth into your muscles.

Jordan throws another punch, and you only narrowly dodge it again, doing your best to ignore the way they’re thinking about you. It’s hard though, when you’re so focused on their thoughts anyway to try and keep ahead of their punches. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

It all comes to a head when Jordan actually lands a hit on you because you were distracted by the image of you and them, pressed against the lockers of the locker room, making out with furious intensity. There was a quality to the thought that made you think it wasn’t the first time Jordan had conjured this image - but it was the sharp change in focus that actually made you falter.

Jordan lands one hit, and then their hand wraps around your arm. Before you can wiggle free, they shift into their male form, grip tightening. I’m going to throw you to the floor.

If it had been anyone else, the thought would have sparked fear. But instead, excitement swirls in your stomach.

As gently as someone can throw someone else to the ground, Jordan flips you. You land on your back against the cushioned floor, the impact radiating through your whole body. Before you can scramble back to your feet, Jordan - still masculine and therefore immovable - pins you down, almost laying on top of you.

“I win.” They say, lips only inches from yours. I could kiss you right now. Would you let me? You don’t have to.

You press your lips together, fighting off a smile as you pretend to struggle in their grip. “Fine you win. What kind of prize do you want?”

“Don’t tempt me.” They say, eyes darkening as their pupils widen ever so slightly. Fuck. Do you mean that?

You smile, and wind your thoughts into theirs. You don’t get to fuck me - not yet anyway - but I’ll kiss you if you still want it.

The second the thought registers, Jordan is pressing their lips to yours, roughly, hungrily, like they’ve been waiting. You know they’ve been waiting - you can feel it in their thoughts, in the way that they run a hand down your side like if they stop touching you you’ll disappear. As soon as you feel them let their guard down, you flip the both of you over, giving yourself a turn to hover over them.

Their eyes widen as you break the kiss to start leaving little kisses along their jaw, working towards their neck. Oh fuck. You can’t- you said we can’t fuck right now, you cant start kissing me there- fuck. I can’t fight this boner-

They shift under you, reverting back into their female form. You take it in stride, still continuing your path to the sweet spot beneath their ear. You suck hard on the delicate skin once you land, and they groan deep in their throat, pushing their chest up against yours as their eyes roll into their head. You pull back to enjoy their reaction, and when they open their eyes again, you smile.

“I wouldn’t have been offended by a boner, you didn’t have to switch to hide it.” You say.

Jordan smiles. “Habit, sorry.” They pause. “Um.” I need to go home and jerk off. Like right now. Sorry. “We should do this again, sometime.”

You roll off of them, smiling as you plop down on the matted floor. “For sure.”

#gen v #jordan li #derek luh #london thor #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader

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strniohoeee · 2 months

Text

Hidden In The Shadows Pt. 3

Read part 1 and part 2 here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: It’s been a month and all Y/N keeps hitting is dead end after dead end. Not only that but she seems to have formed a friendship with the strange boy. Will this hinder her research??

Warnings⚠️: Nothing really tbh, anxiety inducing parts, talks of cults briefly, psycho Matt, oh and one last thing SMUT, submissive-ish Matt??

Songs for imagine: Lonesome Town- Ricky Nelson and This Haunted House- Loretta Lynn

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @lacysturniolo @franticroads @creamoncreamoncream2 @melanch0lybby @anlqq @cindylcuwho @nicksmainbitch @riverwritez @s7urnfilms (idk I might’ve missed some people🥺)

There’s a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles

And they call it Lonesome Town

Where the broken hearts stay

The rain trickled down the window as the pen in my hand ghosted over the papers scattered all over the small desk. My eyes glued to the rain, watching the dirt become mud and the grass drown.

Vigorously tapping the pen back and forth on the paper clad desk as my leg bounced quickly. Many thoughts running through my head, but none that could be placed properly.

I was a full month into my research and for some reason I was way more confused now than before stepping foot into this town. I thought I found out a lot more, but it’s either dead ends or more weird shit going on.

I was pretty much hanging out with Matt everyday, it took a while for his parents to warm up to me; but the more he brought me around the more they got comfortable.

What royally sucked was that I was becoming so close to them that I felt weird asking any questions about the dark history of this town. I truly felt bad and like I was hiding something from them.

Professor Wayne wrote to me pretty much everyday, and all I could tell him was how nervous I was to dig further. Scared to unearth something that might actually keep me trapped here.

Letting out a long sigh I slid back from the desk letting out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Slipping my slippers on, I shuffled down to the kitchen.

Opting once again for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some water and some leftover popcorn from the previous night.

Sitting alone in silence at the table I let my mind wander. Glancing over at the back door as the rain pattered against it. I was feeling pretty useless right about now.

It’s so crazy how you can go from feeling invincible to pretty much a useless piece of shit. I felt like I had no purpose here. Endlessly wasting my time day in and day out.

I wasn’t sure if it was the shitty weather that made me feel this way, or if I was actually wasting my time. Rolling my eyes I took another bite of my sandwich. Blinking slowly as I chewed the thick piece that was in my mouth.

I used this time to look around the kitchen. I mean this was in fact an old house with…. I’m to presume many previous owners. Smiling gently my brain painted the image of an innocent family spending their holidays in this kitchen. Laughing, feasting, talking…. It’s so crazy how things come and go, including people.

My eyes scanned in front of me, and it was only then that I saw the gold reflection of a doorknob. My eyes lit up! How did I forget about the basement? A whole month here and I never once thought to check the basement.

Washing down the last bit of my sandwich with my water I placed my dishes in the sink before walking over to the door.

Grabbing the door knob I twisted and pulled, but to my surprise I was shocked by a thud. The door was locked. Shaking my head I walked over to the kitchen light switch flicking it on and I walked back over to the door.

My eyes squinted once I saw that not only was the door locked but the whole door had been painted over. A shitty light green might I add. It’s like when you move into an old apartment and maintenance repaints but they painted over light switches, the breaker box and even bugs….

“Ughhh everytime I think I find something it’s another dead end” I say out loud banging a flat hand against the door

But then I figured I could ask Matt to somehow break this door down for me. Sighing I dragged my feet back to the kitchen table sinking into the wooden chair. I threw my head back and groaned, rubbing my hands over my face

My head shot up as I looked at the kitchen walls…. That same shitty green color. My brows immediately furrowed and my back straightened.

To the naked eye this seems normal, but I remembered something. The listing didn’t show the kitchen being this color.

Scooting back harshly I bolted up the stairs rounding the corner as I ran into my room. Breathing heavy as I opened safari on my laptop.

Opening Zillow I went to the listing for this house, my eyes scanned the page before getting to the end.

“Last updated by realtor on 05/13/2023”

Rummaging through the papers on my desk I found my phone, opening up the phone calls I went back to May. I called Beaufort on May 16th…..3 days after the pictures were updated on the house.

Two and a half weeks is more than enough time to paint evidence over…. Especially incriminating evidence. I swear the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.

Opening a new tab I decided to search up this address and literally the only thing that came up was the Zillow page. This house is so fucking old and not a single thing pops up on it. The next best place would be the public library and lord knows if some weird shit went on in this house all those files would be burned or blocked out on the database.

Slamming my laptop screen down I ran my hands through my hair. I opted to go back downstairs. Swinging every drawer and cabinet door open in hopes I’d find the basement door key.

No surprise I didn’t find it, but I decided to take a knife and cut through the paint like that one scene in Coraline. And to make it even creepier I’m sure my fate would be ending up like poor Coraline….

Pulling and rattling at the door knob some more, I kicked the door once I realized I couldn’t get it open. And this wasn’t something I could go to Beaufort with….. I probably shouldn’t even be going to Matt with this, but whatever.

Feeling defeated, I decided to shower and relax for a bit. About two hours later my phone rang, and it was Matt calling from his bedroom phone. Can’t believe this guy still has a landline…. They really live like it’s the 80s here.

“Hello Matt” I said placing the phone to my ear

“Hi darling” he says on the other line, playfully rolling my eyes at the pet name

“You rang?” I asked as I looked at my nails

“Ahh yes, well you see I’m actually relatively bored this fine evening. Want to hang out?” He asked me

“I’m pretty bored myself. I’d love to hang out” I said as I sat up

“Alright sweetheart I’ll be over in like an hour, sounds good?” He asked me

“Yeah sounds great” I stated to him

Matt was so funny and awkward you could tell he didn’t really speak to girls because he didn’t even know how to end a call. He’d just hang up and I’d usually crack up laughing as I shook my head.

I decided to clean up my room. Hiding my paperwork and laptop under the bed. Thank god there was a skirting around it to hide everything or else I’d be royally screwed.

Sitting at my desk I saw Matt flicked his bedroom light to let me know he was coming over. I got up from my seat and headed downstairs. I held the door open as Matt made a run for it in the rain.

“FAST FAST” I yelled to him as he hopped onto the porch

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there” he said slipping his boots off at the front door

“Ew…you talk so old southern style” I said scrunching my nose up

“Well…” he said cocking his eyebrows at me while pointing down his body

“Sorry! Sometimes I forget you really are southern” I said laughing

“It’s alright darling, hope you’re hungry I brought dinner” he said holding up a huge lunch box.

“I actually am” I said nodding my head as we made our way to the kitchen table

“Okay so mama made her famous roast, with some carrots, corn and grilled potatoes” he said as he pulled the Tupperware out of the lunch box

“That sounds sooo good, tell your mom I said thank you” I told him

“Will do little lady” he said winking at me

I grabbed us some soda as he set our dishes out full of food. As we sat eating quietly he gaze often jumped over mine whenever he saw me look at him. I found it adorable…he was so nervous.

“I hope I didn’t put your mom out, you know like having her make extra food for me” I said cutting some meat

“Oh no, no worries…. You see mama thinks…. Well mama thinks we’re more than….more than just friends” he replies getting a bit shy and blushing

“Oh.. have you never brought a girl home before?” I asked, mentally smacking myself in the face for asking such a rude question

“Not since little suzie….but we were like 9. Swore we was gonna grow up, get married, have a family” he said giggling a bit

“And what happened to that?” I asked him

“Ahh her family decided to move right before high school started…never saw her again” he says swallowing thickly as he blinked rapidly

“I’m sorry Matt” I said taking a sip of my drink

“Oh it’s alright, it was just a foolish thing to think” he says laughing

“Since her…has there been no one else?” I asked him

“No. There’s no real time for that round these parts either you grow up as neighbors and end up marrying or you stay solo forever” he says shrugging his shoulders

“Seems a bit outdated” I replied back

“It is, but it's just the way it is” he says back

“But anyways, how are you liking Oklahoma so far?” He asks me as he sips his drink

“Other than missing my family and friends, I’m thoroughly enjoying it here” I said to him

“Do you plan on going back? Or having them visit?” He retorts

“I was thinking maybe for the holiday season they could come here, there’s plenty of room here for them” I said to him

“Yeah there is” he says nodding his head

“And speaking of plenty of space I remembered there’s a basement here. I can probably set a few friends up down there, except there’s one problem” I replied looking over my shoulder at the door

“What’s that?” He asks eagerly

“It seems to be locked and I can’t find the key, do you think there’d be an extra somewhere in this town?” I said looking back at him

“Oh you know the basement keys are universal, way back when they figured as a small town it would be easier to make the keys universal so if someone lost theirs then they could call their neighbors” he says as he cuts a piece of meat, as I began to have a lightbulb moment

“You don’t say” I reply sliding my tongue over my teeth

“Except only issue is as of recently due to termites and water damage the chairman’s from the towns had gone into every home, painting over the doors and locking them while also confiscating any keys. Just so that no ones tempted to use the basement…..that would be many lawsuits if something went wrong” he says looking up at me

“Ohhhh I see, wow that sucks” I said to him, mentally sighing in defeat. I literally could not stop hitting dead ends and it was killing me

After dinner Matt had helped me clean the kitchen up and helped me pack his mothers Tupperware away.

“I can’t thank you enough for dinner” I say handing him the last container

“It’s my pleasure darling” he says winking once again at me

“Wanna come up to my room?” I asked him as I dried my hands

“Yeah sure” he replied placing the lunch box down

We headed up to my room, turning the light on Matt plopped down on my bed letting out a loud sigh. Fluffing my pillow up he laid it against the headboard while leaning back

“I know I don’t have much here especially no TV, but I do have some books I bought from back home” I say to him shrugging my shoulders

“I wouldn’t mind reading” he says nodding his head

As I open my mouth to reply the power suddenly goes out

“What the fuck” I say out loud

“Anytime it rains even an ounce the power goes out. Faulty wires and old houses” Matt says laughing

“How do we fix it?” I asked him

“We don’t, it usually goes back up in like 3 hours. I’ll run to my house and grab some candles keep it bright until the power goes back on, and I’ll even keep you company too” he says smiling at me

“That sounds nice” I say to him nodding

As quickly as Matt left to get some candles, it was as quickly as he came back. He had a small duffle bag and he pulled out many candles and a box of matches.

