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dreamingonfilm · 1 year

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✧˖*°࿐ Bruises pt. 2 | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, angst

Summary: A week after punching Draco, he finally talks to you. But he comes to realize that love isn’t always the answer.

W/C: 1.8k

a/n: thank you all for the support on the first part! i apologize in advance <3

Part 1 - Read part 1 here !

Your friends laughed once more as you described how Draco’s face looked that day you punched him. It has been a week since then and you haven’t stopped thinking about it. The event still coming up a few times a day, as no one would have expected someone as kind as you to be the reason for the bruises left on Malfoy's face.

As the laughter settled down, you couldn’t help but be curious as to how Draco was doing. You haven’t seen him in a week and in all honesty you couldn’t help but wonder why he hasn’t tried to get back at you for what you did. What you didn’t know was that since the day you stood up for yourself, Draco hasn’t been able to get you out of his head.

Immediately after you got into your common room, the boy turned completely red, his stomach erupting with butterflies as he thought about how your fist felt against his cheek. ‘I’m in love’ was all he could think as he walked to Madam Pomfrey in a daze. Each time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but put his hand up to the yellow and purple bruise to try and remember what your skin felt like.

It was a feeling that was new and confusing to him. He wanted to be mad at you, he wanted to hex you, to feel no remorse as he goes back to making your life a living hell, but for some odd unnamed reason, he couldn’t. He was completely enamored, every thought he had was of you, every time he walked into the Great Hall he would scan the room looking for your oversized robe and mismatched socks, but to his defeat you paid no attention.

On one occasion, Draco even went as far as to wait for you outside your potions class. He stood there for half an hour waiting for you to come outside, but to his dismay, you had skipped class that day to go to Hogsmeade with Harry. He walked back to his room in embarrassment after being caught lurking by Professor Snape.

Despite his unsuccessful efforts, he knew that he would run into you soon. He put all his hopes on today.

The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match was one that you would be sure not to miss, after all your two best friends were a part of the team. You couldn’t help but be grateful for a break from the stress of school and Draco. As you and Hermoine sat down on the stands, you couldn’t help but stare at the boy himself. He looked rather nervous, which was something unusual for someone of his caliber, as he fidgeted with the rings on his finger. His eyes moving back and forth threw the crowd almost as if he was looking for someone, that was until they landed at you.

Letting out a small gasp you quickly looked away. Putting your head down to avoid eye contact with the boy that has made the past few years of your life a living hell. He however, couldn’t stop staring. Normally, he would be confident before a game, but today all he could think about was how you were watching. His stomach turned as he realized that you would be there to see whether he did poorly and embarrassed himself. Breathing in heavily, he tried to collect his nerves as the game started.

“Get it together, Malfoy.” he whispered to himself.

The game lasted for about two hours, the tension in the crowd was rising as the score was nearly tied, Gryffindor in the lead by only ten points. You watched carefully as your friend avoided an incoming bludger, giving you a smile before he took off again in order to find the snitch.

“(Y/N?)” Hermoine interrupted your thoughts, looking at you with a small amount of worry in her face.

“Yeah?”

“By any chance have you talked to Draco?” She asked, giving you a small smile as you were taken aback.

“No, no, I haven’t talked to him since last week,” you answered quietly, turning your head to look at him as he followed along behind Harry, “Why?”

“He’s been staring at you for most of the game.”

“Wha–” you were cut off by the announcer over the speakers of the field.

“Draco Malfoy has caught the Golden Snitch! Slytherin wins!” The stands erupted with applause, cheers and a mix of boos echoing through your ears as you tried to find Draco. Your attempts being cut short as Hermoine grabbed you by the hand and led you down to where the players were.

After about twenty minutes, your friends finally came out to greet you. You gave each of them a hug and praised them for the good game. Your words of encouragement weren’t enough as the boys continued to complain about how unfair the match was, and how if McGonagall wasn’t there they surely would have given him a piece of their mind.

—--

“He’s never played like that, ever!” Harry complained once more as he took a bite out of his, now cold, steak.

“Honestly! It’s like he was trying to impress somebody or something.” Ron agreed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of how they lost.

You glanced over at Hermione with a desperate look, but it was too late. “He was trying to impress (Y/N)! He was looking at her the whole game!”