Removing his sweater and placing it down to dry on the door knob, my eyes couldn’t peel away from how nicely that white shirt sat on his body….

Matt and I lit a shit ton of matches all over my room, it was now warm lit and very…..intimate might I add.

“I hope this is good enough for you” Matt says blowing out the last match

“Oh no this is perfect I honestly prefer candlight over artificial light” I said waving him off

He laughed and fluffed the pillow up before laying on my bed again. Propping himself up against my headboard as he crossed his legs over.

I sat next to him with my back against the headboard as well. Grabbing my copy of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson I relaxed my shoulders before opening the book to where I last left off.

“I hope you don’t mind I started the book already” I said looking over at Matt

“Doesn’t bother me” he says nodding for me to go on

“My room belongs to an alien. It is a postcard of who I was in fifth grade. I went through a demented phase when I thought that roses should cover everything and pink was a great color” I read aloud as my finger ghosted the rough paper

Stopping I looked up, taking my bottom lip into my mouth and sinking my teeth into the flesh.

“Isn’t it crazy how fast we change” I said chewing the already shredded skin on the inside of my mouth

“I’m not even sure I know what change is” Matt whispers

Looking over at him I watch the warm light reflect against his blue eyes. And for a split second I swear I can see his past in them. Sad….lonely….misunderstood…..

“I’m just following the norm here. I’m becoming what every man becomes. I’m growing, but am I changing? I’m not when I’m the exact same as the ancestors who came before me” he states swallowing thickly

“Have you ever considered leaving?” I ask him

“And go where?” He asks

“You could always come to Vegas….with me” I state in a whisper

“But all I know is Pleasant Town” he replies shaking his head

“Well now you know me, I mean we could at least visit I can show you where I’m from like you did with me” I say smiling at him

“I’d like that a lot actually” he says nodding at me

But suddenly he grows cold and immediately his attitude changes

“That’s just a fairytale though. I belong here on the farm and taking care of my parents” he says firmly

“And no one’s saying you can’t do that, but at least vacation for a little bit” I say to him

Shutting my book I place it on the night stand as I give Matt my full attention.

“You can experience so many new things! See and do things you’ve never done before” I say to him tapping him on his knee

“Like what?” He asks laughing

“You can go to the Las Vegas strip, we can go shopping and we can go see where Elvis Presley used to perform, shit we could even get you a one night stand. I mean it’s Vegas you know what they say… what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” I say to him giggling

“Ehhhh” he says sounding hesitant

“Okay what about that plan do you not want to do?” I ask him

“The one night stand…. I’m not experienced with women” he says shyly

“What? You? You’re telling me in this whole town you’ve never been with a single girl?” I asked him genuinely shocked

“No…” he says once again shyly

“That’s alright, well let’s see you’ve at least kissed a girl right?” I ask him as he shakes his head no

“Held hands?” I asked raising my eyebrow and he shakes his head no once again

“Uhhh innocent flirting?” I ask

“No” he says laughing a bit

“That’s alright! We can…we can get you practicing now and this way you’ll be a champ in Vegas” I say laughing

“Practice?” He asks looking a bit unsure

I grab his hand and interlock our fingers as I look back up at him

“Holding hands… check!” I say smiling

Turning more towards him I place my hand on his cheek as I look into his eyes

“Can I kiss you?” I ask genuinely

“Yes ma'am” he whispers out breathlessly against me

Leaning in I peck his lips quickly

“What I did you’re also going to do okay?” I say to him and he nods

Leaning in again we both press our lips together, pulling away Matt looks at me before attaching his lips to mine again.

Shuffling over I straddled his lap as we pulled away, and Matt looked at me with doe eyes as his chest rose and fell rapidly. A dazzling blush across his nose and cheeks and pupils blown wide.

“Is this okay?” I ask him and to this he nods

“Darlin I don’t know what I’m doing, but just know I’m enjoying myself” he says to me as he licks his lips

“I can teach you some things, and don’t be afraid to stop me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to” I say to him

“Okay” he says nodding vigorously

Removing my shirt I look over to Matt

“You can touch me you know” I say to him

“I don’t know how” he replied back

Grabbing his hands I placed them on my breast and his mouth hung open. Gently caressing them I moan against his touch.

It wasn’t long before Matt’s shirt was off and I was peppering kisses along his neck and down his chest. My bare chest against his warm skin. His breathing became rapid as his hands traced along my back.

“Please don’t stop” he breathes out as I look up at him

Raking my nails up and down his body I leave open mouth kisses along his warm skin as his hips buckle up against me.

“Pretty girl I need more” Matt moans out as his brows furrowed

Letting my hand caress over his growing bulge his hips fly up as he moans. Covering his face in the crook of his elbow.

“You don’t have to cover yourself for me” I say to him as I rub my hands up his torso

“I’ve just never done anything like this before I don’t want to embarrass myself” he says to me

“Listen my love I’m taking the lead tonight so there’s no need to feel pressured or embarrassed, and if at any point you want to stop we can” I say to him kissing his cheek

“Okay” he says swallowing thickly

Ghosting my fingers over his large buckle I unhook his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. I help him slide out of his jeans. Tossing them somewhere behind me on the floor

To my surprise he was in briefs rather than boxers which left little to the imagination. My cunt was actually clenching on nothing at the sight.

Ghosting my nails in between the waistband of his underwear. He lied against the mattress moaning and twitching. Begging to be released

Sliding out of my bottoms I straddled him once again. The only thing separating us was our underwear. Sliding up and down against him we both let out a load sigh

“Holy shit this feels so good darlin” he moans out looking up at me

Matt moves his hands up my thighs and to my breasts, lightly squeezing them as I moan and shutter against his touch.

“Kiss me please” he says desperately

Leaning down I kiss Matt, grinding down against him harder causing him to open his mouth. Which allowed me to slip my tongue in. For a moment it took him a while to get the hang of it, but soon after our tongues were fighting for dominance. The kiss was hot and messy and so so needy.

Releasing myself from him I leaned back, scooting back I slid his briefs down. His hard dick springing up as I bit my lip

“God you’re so hot” I said to him

“Oh sweetheart no one’s ever called me that” he says biting his lip

“I’ll scream it from the hilltops if I have to” I responded to him

Sliding my underwear to the side I gently rubbed the tip of his dick along my cunt. Both of our moans syncing together.

“Are you ready?” I ask him

“Yes maam” he says back grabbing onto my hips

Slowly I began to sink down on his length. The burn sent shivers up my spine. Both of our mouths hang open as my toes curl. Completely bottoming out I let out a load moan

Slowly bouncing up and down on his dick I allow him to get adjusted to the feeling.

“Holy shit Oh my god” he moans out as he watches me bounce up and down

“You feel so good” I moan out as I begin to grind down on him

“Oh my goddd” he whines out as I begin to feel his thighs shake

Bringing my hand down I rub my clit as I bounce on his dick. My thighs shake as I bring myself closer to the edge.

“Fuck Matt I’m so close to cumming” I whine out as my breathing becomes heavy

“Me too, oh godddd” he moans out as his torso begins to lift off the bed every now and then

Leaning forward I grind up and down, allowing my clit to massage against his pelvic bone. Without warning Matt opens his mouth and begins to swirl his tongue around my nipple, sucking and licking like his life depended on it

“Fuckkkk” I moan out clenching down on him

Within seconds I’m cumming all over his dick, shaking and moaning as I clench down on him. Continuing to ride out my high I feel Matt twitch

“I think I’m going to cum?” He moans out

Once again I feel his thighs shake and his lower abdomen tighten. And I hop off and just as I do Matt’s cumming all over his lower stomach. Whining and moaning as he comes down from his high

Heavy breaths and groans as he involuntarily twitches.

“Feeling okay cutie?” I ask him as I pet his hair and pull him closer

“That felt amazing, I’ve never felt that good in my life” he says looking up at me with puppy dog eyes

“And in time it only gets better” I say laying a kiss on his lips

We laid there for a little while talking and kissing and finally we decided to get up and get cleaned. Laying back down I read some more of my book. Until eventually we fell asleep and most candles had gone out by this point.

We fell asleep snuggled together, and at some point in the night we shifted opposite ways. But at around 2am I got up to use the bathroom.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I cracked my neck and back before standing up. Lightly walking from my side to around the bed, but before I could finish coming around I had stepped on something

Silently wincing I looked down, seeing some type of metal I assumed it was Matt’s belt buckle. Smiling and blushing to myself I bent down picking the item up, but to my surprise it was what felt like keys.

Running into the bathroom I shut the door, gently opening the shower curtain to let the moonlight come in through the window. I held the keys up. They looked pretty normal except for one.

It said “BASEMENT” on it and I blinked to make sure I wasn’t half asleep.

Peeing quickly I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. Sticking my head out of the bathroom I peaked over at Matt who was snoring peacefully.

Sighing I tip toed out of the bedroom and quietly down the stairs. I mean as quiet as I could….it was an old house. Lightly walking towards my kitchen thanking the lord for the moonlight coming in through my back door. I was able to see the basement door perfectly.

Sticking the key in lightly I turned it to the left, and heard a click. Silently cheering I turned the knob and opened the door surprisingly the door wasn’t creaky.

I figured I would go down , check it out real quick and go back upstairs. Placing the keys back where I found them.

Shutting the door behind me I felt for a light switch on the right side, and I flicked it on. In about three seconds I heard the faint buzz of a warm light turn on.

Stepping down the stairs gently I turned the corner. The basement looked really nice actually. It was pretty well kept for how old the house was. I didn’t see any water damage nor any termites, but hey who knows.

Walking in a bit more I saw large desks with papers everywhere and bulletin boards covered in papers and a lot of dust….

Walking over to the area I blew some dust around and even wiped it with my fingers. Looking to my right there was a lamp. Testing the odds it actually turned on illuminating the area for me a bit more.

My eyes squinted trying to read everything. My eyes scanned the bulletin board.

“Animal slayings”

“Cult rituals”

“Witch craft like sacrifices”

My eyes went wide. I finally was finding something… and the whole time it was in my house?

I looked to my right and that’s when I got a little bit nervous

“Suzie Buchanan, age 14, found slain in her father’s farm house”

Surely this couldn’t be thee Suzie Matt knew……

I mean that’s recent years? How would that even be in this house? I was becoming anxious with dread.

Looking down at the table I looked at the newspapers closely.

“Thomas Sturniolo released from prison”

“Thomas Sturniolo still being questioned about cult killings”

“Sturniolos back in town?” One read

These were all newspapers not from this town…. Something deeper was going on here….someone knew more than they were saying. There’s an outside source here and I haven’t known this whole time.

Flipping open the newspaper my eyes scanned the text.

“Thomas Sturniolos home 27 Field Drive has been purchased by his grandson”

27 Field Drive was this house….. my hands began to shake as I realized what was going on. This whole time I’ve been living in Thomas Sturniolos house. And there’s someone who knows about me…. My heart began to speed and I rummaged through more newspapers

“A new generation of Sturniolos” one newspaper read

Opening up the newspaper my eyes scanned the page

“Jimmy Sturniolo has now purchased 26 Field Drive, directly across the street from his estranged grandfather's home located at 27 Field Drive” it read

“What the fuck?” I whispered as a cold sweat began to take over

Scanning along the page some more

“Jimmy Sturniolo avoids questions from sources asking about his grandfather. Seen here with one of his sons Matthew Sturniolo covering his face” I read

My heart was thumping out my chest as I let the papers fall from my hands.

You know those scenes in movies where the protagonist is just standing still as the world around her moves and her hearing has gone clouded?? Yeah that’s me right now

Unbeknownst to Y/N Matt had snuck downstairs after realizing she was gone. Sinking down the stairs of the basement he watched the young woman shake in fear as she read the newspapers.

Shaking his head and mentally cursing himself out he quietly walked up behind her

I stood there in fear not really sure what to do. Pretend like nothing happened and wait till tomorrow morning to book it out of town, or book it out of town right now while Matt’s asleep??