The boys simultaneously spat out their water, Ron choking a bit as Hermione gave him pats on the back to try and help out. They looked at you in shock, their mouths moving as they tried to come up with what to say but no words came out.

“He was not looking at me! He hates me. We all know that.” You said. Shaking your head as you tried to explain to your friends how there was no way that Draco could ever pay attention to you if it wasn’t without malicious intent.

“So you’re the reason we lost (Y/N), well I have to give it to you, you really did leave a nasty mark on Malfoy. Maybe you knocked something loose.” Ron finally managed to spit out, not before being hit on the back of the head by Hermione.

“You’re implying that (Y/N) is only likable by people who are out of their mind!” She responded while simultaneously rolling her eyes.

“Well actually,” Harry said, “I’m not out of my mind and I quite like –” but was cut off by someone clearing their throat behind you.

You turned around only to be greeted by the devil himself. Your heart started racing, ‘this was it’, you thought, ‘he’s finally come for revenge.’ He shifted uncomfortably as he waited for someone to greet him, but finally spoke once he realized that no one was going to say anything. “(Y/L/N), may I speak to you,” he glanced over your friend's faces for a quick second before continuing, “alone.”

You tried to respond but you couldn’t get a single word out of your mouth. Your breathing quickened in pace as you realized that you were going to be alone with Draco Malfoy once more. Surely you were going to get what was coming.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Shut it, Potter.” He sneered at your friend, “If she doesn’t want to speak with me then she is fully capable of telling me herself.”

“O-okay.” You finally managed to muster out. The sooner you speak with him the sooner you can get it over with. Your friends gave you an apologetic smile as you started to get up from your seat.

“If you need help, just call for me.” Harry whispered in your ear before you left, giving you a kiss on the forehead for reassurance. You smiled and walked off, following the blonde headed boy that was two steps in front of you.

The walk with Draco was unpleasant. Neither of you had anything to say, you both stared at your feet as you walked through the empty corridors of the castle. Looking up at him, you finally noticed the yellow and purple bruise on his jaw. While you wanted to smile, taking it as a token that you won, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the mark you left on him.

Draco turned to look at you, feeling your gaze burning right through him, and finally spoke.

“I just,” he started, “I wanted to apologize for how I’ve been treating you. I was hoping that we could start over.” His eyes still had those golden specks, and the wrinkles showed as he softly smiled.

You couldn’t help but to stare at him in disbelief. Years of being harassed by Draco Malfoy, and now he decides that it’s time for you two to be friends? You were insulted. No amount of time, or therapy, could ever help you get over what he has done to you. You brought your shaky hand up before slapping him right across his bruised jaw, only this time you weren’t scared.

“If you think I can forgive you that easily, then you must be mistaken. I could never forgive you, Malfoy.” You spat out, his face full of confusion as he wasn’t expecting you to answer the way you did.

“But, (Y/N),” he spoke, “I’ve changed. Not to mention, you’re the one that punched me!”

“You deserved it! And I would do it again if I could!” You spat. Your words stabbing him a million times over. He shook it off and brought his hands over yours, your anxiety building up as you had no clue as to what he was capable of doing.

“But (Y/N), I love you.” Draco whispered to you.

You froze. You felt as if the walls were spinning around you, a high pitched screech ringing in your ears as you tried to keep yourself from falling down. He tried to help you, holding on to you, but you refused. You’d rather be cold on the ground than touched by Malfoy. Finally you brought yourself up to his face.

You stared at his eyes, those same eyes that have you captivated time and time again; you took in the way his hair fell in front of his face, the bags that he developed after not getting enough sleep unbeknownst to you that it was because he spent all night thinking of you, the healing cut on his cheek, and that damn yellow and purple bruise.

Draco’s heart was beating out of his chest. Over the past few days all he’s been dreaming about was this moment. He wanted you. He wanted you more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. With a passion that could only come from the universe and stars themselves. He waited patiently for your response.

“Draco,” you began, running your thumb over the cut you left, “I could never love you.”

And then you walked away.

#draco angst #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy imagine #angst #fanfiction

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shares-a-vest · 2 months

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@flufftober Spring Edition Day 2: Banter, Joking, Fun

wc: 650 | Rated: T | cw: None

Tags: Dad-Jokes, Steddie Dads, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson

‘Eddie Munson vs. Multi-Generational Penguin Jokes’

Eddie hums with relief as he pulls the lever on Steve’s recliner and eases himself back. A sense of relief washes over him, the pain in his lower back finally alleviating as he stretches out as far as the chair can go.