Racking my brain for answers I stood there when suddenly I heard

“I’m so sorry” turning around slightly I was faced with Matt

“Wha-“ but before I could finish my sentence Matt charged at me

Grabbing the back of my head and holding a chloroform covered rag against my nose and mouth

And suddenly it all went

BLACK

The End

Don’t kill me for the cliffhanger😏. Had to spice it up a bit. Now I will be working the next four days, so I will try and work on Part 4 a little bit and hopefully have it up soon for you guys. I love you all so dearly 🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #Spotify

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venus-haze · 1 year

Text

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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kithtaehyung · 1 year

Text

busted (3tan) (teaser) | myg

teaser: busted (m) (3tan10) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; [redacted] ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: [redacted lol just trust me] note: alright, listen.. the chapter is coming along but plans and life got in the way so i wasn’t able to get it done before tour. however, i do have a lot of it written/halfway done, so i feel comfortable enough to offer y’all a teaser and will finish it out once i’m done with this trip. i do hope y’all understand, 3tan is coming back v v soon ! :’)) note 2: as for the rest of this chapter.. fuck lol warnings: none for teaser, final list to be named on drop day! est. drop date: late may - early june 2023 teaser wc: 1.8k est. total wc: 15-18k

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And, just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. Nights you spent wondering what happened, days you spent feeling unwanted, times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open up.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You spare a look at your door. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

Even though it’s completely silent.

You know damn well he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the sear of his questions flaring up later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to rip the door open and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

tbc. :’)))

ahh how do we feel !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: soooooo here you go before i continue with the rest of vacay!! LMAOO wouldn’t it be so funny if the whole chapter drops by surprise like y’all are wanting it to? just like this? wild.... A/N 2: always always gonna thank everyone that’s reading and supporting the series! there’s gonna be a lot happening in this chapter just like forfeit, so note-taking or bulletpoint format while reading might be a thing again if you wanna be able to remember things.. ahaha. pls give me strength bc i need it T^T ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ 18+ only taglist! ⇥ masterlist

#ehehehehhehhheh #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fic #yoongi fic #three tangerines #bts fanfic #yoongi angst #*latest #ryenwrites #teasers #3tan10 #yoongi smut #yoongi #btshoneyhive

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iraprince · 11 months

Note

I love the entire concept of Cookie... the look, the fashion, the gender... Would you mind telling us a little more about him? I'm also intrigued about why she's named Cooking with Gorgeous!

HI i would LOVE to talk about george thank you so much. also this makes me realize i've never actually sat down and just made a post unabashedly infodumping at length abt an oc before and it seems silly that i haven't. i ask only for all dear readers to please temper their expectations for this post with the knowledge that i just smoked half a joint before sitting down to answer it. a small one. but still. anyway

FIRST OF ALL FOR THE UNACQUAINTED THIS IS COOKING WITH GORGEOUS, aka cookie or george for short. he uses he/him and she/her pronouns interchangeably!

hi sorry that's not cookie that's a horse in a bridal veil that i. found in my stuff while trying to scroll and find my cookie art. i just got distracted and had to show you. okay no for real here's cookie

he's the character i'm playing in a playtest campaign of the absolutely mesmerizing sapphicworld, an in-development ttrpg!!! and if i'm going to be talking about cookie i feel like i HAVE to say i think a huge amount of her charm and dazzle and charisma comes directly from the charm and dazzle and charisma of the setting i created her for. i know i am laying it on really thick right now but that is on purpose. i want, desperately and unashamedly, for this game to get really popular bc 1. it's genuinely that good. and it's not even DONE yet and 2. i want everyone to get into it so that everyone will make sapphicworld characters and then i'll get to see everyone's sapphicworld characters.

EDIT i'm scrolling back up here and adding a readmore bc this is already getting so long lol. you asked for "a little more" and apparently i have graciously decided this means "literally every fact about cookie that exists in my brain"

SO a lot of the info/tidbits i haven't shared about cookie are i guess gameplay-specific stuff... his title (which is like a class/playbook) is "The Noble Sweetheart," though in sapphicworld "nobility" no longer has anything to do with wealth or class, and is instead entirely about amassing a court purely via devotion/popularity; her subculture (which is like, Who You Hang Out With; drifters, goths, poets, debauchers, cowpokes, etc) is Babe; and her kind (which is like ancestries but in sapphicworld is really just like, a physical form, which u can change more or less at will) is Lunarthrope, which is basically a werewolf!! or more broadly a furry, since u always look like whatever were-animal you are 24/7. just MORE at night, tho i suppose i don't represent that aspect much in my cookie art... ANYWAY i am restraining myself from just sitting here and like. transcribing her entire character sheet. but basically what all this means is that cookie's role in the world (at least at the beginning of the campaign) is "Professionally — no, VOCATIONALLY Hot Person who everyone loves so so so so so so much." cookie really enjoys this role.

he's named cooking with gorgeous because he's an avid cook, and he wants to share that with you, and he's gorgeous!! though honestly the cooking hasn't ended up as important to his character as it was when i first came up with him, lol — but my initial concept was kind of like, what's the equivalent of a bouncy normie recipe blogger/lifestyle influencer but in the context of the lush horny trans deathless psychedelic universe of sapphicworld. and it's cooking with gorgeous, a doggirl dyke with big blue boobs (six of them!!) who is so devastatingly cute and darling that a bunch of people just kind of pledge their fealty to him for no real reason other than he feeds them. and is cute

also her name is def influenced by the fantastic names of many canon sapphicworld npcs! like, quick example list of some npc names off the top of my head: the booty commie, death cybernetic, princess eureka!, the culinary goof (whom cookie dislikes. btw.), pizza friday (whom cookie loves!!!)

cookie is very very determined, and she's ALMOST always very confident. even when she isn't feeling confident, she's still very good at forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other — maybe just while screaming or crying or uncontrollably barking or at least very ardently complaining. he has a tendency to be spoiled and, like, tactless-via-obliviousness, so sometimes he can be grating to interact with, and he has a petty/vindictive streak; but in general he's an AGGRESSIVELY kind person and usually aims all his shrill, cheerful stubbornness directly toward the goal of refusing to accept anything but the best for everyone.

at the beginning of our campaign cookie has JUST received a brand new castle!!!! (chateau gorgeous.) which he doesn't actually "own" bc, remember, no wealth or class in sapphicworld, but he's the ENTHUSIASTIC new caretaker and is chomping at the bit to renovate it so ppl can live there and he can throw a bunch of magnificent parties and basically continue living exactly as he has been, But Even More Fabulous. obviously this is exactly when the main plot threat of the campaign shows up and spoils everything and compels cookie to go on his First Ever Adventure!!!!!! she HAS to save the world otherwise NOBODY will be able to go to the first big party at chateau gorgeous :((((

at this point to prevent myself from just like, giving you guys a play by play of the entire campaign so far i am going to just start listing every cookie fact i can think of as bullet points

🎀 he owns a magical sword in the shape of a giant microplane. it's called The Microplane. he pronounces this "mee-crow-plah-nay"

🎀 george desperately wants to resurrect The Dog-Lich, an entity that once ruled over all beasts from its palace on the moon but was murdered and torn to pieces in a cosmic war far in the past. her attitude towards this desire is 50% devoted lunar cultist, 50% parasocially obsessive twitter stan

🎀 this isn't really a cookie fact but going back to how his title is The Noble Sweetheart — just for a glimpse at party composition, his fellow party members' titles are The Intimate Scholar, The Tentacle Advocate, and The Tw*nk Controversial (the * is the canon spelling).

^ aforementioned tw*nk. its name is Mwah ("pronounced like the kiss you blow at someone you just fucked over"). mwah is played by @/squiddelyfather on twitter!

🎀 mwah and cookie used to be very, very tight, BEFORE mwah became the tw*nk controversial. now that it's so.... you know.... controversial, well. they're still very close, but it has gotten a little stilted and weird (and watching them slowly un-weird it together as the campaign goes on has been one of my fav roleplay experiences ever honestly)

🎀 cookie's other adventuremates, skarligge and delaryn, are both very indulgent towards him. delaryn acts the most grumpy/dismissive about it but is honestly sometimes the worst about spoiling cookie out of anyone in the party (skarligge's player is twt@/clown_dream and delaryn's is twt@/glaiveguisarme and hey while im at it our fantastic gm is the sapphicworld dev, twt@/ddemoneclipse. hi guys i hope u don't mind me chattering abt ur ocs here lol it's just hard to talk abt the best of cookie w/o bringing up everyone else's characters and roleplay also!!!)

🎀 cookie is very VERY sensitive and will burst into tears at the drop of a hat. the precursor to this is her eyes getting So So So Big And Wet And Round. one of my favorite bits to menace the other party members with is when something is not going cookie's way i will lean into my mic and say "cookie's eyes are getting so so so big. they're getting so big and wet and round and shiny. they're so so round and fucking big her eyes are like big wet black glass marbles" and this is like kryptonite to them. this is like getting hit with deadly radiation

🎀 oh speaking of fashion!!!! one of cookie's perks from being a Babe is that she can always change her look whenever she wants. she will ALWAYS have whatever outfit she needs and can quickchange instantly. wait this reminds me i have a bunch of seasonal holiday outfits sketched out and i don't think i've ever posted them here but it'll only let me put one more image in this post. well here have this one

🎀 okay well suddenly i have forgotten all other george facts so that's all for now!!! from now on i will try to just dump oc facts like this more often tho this is really fun. ty for getting me going lol!!!

#my ocs #my art #cooking with gorgeous #sapphicworld

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milflewis · 7 days

Note

ok but mob au

“You really didn’t know who I work for?”

When Yuki found out that Pierre’s boss is the Sebastian Vettel, the Lion of Singapore, and the unofficial heir to Schumacher & Co., he had only raised his eyebrows. Pierre took that to mean he had already figured it out.

Yuki blinks at him. “No.”

“But.” Pierre frowns. “Why did you — I always have so many knives on me! Is this not weird to you?” He gestures at his jacket which hangs open, showing four different perfectly sharpened blades tucked into the lining.

Yuki shrugs. “You are French, yes? You like to cut things. Like cheese.”

Pierre mouths wordlessly. Cheese.

“Anyway,” Yuki adds. “You are weird, so. This would not be weird.”

The first time Sebastian meets Lewis, his runners are wet with Michael’s blood and Lewis’s hands are pressing his head into the glass door. His face aches, nose throbbing.

“Can I help you?” he says, or tries to say. It comes out vaguely smushed.

He pushes back a little just to see. Lewis lets him move half an inch before shoving him back.

“Jesus, Hamilton,” Sebastian hears Michael say. His voice cracks roughly. Sebastian nearly cried when the doctor told him Michael survived the surgery, that they got all the bullets out and he was in recovery. He swallows thickly, as the relief makes him all dizzy even now. “I know you got out today but c’mon, let him go. This is Sebastian — I talked about him.”

The hands on Sebastian’s neck disappear and he’s rubbing at his jaw when he turns around. “Ow,” Seabastian tells Michael. His cheeks are pale and his chest is wrapped in white bandages but his eyes are alert and he is grinning.

“Sebastian, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis, Sebastian Vettel. Mika says we are all friends here.”

He pats Mika’s ankle that is propped up on the bed beside his hip. Mika’s eyes stay closed, arms folded in his chair, chin on his chest. There are dark bruises under his eyes under now.

“Right. If Mika says so.”

Lewis steps back towards Michael’s bed, grabbing the duffle bag from where it was leaning against the wall. Sebastian looks at his bare arms, the tattoos that go all the way down to his fingers, the rings there. His jeans sit low on his hips. He needs a shave. Sebastian recognises him from his mugshot, even of his hair is longer now and his face is more lined.

They hadn’t had the time to arrange for Michael to share a cell with someone affiliated with them, and when they had got in contact with him, a week later, he had settled in well enough with his cell mate. By Michael standards at least.

Does not talk much, Michael had told Sebastian over the phone. Likes his fucking singing though. Stares at the picture of his dog. Do you think he is lonely?

When Sebastian had brought it up with Mika, the best person for this kind of thing when Corinna is away, Mika had only shrugged, and told him that he doesn’t think it is just Hamilton that is lonely, and that of fucking course anyone who could survive nine weeks in solitary with just Fernando Alonso as company in the next cell over is someone that Michael would find interesting.

Sebastian looks away from the breadth of Lewis’s shoulders in his white tank and pulls a face at Michael’s waggling eyebrows.

“How old do you think I am?” Jenson asks, as Alex adjusts his long-rifle until it sits comfortably against his shoulder, supported by the flat roof they are lying on.

Alex doesn’t answer, because he knows exactly how old Jenson is, and the fact that people continue to tell Jenson to his face that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.

“Ollie, how old do you think I am?” Jenson calls.

“Jen, leave the kid alone,” Alex says. “You could dye your hair.”

“Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?”

“Yes,” Alex sweeps the street below them, marking the buildings bracketing the shop they are surveilling. “Ollie, how are you doing over there?”

He can hear him scramble around for a second before a burst of static. “Radio ready for orders, sir.”

Alex grimaces, still not used to that, as Jenson only laughs beside him.

“Michael? We got him.” Eddie leans back against the closed door.

Michael hums, closing his leather notebook. He leaves his fountain pen tucked into the middle so he remembers what month of intakes he was going over.

“Send him in.”

The kid’s hair is long and dirty, falling into his eyes and around his ears. His knees are all busted up under his baggy shorts. His face is drawn and thin, and he is glaring at Michael, jaw clenched.

He goes all pale when he sees who sits in front of him. Seems like he didn’t know whose car it was.

“Jesus,” Michael says. “You’re tiny, how did you reach the pedals?”

This morning, the kid — Sebastian Vettel, Michael had asked around — had hot wired Michael’s car in under two minutes and driven away. Michael had watched from the restaurant’s window, amused and impressed.

Mika had been decidedly less so when Michael told him, ten minutes later, that they were going to have to order a cab.

“I’m not that short!” The glare intensifies. His eyes are kind of freaky, Michael thinks. Very big and bright.

Michael holds out a hand, level with his chest, and squints. He lowers it considerably. Sebastian looks like he wants to bite it.

“Of course not,” Michael tells him soothingly. Eddie gives him a reproachful look. Michael holds back his eyeroll but takes his hand out of reach of Sebastian’s mouth.

“I have a job for you,” Michael says, watching Sebastian’s eyes sharpen. He smiles thinly. “If you’re up for it.”

“A job. For me? What kind of job?” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, making his eyes wide. His curls tumble across his forehead. The whole effect is rather sweet, Michael considers, delighted. This will be interesting.

Mika has been nagging at Michael to stop picking up strays but he thinks he will agree with Michael on this one.

Michael stretches out his back, legs interlocked at the ankles, until something clicks along his spine. He exhales slowly, sinking back into the shitty mattress.

They called for lights out fifteen minutes ago. Lewis is still in the bunk above him. Michael looks at the scratches across the metal rods. He had a good workout today, no interruptions, and his arms are nicely sore.

Seventeen minutes.

Lewis moves in his bed, rolling over to the right and for a moment, Michael thinks he will roll right off the edge, but then he is swinging down, silent. Michael holds himself very still.

"I am not interested in fucking."

"Yeah," Lewis says. "I heard."

Michael swallows. The sharpened edge of Lewis's plastic spoon presses into his throat. Lewis is dense and solidly heavy, knees on either side of his hips, one foot digging into his knee.

Michael has seen him fight. In an enclosed space like this, and unarmed, he isn't sure who would come out the better. His fingers itch with excitement.

"I found the picture you left," Lewis says quietly. The spoon doesn't move an inch. His eyes gleam in the dark like an animal.

"Okay," Michael says, not bothering to pretend not to know what he is talking about.

Lewis was fine this morning. He hummed to himself the entire way to breakfast, and he spotted Michael in the gym without even being asked. It wasn't until after dinner that he went all weird and still in himself.

Lewis presses down, just a little. Michael raises an eyebrow.

"Is he alive?" Lewis asks like he doesn't want to show his hand but is doing so anyway. His mouth trembles at the corners. Michael frowns at him. He has seen Lewis hustle in the yard at card games enough times to know that his poker face is better than this.

"Is he."

Oh. Jesus.

Michael laughs. It is too loud of a sound for where they are. He laughs anyway.

"You have issues," he tells Lewis, who only sends him a cutting look.

"That was supposed to make you feel better! Stop crying and all. You miss him, yes? Thought I could help."

Lewis stares at him. Blinks those animal eyes.

Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his mouth. He misses Mika. He never has to talk when Mika is around.

"He is being taken care of in that shelter you put him in. I had my people check. I was being nice! Friendly too!"

"We're friends," Lewis says slowly as if he expects Michael to say no.

"Obviously. You are being ridiculous," Michael says. "You think I would kill a dog? No!" He is a little hurt.

"You are the chief suspect in fifteen open murders," Lewis says, flat.

"Not of dogs!"

Lewis looks at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "How are you still alive, man? For real? I thought it was a threat."

He pushes off Michael and pulls himself up onto the top bunk, as silent as he climbed down at the start.

"No one else would see this as a bad thing."

He can hear Lewis roll his eyes.

"Literally every other person here would think you were sending a message. And not a good one."

"I was being nice!"

There is a clang of metal against metal, and their cell bars rattle. "Oi! You two! Shut the fuck up. Save the fighting or fucking for the morning."

"Gross, man," Lewis says, and Michael kicks at the underside of his bunk. "You are gross."

Maybe Mika was right when he said that Lewis might not take his generosity in the way he wanted it, Michael considers. He decides not to tell him. He would be too smug if he did.

He palms the sharpened spoon that Lewis had held to his neck and left on his pillow, beside his cheek. It is small and narrow. Michael presses his thumb against the slice, feeling it. He smiles, and tucks it under his sheet. He had needed a new one.

+1.

Sebastian had been small when Michael met him. All eyes and bony knees and dirty hair.

Then he opened up his mouth and his personality crawled out.

Michael has never looked back.

#listen. i entertain myself #sewis #yukierre #makkinen #five head cannon ask game #kyle tag #niamh.asks #little fics

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eddies-house · 8 months

Text

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Two - Dainty

W/C: 4.6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

You need a job, The Bourbon needs a server. The math is there but the owner won't acknowledge it. How will you win over such a crabby man that only sees you as a gnat forcing its way into his space?

A/N: The response I received on the first part fic was so unexpected but I'm so glad everyone liked it!! I can't wait to get deeper into this story

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I’m sorry for running out so fast yesterday.

No. Too forward.

I think we got off on the wrong foot, by we I mean me.

No, not sincere enough.

I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly—

“Excuse me, dear?”

Your train of thought was dissolved within seconds as you turned your focus to the older gentleman that had called for your attention. A hum in place of an answer as your brows raised expectantly but ever so friendly awaited his follow up question.

“Can I just squeeze past you to grab that jar of peaches?” He asks, wrinkles around his eyes upturned in perfect harmony with his smile.

“Of course. Yes!” Panicked, you rush to the other side of the aisle, the older man waving you off, insisting that it was ‘quite alright’ while he reached for his beloved peaches.

You’d been bouncing back and forth, up and down between several opening statements to provide Donnie, a sour taste left in your own mouth at the way you left her hanging the day before when she was merely being kind to you. It was something you couldn’t stop, the anxiety eating away at your flesh like bacteria from the fact that you could’ve caused someone to be less than satisfied with their interaction with you, as if you were some kind of service. People pleasing was a disease.

Sometimes the affected party was blind to its symptoms, oblivious to the way their illness consumed them. And that’s why you found yourself purchasing a single pack of gum, eyes large and sorrowful before you were even next in line. Various ways to get the point across were mentally rehearsed and the closer you got to the register, the more you focused on one singular sentence, clinging onto the desire to not stutter or mess it up.

“Hey you’re back!” Donnie greets. “Thought for sure we’d scare you off by now.”

With a wince, you hand her your pathetic excuse of a conversation starter, a pack of spearmint gum with your trembling hand. If she notices she doesn’t bring attention to it, instead she gracefully takes the pack and rings you up.

“N-no, no. I don’t scare that easily.” You try to convince yourself more than her.

You note that the shop is nearly empty once again just after a handful of customers had done their shopping and went on with their day. A few patrons still linger, carefully picking out each item from their weekly grocery list; however, you wouldn’t know they were there if not for the squeak of their carts every few feet as they inched forward.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Donnie respectfully hands back the gum in exchange for your cash. A crinkled five that had seen better days.

For a moment you debate fleeing once again, nerves tingling and breathing becoming shallow before internally reprimanding yourself. You can cry all you damn well please in private but right now you need to stand up to the little voice in your head. “Yeah. Um, I just–I wanted to say I’m sorry for running out so suddenly like that.” It didn’t come out as smooth as you’d planned but you’re hoping it came across as sincere enough. If you could at least look forward to a friendly face at the supermarket every week, well it would be a win.

“Honey, I don’t get offended easily and it seemed like you had places to be.” She waves a dismissive hand in the air at your apology, not unkindly, more so letting you know you didn’t need to be so formal with her. And yet you couldn’t help yourself, an unwanted backstory spilling from your lips almost like second nature. Excuses plucked from the top of your brain.

“I didn’t–I didn’t mean to leave and just not introduce myself. I just got caught up, with moving and all–”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. Just your name and we’ll call it good.” A genuine smile stretches across her face, contagious enough that your lips tug upward as well as you offer your name, a proper introduction this time.

Your shoulders relax ever so slightly, not fully letting your guard down but no longer feeling the need to tense every muscle in your body. It’s then that you realize that this is the only grocery store that you ever found visually appealing, with its darker toned walls and red checkered floors, the lighting not being so fluorescent and in your face, a bit dim even. Which for some may be a flaw but for you it was perfect. You don’t feel so exposed and couldn't be perceived so clearly, the ideal cocktail of a situation for someone so socially anxious.

“I, um, I saw your sign.” You gesture to the letters reading ‘help wanted’ posted against the window. If you could land a decent job then maybe living wouldn’t feel so terrifying. Then again, several things would come into factor other than just your means of income.

Donnie’s expression turns empathetic and you can feel your breath hitch in anticipation for a brutal rejection. To be told that you had it all wrong, that you were too unprofessional and too meek and that your help was most definitely not wanted here, that you shouldn’t have even stepped foot in this town to begin with. The five stages of grief practically take over in mourning over the loss of a potential job.

“I’m real sorry but we already filled the position. Tom was supposed to take that down around two weeks ago.” She sounds irritated at the mention of what you assumed to be her coworker. “Can’t rely on anyone.” She sighs, striding over to the window and pulling the sign from its temporary home only to abandon it behind the shelf that displayed several boxes of cigarettes.

“Oh I’m–”

Before you can even begin to apologize for something completely out of your control, Donnie’s eyes light up at something, or rather, someone behind you.

“Hey, Ed! Isn’t The Bourbon hiring?”

All she receives in return is silence and when you dare to peek over your shoulder behind you, you briefly meet the eyes of the neighbor you had the displeasure of running into twice the day before. Today he fronts with a black leather jacket and the same black jeans with rips in the knees. The only thing noticeably different is the chain now dangling at his side and the band shirt you’re unable to read, the letters obscured from your view. Oh, and a few chunky rings decorating his hand that should make him look tacky as hell but somehow they pull the look together.

“I dunno, who’s asking?” He counters, brow raised as he glances at you once more. You’d barely even spoken a few words to the guy and he was acting as if you committed the most heinous act against him.

“Ed.” Donnie warns.

“Don, she wouldn’t last a day.”

You were beginning to think that this so-called ‘Ed’ was going to turn into an issue…fast. Who was he to judge a stranger who he knew absolutely nothing about. His audacity startled you and while you should step in and defend yourself, you can’t bring yourself to do it, tongue tied in every literal sense, words caught in the back of your throat like they were physical refrigerator magnets lodged in place.

“You don’t know that!” She grins at him, a grin that silently says ‘watch it’. “Honey, you got any work experience?” Attention shifting to you, you felt as if you were burdening two people who had everything figured out in their quaint little lives, guilt plaguing your mind at the fact that you’d shaken things up between what seemed to be good friends or maybe even just well acquainted individuals.

“I–uh–yes. Yes, I’ve worked at the–at the library and-and–”

“The library?” Ed questions. You didn’t dare answer, knowing very well he wasn’t seeking a response. “What good would that do me in a bar?”

“Well I–”

“Think The Bourbon’s too rowdy for someone like you.” He continues, only fueling your inner rage as well as pricking the embarrassment that held a permanent home within you, your cheeks flushing hot and palms becoming clammy.

“I’ve also worked at a diner. Back home.” Somehow you find a voice, one that isn’t shaky and timid but rather more calm and collected regardless of the absolute fear that pounded in your heart.

Both Donnie and Ed stare, seconds passing that only feel like lightyears. Ed still seems bored beyond comprehension, opening and shutting his wallet as he narrows his big brown eyes. You aren’t sure what to do next, if you should make a dramatic exit once again or continue proving yourself to some stranger who had no business even making you do such a thing in the first place.

“A diner.”

He says it like a statement rather than a question, as if to mock and discredit you.

Tears are not an option, tears are not an option.

“See she’s got experience!” Donnie attempts to mend the situation, acting as an unofficial moderator.

“Don, no offense but I came here to buy the usual, not recruit.” Some cash is slapped onto the counter, his patience clearly wearing thin by the way he begs with his eyes. Donnie’s tolerance appears to be at a dangerously low level based on the glare she forces upon him. You were beyond unprepared to witness a standoff in the middle of the supermarket at 5:00 PM on a Wednesday.

“Thought you were desperate for a server.”

There’s some bite behind her words, focus never wavering, the two seeming to have a telepathic conversation right before your eyes until Ed breaks the stillness in the air.