“Yes,” he hisses, closing his eyes as he palms around the side table for the latest copy of People, and readies himself for a quiet afternoon of reading.

Joanie is playing in her room and Steve is... well...

Doing something that doesn’t require hogging the squishy comfort of the recliner and allows Eddie the privacy of perusing a gossip rag free from teasing barbs.

He locates the magazine and opens his eyes, flicking to a story about Bruce Springsteen’s handsomeness and tight jeans. If he holds the magazine up to cover his face completely, he might even stay camouflaged enough that even the cats won’t bother him.

Eddie side-eyes the fridge, regretting not indulging in a cold one when his magazine knock-knocks towards him, the punched paper crinkling and warping despite his hands stiffening (and cramping) with a steel-like grip in a feeble attempt to save The Boss’s face.

He straightens up at a snail’s pace – enough to peer over the top of his magazine without completely giving up his comfort.

And sure enough, the magazine-crinkling, interrupting culprit is Joanie, smiling all too sweet in her sunshine yellow summer jumpsuit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Joanie tilts her head to the side, her sweet smile curling into something mischievous, her eyes glistening in a way that leaves Eddie shuddering at the thought he is in fact, looking in the goddamn mirror.

“Can I tell you a joke?” she says more than asks as she clasps her hands behind her back and rocks on her bare heels.

Her cheeks flush and yep – Eddie thinks he might know where this is going...

He leans on his elbow and cranes his neck to listen out for the person who surely put Joanie up to this, all the while keeping a close watch on his daughter. His eyes narrow as he catches a whispered chiding being directed at one of the cats, followed up with a shuffling that sure as hell sounds like Steve’s old man slippers scuffing on the floorboards.

“Fine,” he replies, settling back down to turn his full attention to the resident comedian, adding a huff for good measure.

Joanie grins, too pleased with herself and Eddie gulps. He won’t be able to keep up this uninterested ruse much longer if the little bean before him is going to continue looking that adorable.

“Ummm… Where do… penguins…” she begins, tearing her big eyes away as she musters up everything she can to recall the joke, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she recites, “Where do penguins go to the movies?”

Eddie tosses the magazine aside to free himself up enough to fold his arms, desperate to stifle a whimper as he pea-brain takes him back to exactly where he had heard this one before.

“Wouldn’t have a clue,” he blurts out, lying.

“The dive-in!” Joanie beams, jumping with her arms wide open at the punchline.

She chuckles away through a toothy grin that quickly fades into a frown.

“Who told ya that one?” Eddie asks, knowing the answer.

Steve first told him this joke years ago, back in Hawkins when they first started kinda-sorta-not not dating and they went to the drive-in two towns over. Back when Eddie realised the Harrington Charm also involved many lame jokes that worked a little too well on him.

“No one,” she shrugs, turning to the hall.

They both look up to find Steve poking his head out from Joanie’s room.

“He didn’t laugh!” Joanie all but screams.

“What!” Steve replies in disbelief, stepping out into the open, “But that one’s a classic.”

#fluffspring2024 #day 2 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie dads #steddie as girl-dads #okay back on a posting schedule for these now

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storydays · 3 months

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Radio Killed the Video Star P2

(3rd Pov)

*In the Vs' Tower*

"We have a problem." Vox grumbled as Valentino's assistant passed out their drinks. "Alastor is getting close to the royal Morningstars. So our main concern now is ensuring that no deal is ever struck between Lucifer's brats and that smiling freak." He rolled his eyes at the thought of the red demon.

"Well, how exactly are we supposed to stop it?" Velvette replied, looking up from her phone. "Put something inside them. That's how I get the bitches to behave." grinned Valentino from where he was decorating his gun.

"Well, maybe someone on the inside isn't such a bad idea." hummed Vox before he pointed at the moth. "Do you think Angel would?"

"That lanky prick won't even return my calls." scoffed Val.

Sighing, Vox stood up and walked around to the window. "We need someone who little Miss Bleeding Heart would take in."