“Not in the slightest. Can I have my shit now?”

Donnie’s sigh lets you know Ed has won and in the process, drained her energy. Reluctantly, she snatches the cash from the counter and opens the register before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the shelf behind her and handing them to him along with his change, an unfriendly exchange. It doesn’t seem to bother him as he clutches the cash and the pack in his hand, not even sparing you another glance on his way out.

Clearing your throat, you pull Donnie’s attention away from the insufferable man now making his way down the cobblestone sidewalk outside. “It’s okay. I’m sure other places are hiring.”

She rolls her eyes and you know it’s not meant for you but you can’t shake the paranoia that screams that she might be fed up with you as well. “Don’t mind Eddie. He acts like a hardass but he’ll come around.”

So his name is Eddie. You only nod in response, unsure of where to steer the conversation from here.

“He’s like a scary dog. He’ll roll over for the right people. So if he doesn’t take to you, don’t take it personally.” She advises.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

You were so going to take it personally.

–

As it turns out, no one in Knife’s Edge was hiring, not a single soul seeking a random girl from out of town who urgently needed a job. Not that you could blame them, they had it all figured out. Many of the shops were owned by families thus being run by said families and not requiring the additional expense that would come with hiring another person. And those that did seem to hire outside of their family had already filled in every necessary position.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. This is what you get for uprooting your life and sticking it somewhere it probably didn’t belong.

And now you were moping along the cobblestone, trying to figure out how to pay the bills, working out how much of your savings you could survive off of until you’d run out. Then The Bourbon came into view. Almost like it wanted you to see it, the beaming red lights spelling out its name specifically for you to see. Mainly because it was the only place you knew to be hiring despite what Ed–or–Eddie–whatever his name was, had said in his unpleasant remarks from earlier. It seemed to be your only shot at employment.

The bar had a few neon signs flashing in the window, one being the very obvious ‘open’ sign and then of course one that read ‘happy hour’ with a margarita. The rest appeared to be different beers they might have on tap. It didn’t look like anything fancy but didn’t seem like a hole in the wall either. The exterior was paneled in wood just like almost every other building in the area, giving it a cabin feel without actually being a cabin.

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach from just staring at the place so if you were going to act, it needed to be now, before said dread morphed into pure panic. This was going to determine your foreseeable future, if you couldn’t land this job then you might as well toss yourself right back down that mountain with no money and no plan, right back to square one.

The door was heavy, built out of metal and a bell ringing just above, notifying any staff and patrons of your presence which you could do without but you had to push yourself. If they were staring, your gaze was glued to the ground and you didn’t notice, too occupied in rehearsing an improvised script in your head. Some kind of rock or metal song blasted through the bar and you weren’t sure if it was overstimulating or comforting. Your initial thought was that for being in a small town, they would be inclined to play country music so it only relieved you that your possible future workplace wouldn’t be subjecting you to the unbearable twang you just couldn’t seem to stand. You’d endure it when all was said and done but it was appreciated that it was one less nuisance in your life.

It was a standard bar, the atmosphere mellow with dull lighting and a haziness smelling of tobacco swirling throughout the room. What immediately drew you in was the obvious game of bingo, suddenly shifting what was a designated spot for happy hour and a cheap therapy session with the bartender into a retirement home full of seniors. A man that looked to be in his fifties sat on a stool on the tiny stage in the corner, calling out numbers, which elicited a few victory yells from those who had obviously been having better luck.

However odd the scene may be, several senior citizens occupying the tables of a bar at happy hour, business still seemed to be booming considering that it was a weekday. Aside from the group of elderly yet energetic individuals, there were also what looked to be the regulars perched on their assigned stools at the actual bar. They paid no mind to the intense game happening behind them, sipping away at their beers and mixed drinks leisurely.

A vacant seat called to you, two more on each side guaranteeing that you could sit comfortably without awkwardly scooting in next to someone and disturbing their possible winding down time, no doubt trying to blow off some steam after work. That’s why people came to bars, right? It was lost on you, this wasn’t your scene and if you’re truthful, you’re not even sure you should be here begging for a job in the first place. That Ed guy clearly didn’t take a liking to you and though you didn’t exactly have any knowledge on his role within The Bourbon, he seemed like he had a say in the day to day operations just based on the tiny snippets of information you picked up on. Hopefully someone with the same level of authority would be working now and actually respect you as a person enough to at least give you a chance.

Playing it cool—as cool as one could be with constant nagging thoughts and shot nerves, you decide to plant yourself down on the stool, the worn leather material partially squeaking in protest as you wiggle into a comfortable enough position, setting your bag in your lap and clutching it in paranoia. A glance from the left to the right and back to the left lets you know that no one seems to mind your presence though you still close in on yourself regardless, taking up the least amount of space possible.

The bartender, a man maybe in his early twenties who had short dark hair seems preoccupied as he shakes a drink while balancing a conversation with another man at the end of the bar, the two laughing every other sentence like old friends. And so you wait. Never intentionally draw attention to yourself and never disturb anyone else’s night until you find it polite to chime in when the bartender doesn’t seem as busy. Even then, he doesn’t hear your small ‘excuse me’ every time he rushes by onto his next task.

A sad little ghost settled among lively customers, you don’t seek pity, only a glance your way so that you could get this over with and either face rejection or anxiously resume the job search. Though no one seems to bother looking your way, you can’t help the heat traveling to your cheeks in pure humiliation, the fact that you’re the only thing out of place weighing heavily on your mind. More celebratory howls and yells sound from behind you, the room erupting into laughter shortly after from a joke you didn’t care to understand. Even a few select chuckles are heard from the men scattered along the bar.

“Do you just not listen?”

A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, forcing you to peek up from where your focus remained on the bartop, where moments before you’d seemed entranced by the surface. In reality you were running in circles in your head, hoping to make sense of your current situation. Through your lashes you saw him. Ed. Or Eddie. You didn’t put much effort into feeling too bad for not remembering his actual name, especially when he’d never even had the decency to ask for yours. His leather jacket was absent from his torso, now only showing off a plain black t-shirt that also allowed you a view of various tattoos scattered along his arms. You were first drawn to the faded bats on his forearm before becoming puzzled by what seemed to be some kind of a doodle on his inner bicep, not a very good one at that. And then you remembered he’d asked you a question.

“I’m not allowed to have a drink?” You ask innocently. Genuine innocence. No sarcasm. You weren’t brave enough for that.

“Only if you’re not here to also beg for a job.” He grumbles. A man a few stools over gestures down for another round and in response, Eddie nods coolly. With a certain kind of smoothness, he pulls a new glass out before slamming it down on the counter. “If you are, the answer is still no.” The way he quickly pours liquor into the shaker seems so effortless, measurements probably burned into his brain that allow for more efficiency on busy nights.

“Can I at least speak to someone in charge?” You do your best to keep your voice steady and unwavering in the presence of someone with infinitely more confidence than you, his eye contact never breaking.

“You’re lookin’ at him, doll.”

His voice drips with his signature condescending tone, the corner of his mouth pulled up slightly in a smirk. One that tells you that you’ve hit a dead end.

“You—oh.” Like an idiot, you swallowed any words that bubbled in your throat, unable to find it within yourself to at least come up with a snarky comeback.

“We’re not hiring.”

“That-that’s not what Donnie said.” Lousy. The argument just seemed to fall from your tongue involuntarily, not much thought put behind it before coming to fruition. It would only give him more ammo.

His eyes further surveyed you, meticulously analyzing your every move, every twitch of every muscle in your face. An unwanted spotlight shining on you, revealing every flaw in your approach to the current conversation. You wanted a job and he wanted nothing to do with you, your last statement only sealing your fate, only giving him more reason to deny your advances.

“Donnie doesn’t work here does she?” Without expression, he begins expertly shaking his concoction, forearms flexing with the movement. He was a character, some kind of figment of your imagination. He had to be. You’d never encountered someone so standoffish, so ill-tempered, especially toward someone he’d never even met before, already passing judgment on you based on seconds of interaction.

Ignoring his rhetorical question, which came off as more of a deterrent than anything, you pursue a fair conversation, a deserving interview at the very least. “Listen, I’m a really hard worker and—“

“And a fast learner right?”

The interruption was unwelcomed though you gave no indication that it was, face set in a straight expression as you processed his uncivil personality. You couldn’t even find it in you to convey shock, your brain malfunctioning upon his words, outdoing himself with every sentence he uttered.

“Well, yes.”

“Of course. And you can multitask too I bet?”

This wasn’t the interview you were hoping for, this was downright degrading.

“If you would just let me talk.” You plead, fingers digging into the wood of the bartop.

“Listen, kid.” The liquid he had been shaking for quite some time is poured into the glass, an amber colored liquor filled to the brim.

Kid?

If you had the guts you would degrade him right back. But you were you and you could only sit and take each hit to your fragile mental state with as much grace as possible. And soon after the tears would come. Not yet, though. Not just yet.

“You look like you’re about to cry and you haven’t even been hired. What makes you think you can handle a full house on a Friday night?” The drink is topped off with an orange twist and a black cherry before he slides it to its awaiting consumer, not a drop spilling over the edge of the glass, clearly a perfected craft that he was proud of.

When he’s met with silence you gather that he thinks he’s won just by the smug look on his face, barely there but still evident nonetheless. That little voice inside your head screams at you to keep pushing, keep bugging him until he has to give in. Even if by pure annoyance. And although you can feel yourself trembling in terror, something urges you to just gulp down the fear and prod at the arrogant man just beyond the bar.

“I work well under pressure, I’m very organized, I’ll clean on my down time…” You begin to list off your abilities and if he wanted to stop listening, the way he glared at you wasn’t convincing you that he was going to.

This time his response is delayed rather than the other way around, suddenly at a loss for words as his large eyes take in your sudden change in demeanor. Your slight assertiveness takes him by surprise, you can tell from his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. It’s all a front for you to at least get one foot in the door but as they say, ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.

“No.” He answers suddenly, sternly. His disinterest is obvious when he pulls out a rag and starts wiping down the counter, no longer letting his gaze fall on you but instead, the droplets he works vigorously to clean up.

If he wants a fight, then a fight he shall receive.

“I’m a team player, I’m super reliable, my time is flexible, if you need me in a pinch consider it done–”

“Do you understand social cues?”

Ouch. If you had an inflated ego it would’ve surely been destroyed by now but you were already working with close to nothing.

“Yes.” You reply, not a trace of sarcasm, only an honest answer.

“So I think by now you’d understand. We. Are. Not. Hiring.” Each word is enunciated and slathered thickly with bitterness, topped with the intention to send you running like a dog with its tail tucked in between its legs.

What he doesn’t know is that your soft spoken voice and bashful exterior isn’t all there is to you and that deep down, if you wanted something, you were stubborn and able to manipulate the situation should it be required in the most dire of situations. Whether it would work on him seeing as he was also just as stubborn, if not more, you weren’t sure yet.

“Are you turning me away because I’m a woman?”

The pure horror in his eyes almost makes you chuckle because now you know you have the upper hand and had anyone overheard, they would probably question their beloved local bartender’s work ethic.

“I mean–not that I’m accusing you…” You were definitely accusing. “I just don’t see any other women working and–”

It doesn’t have the effect you’re hoping for as he leans toward you, forearms resting on the bar, his eyes returning back to their spiteful nature while he taps his clunky rings against the surface in thought.

“I’m turning you away because you don’t belong in a place like this. Things can get rough and you’re…too dainty.” His voice is much more hushed than before but his expression remains serious, without a trace of that stupid smirk.

Dainty? Dainty. Noted.

“What–you don’t think a woman can handle–”

“It’s not about you being a woman.” He seethes. “It’s about the fact that you are dainty. Polite. Shy. I can’t have that when I’ve got a few drunks refusing to leave at 2:00 AM.”

“I know when to hold my own. Especially if it's for a job.” You attempt to convince him.

“What, so you’re just gonna respectfully tell them to leave, then what? These guys get out of hand, I can’t be babysitting you, I’ve got a business to run.” He reasons, straightening his posture, conversation already forgotten as he starts to turn away before you speak up again.

“At least let me prove you wrong before you dismiss me.” You quietly demand, hands clasped in front of you. “Think I can handle a group of senior citizens.” You motion to the intense bingo game still going strong behind you.

With a roll of his eyes, he seems to ponder his thoughts, bouncing them around in his head. An exasperated sigh escapes his parted lips while a hand drags down his tired face.

“One night. A trial. If you can handle it, fine. You’ve got a job.” He finally declares. “But if I have to stop what I’m doing to babysit you or you so much as–”

“I’ll find another job. Promise.” You nod persuasively, a glimmer in your eyes that he doesn’t miss but quickly ignores.