"Someone pathetic, desperate, with no direct ties to us." Velvette listed. "I employ every down on their luck loser this side of hell. Who the fuck is left?" Valentino wondered. Vox chuckled before turning to his partners with his hypnosis eye glowing. "I think I have just the one." he grinned.

*Back at the hotel*

Alastor's shadow demon minons lounged around the bar, Tommy stretching his arm, having pulled a muscle, when Charlie and Vaggie came back from their search, defeat written on their faces. Charlie groaned dramatically as she flopped onto the couch, face first.

Angel perked up hearing the princess; "Sooo, how'd it go?" he asked, smiling and turning his attention to his phone. "Not a single new recruit," Vaggie sighed.

"Yeah, well, who would want to use their last days not fucking and fighting?" shrugged Angel. "More than you'd think, Angel." (Y/N) yawned as he walked down the stairs, Rocco trailing behind him.

After his mope feast in his room, the blond demon fell asleep reading one of his romance novels, and had slept for a good 6 hours. 'Great, now I'll be up all night.' (Y/N) thought to himself as he sat on the far end of the couch, running a hand through Charlie's braid in a comforting manner.

"Well, look who's finally awake. I missed you, baby. Did you dream of me, sweets?" Angel purred, leaning over to run a hand over (Y/N)'s wings, grunting when (Y/N) playfully fluffed his wings in Angel's face.

(Y/N) chuckled, feeling smug at finally getting the spider back. Angel wasn't one to be outdone, so he teasingly ran a finger between the prince's shoulder blades in the middle of his back, giggling at the involuntary shivers that ran through his body.

A sudden knock on the door turned Vaggie's attention from the men flirting, and approached the door, to reveal Sir Pentious, who smiled brightly. "Why, hello, my dear--" he yelped as Vaggie punched him in his face before pulling her angelic spear out and pointing it at him.

"Wait, wait, wait! I come in peasssse (peace)." The snake demon made peace signs with his hands with a wobbly smile.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Vaggie. "Vaggie, what's the problem?" asked Charlie, still feeling sour from her failed search.

She gasped seeing the snake. "Oh, hello again." Vaggie let him up as she watched him suspiciously. "I didn't come looking for a fight. I uhh..I heard that you're helping people. People who want to be better?" The snake asked more than stated.

Charlie gasped excitedly, before dragging the snake behind her, chattering happily, leaving Vaggie to scowl at the snake. "You heard right. Welcome to our home of healing. Our resort of restoration. Our--" The princess was cut off by Angel Dust stopping her in the door way.

"Are you fucking nuts? This chump was tryin' to kill us, like, literally 6 hours ago. And now you wanna bring him in her to live with us?" Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely!" Charlie grinned, "This place is about second chances, and who deserves one more than this...slithery...slippery...special little man?"

Looking at Vaggie, Angel asked, "Aren't you supposed to protect this place?"

Vaggie made the mistake of looking at Charlie's (well timed and manipulative) puppy dog eyes. She sighed heavily before shrugging, "I...guess he's not much of a threat without the war machine.." Sir Pentious' hood lifted as he grinned brightly, "Or even with the war machine." Vaggie thought, making the snake visibly deflate.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Charlie squealed before running over to the demon. "Sir Pentious! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!"

"Oh no, darling, thank you. You won't regret thissss." He chirped happily, slitheirng in after the princess.

"Eh, I give you a week...tops." Angel shrugged, following them inside.

"So..this is the bar and the bartender." Charlie grinned at a drinking, scowling Husk. "And this is the curtain, and this is the new wall after you broke the last one, heh and, oh, this, this is-" Charlie was cut from her excited rambling by Vaggie pulling her arm.

"Babe, you don't have to show him every detail." she placed her hand on her hip, watching the demoness.

"Sorry, I'm just excited to have our first real guest!" Charlie grinned.

"Uh, what the hell am I, then?" demanded Angel Dust, as he narrowed his eyes at Charlie.

"Well, you're an important part of our family here, Angel. But you um, uh..." "Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass (Y/N) and Husk, and have literally never once tried to improve?" Vaggie listed.

"What she means is, it's just nice to have someone be interested for a change." Charlie sugar coated, gesturing at the snake who eyed everything suspiciously.