“Good. Tomorrow night. Eight. And just this one time you can park in the back lot.”

He tries to dismiss himself again but your next question forces him to linger a little bit longer. He was patient, you’d give him that.

“Wait–what, what’s the dress code?” You ask sheepishly, a contrast to the business woman you’d molded into just seconds before.

He does a once over, as if to judge your fashion choices but what he ends the conversation with only leads you to think that he favors one word way too much.

“Casual. Nothing too dainty.”

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #grumpy!eddie #grumpy!eddie munson

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sunvmars · 10 months

Text

fireworks | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader

pt. 2 | masterlist

word count: 3.7k

warnings: smut mentions, some light swearing and some fluff. oh, and i have no timeline in the mcu for which this takes place so keep that in mind. i also did minimal proof reading :)

summary: everyone but you and steve realize you like each other.

Before you were an Avenger, you were Steve's friend and roommate. For half of the year that you'd lived together, you considered Steve to be more than a friend- you were head over heels in love. The team noticed how you brightened when he was around. They noticed how you were always taking short glances at him at meetings. You were always the one tending to any of Steve's injuries on the jet after a mission. The only one who didn't notice your pining was Steve.

Steve would do anything for you just as you would him. You weren't sure if you would ever tell him. If there was even a possibility of him not feeling the same, you didn't wanna ruin your friendship.

But just like he didn't notice your feelings for him, you never noticed his for you. To everyone but you, it was obvious Steve followed you around like a lost puppy. During team dinners he was sitting right next to you. In training he always picked you to partner up with. When it was your turn to make dinner, he was always in there helping you. And on missions, Steve always made sure to be near you.

Not that you needed Steve to protect you, and he knew this, as you came from generations of the strongest witches. You were strong on top of having your abilities. So far, you've discovered you have telekinesis, you can read and control people's minds, and control elemental factors.

After Steve found out that you had special abilities, he'd pushed you to get you in contact with Tony Stark. SHIELD decided you'd be a great asset and got you set up in a room in the Avenger's tower. Soon after you moved into the tower and out of your shared apartment, so did Steve. In fact, he was only three rooms down from you.

That was almost two years ago. And today was the day before Tony's New Years Eve Party. You all but forced everyone to decorate the place. Not that you truly cared this much about New Years, but you were a sucker for extra time with the team. And that's how you ended up spending your evening putting up decorations and assigning jobs for who puts up what and in which area.

"Come on, Buck, it won't be that bad," Steve smiles, patting the brunette's back as he passes him on the way down the stairs.

"If you stop complaining, it'll get done faster," Sam adds, giving Bucky a blank expression.

A frown crosses your features, "this is supposed to be fun, don't look so miserable!"

You watch Bucky and Sam struggle to wrap a gold and black tinsel garland around the stair rail, your frown quickly being replaced with a smirk. Steve, little to your knowledge, watches with a smile as you giggle at them bicker over who's wrapping the wrong way. After a few seconds, Tony jumps in to break it up- only resulting in all three of them arguing.

"How many Avengers does it take to put a damn garland up?"

"Apparently more than three," Steve responds to you with a chuckle, "should I break it up?"

"Of course not. It's entertaining. Wanna come hang balloons with me?"

Steve nods with the same lovesick smile plastered on his face.

Soon enough, the whole living room was decorated- after hours of bickering between the team and multiple drinks, of course.

"See! That wasn't so bad," you declare.

"Speak for yourself," Sam says, side eyeing Bucky.

Bucky returns the glance, but remains silent.

"It wasn't horrible, but I won't be working with those two idiots again," Tony looks back at Sam and Bucky as he ruffles your hair and heads off to his room.

"I had fun," Wanda smiles, hoping to reassure you.

Nat gives you a slight smile, "it wasn't so bad."

After everyone goes off to their rooms, the only people left in the room are you and Steve putting up the unused decorations.

"So, Steve, do you have anyone in mind that you plan on going to the party with tomorrow?"

His face reddens just barely as he looks away from you for a moment to conjure up an answer, "I... No, not really. What about you?"

"I guess I could say the same."

You nod and attempt to cover the disappointment on your face. He only offers a hum in response as his lips curl up to form an empathetic smile. Your eyes linger on his for a little too long, both of you waiting for the other to fill the silence.

"Well, I should probably go put these back and head to bed," you blurt out, mentally cussing yourself out for not asking him to be your date to the party.

"Of course. Goodnight, y/n."

You turn a little too quickly and start walking towards the elevator. Once in your room, you change into pajamas and climb into your bed. Just a few doors down is Steve laying comfortably in his bed, and also berating himself for not asking you to go to the party with him. See, he has a plan to tell you how he feels tomorrow. He even found a balcony on the tower that gives a perfect view of the fireworks. His nerves are getting the best of him though. Sometimes he feels like you have the same feelings for him as he does for you, but he always dismisses the thought. He takes note of every move you make towards him. All the times you've hugged him and let your hands linger a little longer around him before pulling away. Every time your cheeks have brightened when he reassures you with compliments after a shitty date. Steve notices everything you do. And everyone notices how the two of you endlessly and hopelessly chase each other.

When you wake up, the first thing that you notice is the smell of pancakes. The second thing is the small box you feel by your feet. Your eyes hesitate to open, trying to adjust to the sunlight. Slowly, your body allows you to sit up. You pick up the small white box wrapped with a pink bow. Attached to it is a small card that simply reads, "From Tony." With a cocked brow you gently tug on the pink bow and allow it to come undone. The box opens to reveal a piece of folded up fabric.

It unravels to reveal a dress that's hardly an actual dress. Sure, it's not that bad, but it's a little much for a casual party. It's slightly below the knee length dress with thick off shoulder straps. It's red with a black mesh over it making it appear a dark maroon color. The cups are a practically see through black mesh, the back zips up to just barely above your ass, and it has a long slit on the side that looks like it'd stop right at your hip. Not that you needed his approval, but you wondered if Steve would like you in this particular dress. After wrapping the dress back up into the box, you make your way out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Good morning, y/n," Steve smiles.

He hands you a plate with a stack of pancakes, a few pieces of fruit, and a little cup of syrup on the side.

"Thanks, Stevie," you return the expression and make your way to the table after getting a drink.

Plopping down in your usual seat between Bucky and Steve, you start to dig in. A few minutes later and everyone's almost done cramming down their breakfast. If anyone's learned anything from the time's when Thor visits it's that he eats, he eats a lot and he eats it fast. First day he was there it was like a pack of animals fighting over the last drop of water out of a pond. Per usual, you and Steve shared small talk until you decided to go back to your room.

Within a few hours after breakfast, it was time to get ready for the party. For the last two years you've gotten ready for events like this with Wanda and Nat. Being the only girls in the tower, they were your best friends in the compound.

A sigh leaves your lips after carefully observing yourself in the dress one last time. You put a red bra on under it to make the cups look the same color as the rest of it. The dress left nothing to the imagination.

"Thoughts?" you ask as you step out of the bathroom.

Nat and Wanda exchange a glance.

"That's the one," they blurt out in unison.

"Are you guys sure? It doesn't feel like a little much for a regular, boring party?"

They quickly shut down your thought. After a quick pep talk, you take another glance in the mirror at yourself, you start to ponder it. They were right. It's beautiful and, to be honest, you wanted to tell Steve how you felt tonight so you had to look good.

"Oh, what the hell. Why not," you step into your closet to pick out a pair of shoes to go with the dress.

The three of you headed down to the living room only to split up after a few minutes of chatting. You went straight to the bar after exchanging a goodbye with them. As you placed your clutch on the bar, you leaned over the counter. Tony turns to look at you, shaker in hand and a smirk on his face.

"You actually wore it."

"You wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't," a small laugh escapes your lips, "you're cheap for somebody so rich. And it has kinda grown on me. So thank you, Tony."

"Ah, no problem kid," he pours the drink into a chilled glass, looking back up at you, "besides, it's not really a gift for you specifically."

Confusion racks your brain and you try to piece together what he means. Your bewilderment must've been evident on your face as Tony pushes the drink towards you with a grin.

"It's a gift for him," he nods behind you.

You pick up the drink and take a sip before turning to make direct eye contact with none other than Steve. His expression is almost stoic until he catches your gaze, offering a smile and wave. The gesture is returned by you before turning back to look at Tony's smug face.

"I knew you were up to something."

"Maybe soon enough you'll find out what that something is."

"He does not think of me like that."

"Sure," he scoffs as he makes his way to the end of the bar to grab more glasses.

After a few hours into the party, you're starting to feel socially drained and really just defeated. Two hours and you have yet to find the right time to pull Steve aside, and he's having the same problem. You'd hardly talked at all except for when he bought you a drink earlier in the night. Most of the conversation being made tonight was small talk with some people who sat next to you at the bar, and a few desperate men.

That is, until a man approaches you, "I'm sure you've heard this a lot tonight, but you're absolutely gorgeous. And I'd love to buy you a drink."

His hair is short and dirty blonde, he's got baby blue eyes, and he's definitely handsome. Although he's no Steve, and this isn't something you do often, you could use the cheering up.

"Thank you..?" your voice trails as you wait for him to offer his name.

"Lucas," he grins.

"Lucky for you, I'd love another drink, Lucas. I'm y/n," you smile and pat the seat next to you.

The two of you chat for the next hour and, unbeknownst to you, Steve has the perfect view of you from where he's standing. He can see the beautiful smile you're giving him and the way the man is looking you up and down. Soon enough, the jealousy coursing through him was all he could focus on. That should be him that you're smiling at like that, it should be him down there making you laugh, it should be his eyes practically undressing you. All it took to push him over the edge was the guy putting his hand on your lower back. Now he was even more determined to tell you how he feels.

It's getting late and right as you're about to tell Lucas that you have to go, his phone rings. He quickly excuses himself and leaves to take the call.

A few seconds later, your attention is grabbed by Steve taking the seat next to you. And God he looks even more handsome close up. He's got on a dark blue, fitted dress shirt paired with equally fitted black dress pants. The darker blue is a perfect contrast to his eyes and hair. The shirt brings out the definition of his arms in the best way possible. Thoughts that are the farthest thing from wholesome run through your brain before he even gets a chance to speak.

"Having fun," he smiles at you.

"A little. You ignoring me, Rogers? Haven't talked to you all night."

"Of course not," Steve chuckles, "you were talking to your arm candy. Who would I be to interrupt?"

"That was nothing. It definitely wasn't like that."

"Well, you talked for awhile. Seemed like you were having fun and I just wanted to wait my turn, that's all."

His choice of words makes you giggle, "We're adults, you don't have to standby like a kid waiting for their mom to get off the phone. It's not like there's a long line to speak to me."

And Steve can safely say he's surprised there isn't a long line to talk to a girl like you. You're looking absolutely gorgeous tonight although he's way too nervous to express it to you.

Steve doesn't like the thoughts going through his head at the moment. He tries not to think about you inappropriately, but in times like these it's not easy. You're leaned over the bar counter with your ass practically poked all the way out, the cutout on the back of the dress gave the perfect view of your back, and the fabric fit your figure perfectly.

"That dress is stunning on you, sweetheart," he smiles, taking a sip of his drink.

If it were possible for a heart to do flips, yours just did it.

"Oh! Thank you, Stevie. Tony got it for me."

"Tony, huh? I guess I'll have to thank him, then."

To be honest, Steve was being very blunt and it was making it hard not to kiss him right then. Sometimes you guys would jokingly flirt but something about his tone was hinting that he wasn't joking this time.

"Come with me," he flashes a smile at you, "I wanna show you something."

"Is it important? It'd be rude to run off on Lucas."

Another pang of jealousy makes his stomach turn. He wants to tell you to forget about him, but he knows he doesn't have the right to do that. You're just being your usual sweet self and he knows that. But he can't get rid of the image of the way Lucas was looking at you; he knows what kind of thoughts came with that look because he gives it to you all the time. Like when you're training and your shorts start to roll up to reveal more of your thighs. Or when you're in your suit on missions and your sweat makes it cling to your body. That guy was eye fucking you, and even if Steve hadn't said it to you yet, you were his.

"It's important, it's almost midnight, and I have a surprise for you that's midnight exclusive."

"Alright, alright. It's not like I'll ever see him again anyways," you sigh.

As soon as he sees the corners of your lips turn up, he takes your hand and leads you to the balcony on the top floor. There's no one else up there and he silently thanks the universe for that. Quiet electronic pop music can be heard coming for the speakers. You both sit down on the couch and turn to look at each other.

"So, what's the surprise?"

"Just give it a few minutes," Steve smiles gently at your impatience, "you'll see it after the countdown."

"You know I like surprises. Don't tease me, Steven."