She walked over to the red eyed demon, introducing Niffty, not noticing Angel's frown on his face. As Charlie continued to introduce Niffty, saying that they were 80% sure she was harmless, she bumped into the Radio Demon, she grinned nervously.

"Oh, uh, Alastor, our gracious Facility Manager." Turning to Alastor, she continued, "You've met our newest guest, Sir Pentious...heh heh."

"Ah yes. You're the one who ruined my coat. I definitely remember you now." He grinned sinisterly, eyes glowing an eerie red.

"Well...I guess this is a great time for your first lesson. Ahem, 'How to apologize.' The first step to becoming a better person is to admit when you're wrong. Why don't you give it a try?" Charlie pushed Sir Pentious towards Alastor who grinned lazily.

"Yes, um...Mr um..Radio Demon, sir, please forgive me for attacking you and ruining your very lovely coat...Um, here." He nervously gave back the piece he'd ripped off of Alastor earlier in the day.

"Oh-ho! Not many people have been able to take even this much off me." He looked at Sir Pentious with a condescending smile, "It must've meant quite a lot to you."

Sir Pentious and Charlie watched with wide eyed looks as Alastor burned up the piece of coat with a wicked grin.

(Y/N) laughed loudly from where he was observing at the top of the stairs. "Pfft, hahaha! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're faces were too much for me." He snickered, wiping a tear away from his eye, making his way down towards the group.

"Oh! And Prince (Y/N) he's also my big brother! He's also my advisor when it comes to business administration. And he's my bestest friend." The siblings shared a fist bump, sharing matching grins.

"Welcome to the Hazbin hotel, Sir Pentious. I've got to say, your machines are something to wonder at. I'd love to go over the mechanics sometime." (Y/N) held his hand out for a handshake, yelping when the snake hugged him, "Nobody's ever admired my skillssssss.! We are going to be great friendssss." sobbed Pentious.

Angel was now full on glaring at the snake...how dare he touch (Y/N) like that?! It took a while before (Y/N) allowed anyone new to touch him.

"Um..Charlie? Isn't it time for our daily activity?" squeaked (Y/N), clearly uncomfortable in the snake's grip.

*Time skip*

(Y/N) was sitting in his favorite arm chair, Angel Dust leaning protectively on his legs, letting the blond run his fingers through Angel's head fluff. It was so soft, he couldn't resist and Angel certainly didn't mind, if the slight purring the spider was doing was an indication.

Angel scrolled lazily through his phone, Vaggie and Pentious sitting on the floor listening as Charlie spoke.

"Now! With a new resident, I think it's important we all get to know each other, so we are going to play a little game. Everyone, follow me.

"🎵My name is Charlie," she claps twice and kneels down to smile at Vaggie's love struck look, "I like to sing," She stood up gesturing to everyone, clapping again. "And when we get to know each other, it's the greatest thing!🎵" Charlie clapped once more and gestured to Sir Pentious.

(Y/N) smiled; that was a game he taught her when she was a kid.

"🎵My name's Sir Pentious," claps twice, "I like to build," claps twice again, "And despite my stupid Egg Bois, I think I'm very skilled🎵." He clapped twice for the last time before he and Charlie both gestured to the white furred spider.

He stopped the quite purring, and looked up from his phone with a look of irritation. "This is stupid." Angel deadpanned. (Y/N) snorted softly as he brushed the white fur back.

"🎵This is not stupid!" Charlie claps twice with a forced smile, "It's just the game. Sir Pentious did it well, so now please try to do the same.🎵'" She twirled in front of Angel who sighed, pinching the bridge of his beak(nose).

"I am too sober for this." (Y/N) tugged his hair slightly in a playful warning.

"Ooh, harder, Daddy~" fake moaned Angel, yelping in surprise when the blushing prince actually tugged harder in retaliation.

"Well, get used to it and learn how to play. 🎵This is gonna be your whole day 🎵 ." Vaggie clapped twice with a smirk at the glare Angel sent her.

*Timeskip*

"Oh, I'm a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs. Now, where's an innocent kid I can sell crack to?" Angel read from the script, feeling like an idiot. He glared slightly as (Y/N) wore the biggest shit eating grin from where he was standing behind the others who sat on the couch.

Breaking character, he hissed at the prince, "Don't you say a word."