"So," he starts, "I'm sorry you won't get your kiss with Lucas tonight. But I think you'll like my surprise."

"Me? Kiss Lucas? Oh, no, no, no. I don't like him like that. There's...someone else."

He wants to let out a sigh of relief but stops himself. His eyes stay on you as you're looking up at the skylights. The different colored lights on the balcony make your eyes light up, and it also gives him the perfect view of your cleavage. Guilt washes over him at the thoughts he's having again. Then he decides it's the perfect time to tell you- you're alone, it's quiet, and he simply can't hold it in anymore.

"Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Stevie," you say as your face lights up, "you're the best friend I could ask for."

He laughs for a second, thinking of how to explain, "no, not like that. I love you. I'm sorry if this ruins our friendship, but I've been wanting to say this for a while. I have loved you from the moment I met you. Isn't it obvious how infatuated I am with you?"

Your heart stops for a second and the speed at which it beats picks up. After this long, Steve is finally saying the words you've only dreamed of hearing. A few seconds go by and you still can't conjure up a response.

"Listen, I understand if it's alot to take in. I'll leave you alone for a bit if you want," he starts to stand up but your hand pulls him back down.

"Steve-"

A loud crash of thunder stops your sentence early. As if on cue, rain starts pouring from the dark clouds above you. The rain is pouring fast, soaking both of you after only a few seconds.

"Shit. Let's go inside, I don't want you to get sick."

He gets up again but this time you stand up just as quick.

"No! I have been waiting to see this and I'm saying it now."

Your tone of urgency makes him laugh as he waits for you to continue.

"Steven Grant Rogers I have loved you for the last two years. I love you isn't even good enough to express how I feel for you," your smile widens as you keep talking, "you are the only one I can bring myself to think of. I. Love. You."

You stare at each other for a moment, smiles never fading, and then he places his hand on your lower back to draw you closer, "I am-"

This time, it's him being cut off. The sound of people on the balconies below you counting down and cheering is too loud to talk over. Laughter erupts from the both of you and he takes this image of you in. Your hair is wet and sticking to you, the water is making your dress stick to you too, and you've just told him you love him too.

"Can I kiss you?" he yells when they get to 5.

"Please."

His free hand comes to rest on your cheek and he pulls your face to hips. Your lips connect in a slow, passionate kiss. The rain no longer bothers you. Nothing could ruin this.

The sound of fireworks makes him pull away and turns your bodies towards them, "this was your surprise. Best view in the house."

For the second time tonight, your face lights up because of him. He swears there'll be no better feeling than seeing himself make you happy.

"Oh, Stevie... It's beautiful."

"And you're breathtaking, sweetheart."

His hand rubs your back, tracing circles into your skin. The thoughts from earlier start to come back. All he wants to do is bend you over this railing, lift up that short dress, and show you how much he loves you.

You move in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss is needier. It's rough and desperate. A gasp escapes your lips and Steve takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His tongue explores your mouth as he tries to pull you closer. He finds it in himself to pull away, both of you trying to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry if I'm a little bad at that, haven't done it in a while."

"No, sweetheart- it's not that. Trust me. I'm just doing everything I can to avoid losing control. If I'm honest, I've been having horrible thoughts about you since I saw you in this," he admits, motioning down at your dress.

"Who says I want you to hold back?"

His breath catches in his throat before he can respond. He opens his mouth to try again but stops again when you start to reach around and unzip your dress with a smirk on your face.

"What are you doing..?"

"It's cold, and I'm wet," your eyes glance up to meet his, "and you won't make the first move, so I'm doing it for you."

He steps forward and grabs your hand to prevent you from unzipping it any farther.

"Absolutely not. If I'm gonna fuck you, I'm doing it where nobody will see you. I'm not letting anyone else see you like that. As much as I'd love to take you right here on that couch, you're mine, baby," his confidence is evident in his tone.

Steve scoops you up with ease as you giggle, trying to get down, "put me down, I can walk."

"And I can walk faster. I need you."

All you can feel is immense joy. He was finally yours, and you were his. As it turns out, Steve would have to thank Tony for buying you that dress.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fandom #marvel fluff #steve rogers smut

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darylsdelts · 1 month

Note

do u think i could get more daryl x ftm reader smut ? it can be anythingg . also IM SORRY 4 ASKING AGAIN BUT I NEED 2 BE FED AND IM 2 LAZY 2 WRITE . love ur writing 💗

Darylxftm!reader

Mdni, 18+

Warnings: p in v, cream pie, anger, mentions of dysphoria, I think that’s all!

Daryl had a shit day.

He hates being new in Alexandria, he hates all the questions and especially hates all the damn questions from the women.

When carol had asked him to go to the pantry for her, he reluctantly obliged but he internally cursed Carol when he got there.

One of the women that wouldn’t leave him alone was in there.

“So… Daryl, right?” She asked, pretending she doesn’t know.

He grunts as a reply.

“Hm… well… you gotta job around here yet?” She bats her eyelids at him and Daryl visibly winces and looks away, god he hates this.

“Recruitin’”

She steps a little closer.

“Are you… with anyone? Yknow it gets a little lonely sometimes…”

He steps away, not answering her question, none of her business.

He was with someone, you, so eventually he nods, trying to quickly find what carol needed.

“Oh… you are? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Despite the fact Daryl had just told her he’s with someone, her advances didn’t stop, her fingertips grazing his leather vest.

Who’s the lucky woman… for Christ sake.

Daryl grabs her wrist and pushes her off but not too forcefully, knowing that she could turn it into a big thing, getting him kicked out.

He couldn’t get kicked out, needed to be with you, you’re his boy.

The woman hadn’t even considered that Daryl weren’t into women, but no one ever does. He’s not sure why, he supposes it’s either the way he presents himself or if people know about his background, they just assume.

They shouldn’t though, Daryl never assumes anything.

Eventually, Daryl found the damn chocolate for carol and bolted outta there.

Once he stormed into the house he shared with you and Carol, he slammed down the chocolate on the counter in front of Carol.

“What’s up with you?” Carol asks, surprised by he apparent anger.

He groans, “where’s y/n?”.

“Downstairs, in your room I’m pretty sure, you okay?”

“M’fine” he growls.

He turns to head downstairs before stopping, noticing that there were no dishes in the sink.

“S’he even been up ta eat sumthin’?”

Carol frowns as she thinks, “no, I don’t think he has”.

With that, Daryl makes heavy foot steps down the flight of stairs to his basement bedroom, trying to calm himself before entering.

Once he steps in, he sees you, sat on the edge of his bed in just your boxers and a baggy t shirt.

You can sense the frustration straight away.

“What happened?”, you ask gently.

He doesn’t answer yet, striding over to his work bench and shrugging his leather vest off to hang it on the back of the chair.

Then he turns to look at you, he’s got that dark look in his eye which can mean two things. He’s either pissed off… or horny.

Your eyes flit to his jeans and that’s when you notice the bulge at his crotch.

“Yknow what I can’t stand? Hm?”

Now is when you realise he is in fact, pissed off and horny, a combination that you quite like so you smirk a little but try to hide it.

Daryl steps closer so that he’s stood between your legs as he looks down at you.

“Hate when fuckers assume shit…”

He reaches down, hooking under your armpits and lifting you slightly so you’re in the centre of the mattress.

Stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes drag down your body, which is smaller than his.

“Did you assume I wouldn’t find out ya ain’t eaten today, y/n?”

His fingers pull at his belt, undoing it skilfully, eyes not leaving you.

“Told ya to eat sum’n by the time I got back didn’t I?”

He kneels on the bed, his body towering over yours as his hands come to your boxers shorts, tugging at them, pulling them down your thighs.

He pulls them off your ankles so he can spread your thighs apart, seeing how wet you are already when he hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Didn’t I?” He’s eyes move to yours, waiting for an answer.

Your cheeks redden a little at his attention, your thighs trying to close against his force.

“M’sorry, Daryl…”

He holds your thighs apart, “Mm, yer gon’ be, boy”.

Despite being dominant in this moment, Daryl really does treasure you like an angel, he wouldn’t want to force anything on you so he lessens his grip, realising that he’d let his pent up anger get the best of him so far. Despite knowing you quite enjoyed how he was acting, he never wanted to assume.

His hands move to your hips, slipping under your shirt to rub and your sides.

“Can I take this off ya, pretty boy?”.

He always made sure to ask this, every single time, knowing that sometimes you struggled with dysphoria and might be uncomfortable with taking your shirt off.

You nod.

“Need your words, baby boy”

“You can take it off…”

So then he slowly pull the t shirt up off your body, revealing your small chest, no binder.

He was so grateful that you felt comfortable with him like this.

He leans over you and starts peppering kisses across your collar bone and then down your chest to your stomach then he pulls away, taking in the view of your completely naked body, all for him.

He squeezes your hips one more time before undoing the button on his jeans and pulling them down, revealing his dark grey boxers, a small wet patch where his tip is.

He squeezes himself through his boxers gently, groaning.

Your eyes are fixed to his seven inch erection, willing it out of its confines.

Daryl chuckles as he unbuttons his blue striped long sleeve, letting it drop to the floor.

“Needy little thing, ain’t ya?”, he says cockily as you let out a soft whine.

He grabs your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed, then he drops to his knees, hissing your ass cheeks and inner thighs before pressing a single kiss to your swollen clit and he growls into your wet cunt.

You assume he’s going to use his mouth, but then you remember you really shouldn’t assume when he stands back up, pushing his boxers down, his heavy cock springing free.

You lift your head to look down your body, wanting to see every action.

Daryl grips his erection in one hand, tapping his leaking head twice against your throbbing clit, making you gasp.

“What do ya need, Hm?”

“You.” You reply quickly.

“Me?” He teases.

You buck your hips upward, searching for friction, “pleeeease, need you in me, Daryl, please” you whine out.

Daryl lines himself up with your entrance.

“That’s a good boy”

Then he pushes in fast, grunting at the tightness.

“Shit, y/n”

You wiggle you hips slightly, to adjust to his size.

He grips your hips tightly, “none of that, behave” he warned, knowing he won’t last long if you keep up your antics.

Then he pounds into you, roughly, seeking the release of his pent up frustrations from the day.

He leans over you, burying his face into your neck to nip at your flesh as he lets out small whimpers moans whilst you whine like a needy puppy, getting closer to your climax.

Daryl knows, so he moves one hand from your hip to press his thumb against your aching clit and massage circles into it.

“Want ya to cum for me, pretty boy, cmon..”

His words send you over the edge, squeezing your eyes shut and you grip his shoulders, your orgasm taking over your body as your small frame shakes beneath his large one.

The feeling of your inner walls clenching around him makes him gasp as he give a powerful thrust, his hips flush against your as he empties himself into you, you can feel the hot load fill you up.

He pants as he holds himself up on his elbows, his large hands cradling your head as he kisses your forehead.

“Did I hurt ya?” He looks at you with concerned eyes but you shake your head, he gives a relieved sigh.

He shifts his hips back, pulling out gently and then reaching for his boxers.

You frown a little, assuming he was going to give you cuddles like he usually would, but you should never assume.

“Cmon, get dressed… I’ll give ya all the cuddles after ya eat sumthin’, can’t have my boy wastin’ away now, can I?”

You smile a little, he’s so good at taking care of you in his own way.

Once you’re up and dressed, he pulls you into an embrace, holding your head to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair.

“I love ya, y/n”.

You hum, contentedly, “I love you too…”

Please forgive me if this sucks!!

#daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut #norman reedus #twd smut #ftm #ftm!reader #ftm ns/fw

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mistywaves98 · 1 year

Text

✧･ﾟ:* ->Yandere! Al Haitham x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->Week (part) 2 of my 400 followers special! I forced myself to finish this with like 0 motivation so I apologize in advance for anything that seems a little odd

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Non con turned dub con, y'all are implied to be friends, implied belly bulge, gets kinda soft ngl, yandere themes, dark themes, NSFW thoughts, I think that's it!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

✧･ﾟ:* Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

He saw you around the akademiya from time to time, from what he could make out, you were rather lonely, not really mingling with everyone else. He couldn't help but pity your attempts at socialising, often getting ignored when trying to interact with anyone, but he was sure you'd manage someday.

It was surprising when you came up to him one day and shyly asked if it was okay to sit with him, especially since there were other empty benches right next to him, but he still nodded in silent approval, wondering if perhaps you were hoping to try befriending someone again and in all honesty, he just wanted to read his book, but he assumed you would probably give up after a few minutes so he let it slide.

His suspicions were proven correct when you tried to start a conversation, however, it seemed you caught on to the fact that he wasn't really interested in talking so you quickly added that it wasn't necessary for him to speak if he didn't want to.