He was dressed like a homeless man, and Sir Pentious was licking a lollipop wearing a uniform. "Wow, who wrote this?" Angel asked aloud, smacking the script. "It's great, right. Keep going." Charlie grinned like a school girl.

The Italian sighed heavily before continuing, "Hey you." He faked called Pentious. "Who me?" asked the snake in a child like tone.

"Yeah, you look like a kid who could use some devil's dandruff?" Angel squinted his eyes, sliding a hand down his face in disbelief. "Oh, for fucks' sake."

"Not me. I have to go home and sssstudy."

"C'mon, kid, it'll make you cool like me...." Angel paused, hearing (Y/N)'s snickering, and felt his body drop at the dumbass script in his hand, "The crackhead."

(Y/N) couldn't hold it back anymore before he laughed loudly. He was laughing so hard, he fell on the floor behind the couch,tears pooling in his eyes from laughing.

The others' waited for him to finish, so they could hear the play. Charlie rolled her eyes at her brother with a fond smile. It'd been a while since he'd laugh like that. Angel smiled, hearing (Y/N) belly laugh. 'No, I'm supposed to be mad at him, right now.' He thought stubbornly, cheeks flushed.

"The only cool thing here is to sssay no to drugsss. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!" declared the snake proudly. (Y/N) finally finished his giggles, and was standing back up, watching with weary grin.

"Yes! Oh, bravo, bravo!" cheered Charlie as she clapped excitedly. "Wow, Pentious, at this rate, you'll be redeemed in no time."

"I-I'm going to bed." Angel announced, a funny tone in his voice. He walked away briskly, but not before (Y/N) caught his downcast face. He frowned thoughtfully before teleporting to who knows where.

Angel paused at the steps as he listened to Charlie, "I am so proud of you, Sir Pentious." He turned to watch the interaction. "That was amazing. That was beautiful work today." "Thank you, thank you. You like me, you really like me." preened the snake, bowing slightly.

In his room, Angel shrugged off the costume he was wearing, throwing it on his beloved pet pig, who snorted curiously before laying on his bed and curling on his side.

He pulled his phone out and scrolled through the voicemail he'd received.

Sighing, the spider demon clicked on a random one to listen, "Angel, baby, come home. It's not the same without you here. I miss you, come back." Val's voice cooed before turning angry, "Angel, you bitch, if you don't come home, you will be fucking greasy truck drivers for the next year."

"You fuckin' slut!"

"Hey, Angie, about earlier--"

"Kill your whole fucking fam--"

"Work's really stressful--"

"Little cocksucking piece of shit--"

"You actually think you can change?" The pornstar gasped, sitting up and watching the red smoke curl in his room as he listened to this voicemail. "Addict trash like you doesn't change. I'll see you soon, baby." Angel snapped out of his thoughts as his pig nudged him with his cold snout, looking for attention.

"Sorry, not now, Fat Nuggets." He apologized before heading downstairs.

*Downstairs*

Angel grabbed a bottle of alcohol and started chugging away. "Aah..." He sighed, before seeing a shadow move. "Huh?"

He followed the light to see a door open..and not just any door, the door to (Y/N)'s office was opened. (Y/N) usually was so careful about letting people in there, the prince only Angel himself and Charlie in there. But the blond demon wouldn't leave his office open so carelessly, so someone broke in.

He walked over to the door and peeked an eye in, gasping seeing Sir Pentious placing a camera in (Y/N)'s bookshelf.

"You slippery little shit!"

Sir Pentious yelped at being caught before turning to see the angry spider.

"You're working for the Vees? I fucking knew there was something shitty about you." Angel pointed an accusing finger at the snake who scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, whorebug!" smirked Pentious before Angel growled and tackled him, starting a brawl.

Spoilers: Angel was winning.

"Get your aggressively average body off of me!" screamed Pentious, hypnotizing Angel.

"Fuck!" Angel screamed as he obeyed unwillingly. Sir Pentious hissed as he slithered away to the bookshelf to get some space. Angel narrowed his eyes approaching, just as (Y/N), Charlie and Vaggie appeared, the women who were clearly sleeping, yawned and watched them blearily.

"What's going on?" asked Charlie.

(Y/N) had a box in his hands, and he tilted his head. "Why the hell are you in my office, Pentious?"