Al Haitham didn't really think of you to be a chatterbox but people can really shock you sometimes, don't they? You rambled on and on and he was surprised to find himself listening more than he thought he would. When you wrapped your little rant up and bid a him a sweet good bye, Al Haitham found a small part of him hoping you would come back again.

As the days turned into nights and the nights turned into days eventually a few weeks had passed since that first 'meeting' and you had grown much closer to him since day one, you've also had a chance to come over to his residence and even met his roommate.

It had become a daily thing for you two to hang out now and Al Haitham had grown to look forward to your chattering, your voice was so lovely and soothing. Occasionally, he would steal glances at you from behind his book, taking in your happy expression, the way your hair seemed to frame your face perfectly whenever there was a breeze, sometimes trailing his eyes a little lower to admire the way your clothes hugged your figure perfectly...and those sweet tits, they look so soft...he wanted to squeeze them so bad....hm, can you repeat that? He also can't deny the fact he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous when you rambled or even just spoke to anyone else that wasn't him, guy or girl.

He hid those feelings well though, when it seemed he was just focused on reading his book, he was, in reality, seething silently at how well you were getting along with his room mate.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, he couldn't. You were on his mind 24/7. Not to mention how every time he saw you, he resisted the urge to pin you down and take what he really wanted. It was even starting to affect his work, everytime he picked up a piece of paper, he felt as if he was seeing your name written all over it, every face seemed to resemble yours and he swore he saw you walk by from the corner of his eye.

You also noticed he'd become more clingy than usual, insisting that he accompany you to things you'd have never thought he would be interested in. To be honest though, he really didn't care about where you were going, he just wanted to make sure no one tried anything on you.

It gradually became kind of suffocating, you needed some space and you were hesitant to bring it up at first but all you got was a simple nod of acknowledgement, much to your relief. However, whenever you did go out without him, Al Haitham made it clear that you were to come back to his abode before going to your own. Upon arriving, he'd be all over you, hand holding your face tightly as he checked for, what he claimed, 'bruises' (he was actually looking for signs of you hooking up with anyone).

Although it was better than having him follow you around, which he still did at times, you still felt as if you had no privacy. Like if something or someone was always watching and listening to you as you went about your daily life. It made you paranoid. You became anxious and jittery, jumping at the slightest things.

Everytime you were around him you felt uneasy, as if his eyes were always on you, even if he appeared to be busy with other things.

Al Haitham, on the other hand, was secretly smiling at the way you were slowly withdrawing yourself from others, whether you were aware or not, it was only a matter of time before he had you where he wanted you.

When a fellow classmate invited you to see a performance in the Grand Bazaar, he urged you to go (even if it meant you'd have to be with someone else), it would help you relax your nerves after all and relieve some tension. You decided to take his advice with a small smile that twitched slightly when he reminded you to make sure and pay him a visit first before heading home.

While you were gone he managed to get a very bewildered and confused Kaveh out of the house for a while. After tidying up a bit he decided to sit down and wait.

Al Haitham's head snapped towards the door as soon as he heard it creak open, revealing your slightly disheveled form. He was all over you in an instant and his eyes narrowed as he inspected your neck, fingers lightly tracing purple and red marks that could only be described as lovebites.

"What were you doing there?" his voice was low and dangerous as you nervously responded with,"nothing," "Don't lie to me" he grabbed your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Possessiveness and anger swirled around in them as his glare never faltered. "I-it was just a simple hook up! We didn't even do more than a little making out... but besides, why would that be a problem?!"

"Because. You. Are. Mine."

With that, his lips met yours in a rough kiss. Your hands flew to his shoulders, trying to push him away, but you were too weak. Instead, he pinned you against the door with his body as his tongue pried your mouth open.

The hand holding your jaw travelled down to close itself around your throat as the other cupped your clothed breast, giving an experimental squeeze before brushing his hand over your nipple, feeling it harden through the thin fabric. "No bra? Are you sure you did 'nothing'? Dirty whore."

His hand quickly left your chest area to part your legs that were practically glued together at that point. Two fingers rubbed your pantie-covered pussy, making you whimper and try to close them, but the tightening grip around your throat made you stop. After collecting enough of your slick on his fingers, Al Haitham brought them up to your eye level.

"Look at how wet you are, just from a little make out session, I doubt you would've wanted to stop here, or do you?" Tears formed in your eyes from the embarrassment as you lightly shook your head. "I thought so." Those same fingers were shoved into your mouth as the skirt you were wearing was hiked up to your stomach, revealing a pair of pretty green panties with a leaf pattern covering it,"This was my favourite pair, a shame I'll have to do this." Your eyes went wide as the sound of fabric ripping met your ears.

"Do you think you need to be prepped? Or are you too eager to have a man's cock inside you?" Your mind was filled with fear as you heard him unbuckling his belt. "W-wait, please..." "Please what? I'm sure you can take it, right?"

Tears fell from your eyes as you felt him push it in once he was lined up with your hole. Even though he eased it in slowly, the burn was painful, your nails dug into his muscular biceps as you squeezed your eyes shut. Al Haitham's hand came up to wipe away the tears as he bottomed out inside of you.

Your moans were occasionally interrupted by uncontrollable hiccuping from crying as he began thrusting. His thrusts were as deep as they were gentle and you could see the tip of his cock kiss your cervix everytime. He was so big and you knew there would be a bulge in your stomach if you dared to look down, which you didn't.

You hated how you were getting closer and closer to orgasming, you hated how you felt yourself clench around him even tighter as he praised but at the same time degraded you,"Look at you, taking my cock so well like the slutty bitch you are—fuck, you're so tight, are you seriously getting off on being fucked like this by your friend?"

Eventually you came undone with a cry of ecstasy, your legs spasming and mouth ajar, vision gone white for a moment. Al Haitham didn't stop though. "Please stop, 'm still sensitive—n'more..." "You really thought we're done? You must be dumber than I imagined. I haven't had my pleasure yet and we aren't going to be finished until then."

#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memorable moments! ✧･ﾟ:*#smut #x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #yandere #genshin impact x reader smut #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader smut

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Call Sign: Sharky (Platonic)

Part 1, part 2 part 4 part 5

Sorry if parts repeat like some people noticed. There’s not much I can do about it and it seems to be a glitch with the keep reading line. My posts are long and I don’t wanna clog people’s pages so y’all will have to deal with it

Also thank you all for your support!.

The topic of your Call sign is often ones that’s discussed with confusion with 141

Each time you were asked you’d come up with a new story something like “dad was a marine biologist”, “I was raised by sharks sharkboy style and was taken in by the military” or “I just wouldn’t shut up about them”

It leaves all them confused and silently curious

Call signs most of the time have meaning to them

Now some can certainly be stupid or embarrassing but they get them for a reason and Sharky is a specific one

One that came with you when you had found yourself transferred over to 141

Which had meant that only you and your past squadron knew that meaning

And meant ghost, Soap and Gaz we’re clueless as to getting it except from you

Price is not it the same situation as them, partially because he knew your past captain

In fact he’s good mates with him, they had used to serve together before climbing both their ways up the ranks

Even got your recommendation from him

But when he decided to ask the question of your Codename he didn’t really expect that it had more than what meets the eye

“Your wondering about their Codename?.” He questions looking over to Price whom sits beside him at the bar. Price nods, making his old friend laugh a bit and add “I’ll have to give some context first before we get to that point”.

“Context of what?”

“Oh, of when they first joined”

When you had first joined you were much different to how you were now

You were a shy little thing, less confident to how you were now. Downright afraid of the others on your team

There was a very clear and tall wall you put between yourself and everyone else no matter how they tried to reach through to you

It took a long while but after some time one of them had gotten through to you

Salamander, but everyone at the time called him Sal for short

He was an a older soldier, mid-50’s with a wife and kid

It’s that reason why he was able to connect to you, having experience with a child of his own

He showed you the ropes, helping bridge that gap between you and the others

You began to open up more, talking in hushed mumbled before they evolved to full on discussions

You knew a lot of weird and obscure facts, stuff most of them hadn’t known about

You specifically talked quite a bit about marine life since a few of them were ex-navy and you thought that would be funny

It admittedly was especially when you joke that “you’d think they’d teach you about this stuff when your at sea” and “maybe I’m more navy than you guys”

It was nice, you were opening up and some had even began trying to debate each other over call signs for you

They weren’t really sure what to give you yet but it was the mission that finalized it

“The mission?”

“Yeah…the mission. What gave me their name”

The mission was ok at first, that’s the main thing you remember about it

No initial panic just clear waters both figuratively and literally as your footsteps crunch down on golden yellow sand

But then like a nuke dropping everything went to shit

It’s blurry to your mind what had initially happened but you ended up hiding behind some washed up driftwood

Sal was beside you clutching his neck as you did your best to keep him from bleeding out

The shrapnel lodged in his neck was too deep, blood pouring through your fingers as you pleaded with him to hang on

Your vision was blurred by tears as you watched the life drain from him

He often talked about his wife, his kid, and yet he now laid here beside you. Forgotten in the sand as your hands shook

Something came over you, that primal urge that every living creature had in times of peril

The urge to survive no matter what

Your adrenaline was running high, the pops of gunshots making it worse along with the red that began dying the once yellow sand

Your breath is getting quicker as you begin to see red

And then you can’t remember what happened other than the overwhelming feeling of panic and the urge to protect

When the haze over your mind cleared the pungent taste of iron filled your mouth and clogged your nose

You feel shaky, almost as if your entire body was hollow

taking a step back you almost trip over something, making you stumble a bit as you look down to see the dead face of the enemy staring back

Pure terror is twisted on his once moving face that bows stuck in the perpetual horror he died while feeling

Your attention is drawn away when you hear your captains voice, it cuts through the static that muffled the crashing waves and squawking pelicans that sounded so distant

His hand is on your shoulder, his eyes staring down at you with worry as blood dribbled down from your lips

Your dazed and confused. Eyes wide and pupils blown out

“Captain what happened. Why do I taste blood?” It’s such a simple question but it shakes him to his core, you sound so afraid. Like a kid

You are a kid compared to them but this just makes it more obvious

The remaining part of the squadron both injured and tired watch on as their captain talks to you gently

Your shaking like a leaf, blood drenching you as he draped an arm over your shoulder and walked you towards them

You don’t stare at your teammates though, you instead stare at the once blue water that was turned scarlet red

Off in the distance you see the distinct shape of a fin or two poke out from the water

The crashing of the waves felt louder despite the fact you walked farther and farther away

Rolling in and retracting back out in a cycle

You notice near a body in the sand two fingers, discarded and bloodied and a memory flashes in your mind

The enemy, captain, scuffle, bite, spit out, kill, safe, move on

It now explains the blood that isn’t your own that you spit out

You fill in the blanks about what happened by asking your teammates afterwards who are nervous to answer

Seemingly afraid to send you into a panic attack after learning what had happened

Apparently you went apeshit on the enemy, to the point the team did barely anything as you did the brunt of the work

You used your pistol, when you ran out of ammo you used the empty gun and your knife

At some point one had grabbed the captain, was about to put a bullet through his head before you intervened

The human jaw despite how weak it is compared to the bite of something like a dog or a big cat, it’s much more powerful than we give it credit for

Exerting up to Around 125 kg of force or 162 lbs per square inch

Usually something like this doesn’t happen much considering you’d have to get through skin, tissue and tendon but you had done it via your adrenaline

You bitt off the guy’s fingers, not one but two and then spat them out

You then killed him, his body dropping down to the sand just like his fingers did

It’s what earned you your nickname Sharky

You see

Shark attacks are much less common as one would think compared to how their portrayed in the media. Sure, they do happen but it’s less likely for one to be lethal

Your more likely to be killed by a deer or mosquito than a shark

They usually attack when provoked or when confused after mistaking a human for a seal

They dislike our flavour, so after an attack they usually discard us after the initial bite

Much like how rare a lethal shark attack actually is in comparison to other animal related deaths it’s rare that someone can bite off someone’s finger

And like a shark you spat it out

Thus your clever nickname given to you by your teammate Kansas after remembering your ramblings of the aquatic sea creature

“It just kinda stuck after that” he says taking a sip of his beer before placing it down onto the countertop, his thumb circles it’s rim as he looks down into the gold liquid. “Their a good kid. Their happy right?” It comes out as somewhat hoarse, he’s more choked up than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, their happy. Hasn’t been a day I hadn’t woken up to find them with a shit eatin grin”

“Good. Funny how they’ve brightened up from such a shy kid.”

He pulls back from his chair, placing down his cash plus a small tip for the bartender who accepts it eagerly

“Good to see you again Price. I’ll keep in contact” just as he’s about to leave he adds one more thing “ps, they write about you a lot”

“Write?”

#platonic #Sharky y/n #captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader

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