"Oh, the door was opened and I was looking for you, Prince (Y/N), when this spider burst in here and attacked me!" "Yes, my door was open, because sometimes Angel keeps me company when insomnia hits us both hard. So I leave it open and we stay up together until we fall asleep." explained (Y/N), missing the knowing looks Vaggie and Charlie shared.

"This little bitch is a traitor!" Angel snapped, holding Pentious arm firmly.

"Preposterous, I would never betray you. You...are my best friends." lied the snake as he pulled Charlie and Vaggie into a group hug. He tried to hug (Y/N) as well, but last time he did, the prince threatened to skin him and let the cannibals from Cannibal Town eat him....alive with his Egg Bois as a side.

Safe to say, everyone was disturbed as (Y/N) made that threat with a smile on his face. Angel found it hot as fuck though...

"Uh-huh. Then explain this." Angel moved one of (Y/N)'s books aside to reveal a video camera, starting to record.

Pentious noticed the shocked looks from Charlie and Vaggie before feeling a dangerous glare at his back.

He shakily turned to look at (Y/N) who was grinning darkly, fangs glinted in the light dangerously; his eyebrow twitching in anger, mixed eyes glowing an deadly red. "Hmm, looks like I'll be following through with that threat after all." He set the box down, and started approaching the Snake.

"Ah! Ah! Abort! Abort! SOS Agent Pentious in need of immediate evacuation!" screamed the snake into a wrist watch as he tried to leave the wrath of the prince.

"Pentious? Wait...you were caught? It hasn't even been a day!" Vox laughed.

Pentious side eyed the hotel members who stood in front of the other exit. Vaggie was now wielding her spear, Charlie holding her hand over her mouth in worry, Angel crossing his arms, while one of his lower arms rested on (Y/N)'s upper back as a way of grounding the pissed off prince.

"Please, you've got to get me out of here!" begged the snake. "I can't believe we thought you could handle even something this simple. Do us a favor, if they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure!" Vox screamed, short circuiting the watch.

(Y/N)'s malicious bloodlust calmed hearing how Vox talked to the snake.

Yes, he was an idiot..but no one deserved to be told to kill themselves. He looked down thinking of...them.

"I--Just make it quick I guess. Not that I deserve it." Pentious laid down sadly, waiting for someone to hurt him. "Gladly." Vaggie growled, before being stopped by (Y/N).

"(Y/N)?" asked Angel, watching the prince as he held a hand out to the snake. "Pentious?"

"Good first day." Charlie sighed happily, reaching a hand out to Vaggie as they walked to bed. "Let's get some rest."

The group walked out of the library, (Y/N) grabbing the camera to dispose of, Angel following behind him.

After a few minutes later, a shadow grinned before Alastor appeared in (Y/N)'s office and picked up the discarded watch, starting it with his powers.

"What?" snapped Vox before he realize who was on the other side. "You'll have to try harder than that next time, ol' pal." Alastor grinned, as Vox screamed on the other side, his laughter echoing in the TV demon's ears.

*With (Y/N)*

He'd pulled Angel out onto the private balcony that came he'd built for his room, the spider lounging on his favorite swing seat that (Y/N) made for him. The two continued to grow closer everyday, and since they hang out so much, the prince wanted the spider to be comfortable. (Y/N) appeared next to Angel, holding out a glass of a red wine with ice on top and an orange slice on the rim.

The Italian mobster raised an eyebrow at the drink. "Relax, it's a Balisteri Cherry Wine. You look like you could use it." (Y/N) showed the other glass in his hand, offering a soft smile when Angel took it. He then sat himself on the railing near Angel, one leg tucked under him, the other hanging over the ledge.

"I'm glad you're here Angel. I'm sorry it took so long for someone to say this but: You're very special, and I know underneath, there's somethin' special just waiting to be unlocked....you just need someone to help you unlock it. I'd like to be that person if you'd let me." (Y/N) blushed slightly before turning to the spider who looked at him with a soft look before replying,

"I'd like that."

*End! For the song, imagine it was a male Charlie singing..I could't find a male version yet.*

See you guys next time!

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin niffty #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin angel dust #x male reader #viziepop #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin spoilers

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 5 Prompt: Grinch vs Christmas Cheer

Tags: Modern AU, Eddie Munson & Jeff, Steve & Eddie Are Neighbors, Teacher Steve, Meet Cute

wc: 1863 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I thought you said you talked to them?” Eddie groans. He tips his head so far back he wobbles in the chair for a moment before he rights himself and buries his head in his hands. “I can’t work under these conditions!”

“I don’t think planning a campaign counts as working,” Jeff teases.

They’re in their apartment kitchen. Jeff cooking something that smells a hundred times better than the vending machine sandwich he had for lunch at the shop. Free from his day job, Eddie’s working on something he actually cares about now. The latest Dungeons & Dragons handbook is open to a random page while his trusty notebook sits open. There’s no use in hiding it from Jeff. It’s not like he could decipher Eddie’s chicken scratch penmanship anyway.

Besides, he hasn’t gotten much of anything done since he plopped down on the worn leather chair. It’s hard to work with the blaring sound of Mariah fucking Carey’s Christmas album playing on repeat for the third day straight coming from their neighbor's apartment. The obnoxious whirling of the fans keeping a dozen or so Christmas inflatables blown up on their shared stairwell and balcony also doesn’t help.

If this continues any longer, Eddie swears he’s going to find them a new place to live. The peace and quiet would be worth losing out on their rent-controlled place. At least, Eddie thinks so. Christ, he misses the Richards who moved last year. He’d take their scowls and snide comments over this Christmas madness any day.

“It absolutely counts as working,” Eddie scoffs, shooting a glare in Jeff’s direction. “And don’t change the subject, Jefferson. Did you even talk to Mr. and Mrs. Claus next door?”

Jeff snorts, shaking his head before returning to the pot of sauce he has simmering. “No, I didn’t and I’m not going to.”

“Jeff!” Eddie whines. “Your job as the approachable one of this house is to confront our neighbors when they’re annoying us.”

“Okay, but they’re not annoying me.”

“Well, that’s a lie. You hate Michael Buble as much as I do and I know you heard his stupid crooning voice at seven this morning like I did.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Jeff sighs, turning away from the stove to face Eddie. “But I can’t tell them to lower their music! Not when they haven’t complained once about the shit you blare at all hours of the night or our Corroded practices when we have nowhere else to go.”

If Eddie was less stubborn, maybe he’d see that Jeff has a point. But he is stubborn, so he doubles down instead.

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

“Fine,” Eddie shouts, throwing his hands up in defeat. The headache festering behind is eyes is too painful for him to keep arguing with Jeff. Besides, he’s never been able to push Jeff around. It’s why they make such good roommates. “Can you at least talk to them about their decorating habits then? I had to wade through a fucking forest of inflatables this afternoon. M’pretty sure Frosty the fucking Snowman almost punched my balls.”

“Eds, need I remind you that a few days ago you had the entire place decked out for Halloween? How is a few inflatables different than all those skeletons and demon shit you had up?”

“First of all, how dare you compare my artistry to whatever is going on outside,” Eddie scoffs. He’s going to give himself a sore throat if he keeps this up. “I have taste. My decorations told a story! Those inflatables aren’t even from the same properties. They’ve got Santa Mickey next to the fucking Grinch! Charlie Brown mingling with Yoda! There’s no plot!”

Jeff’s shoulders slump, forearms coming to rest on the kitchen counter so he’s at eye level with Eddie. “Just look on the bright side. At least they haven’t done one of those obnoxious light shows like that stupid reality show.”

As if Jeff accidentally summoned a demon in the form of Christmas cheer, a burst of red and green floods their apartment. Their once dimly lit kitchen looks like the inside of a club, red and green lights flickering with the occasional white and blue mixed in. The flickers are timed with the beat of another Mariah Carey Christmas song.

This is what hell must look like, Eddie thinks, as he glares at Jeff.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jeff defends, hands up in surrender.

Eddie can seem him struggling not to laugh and it takes all the energy he can muster not to reach around the counter and playfully punch his shoulder. How can Jeff think this is funny? The flickering lights completely goes against their moody aesthetic! Not to mention it’s a health hazard! There’s no way Gareth is going to be able to come over here — not with the way he’s so sensitive to strobes.

Jesus H. Christ and it’s only November 25th! He has to put up with this for weeks!

“It’s not funny, Jefferson!”

“I mean,” Jeff snorts, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from growing. “It’s a little funny.”

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

The lights have not fucking stopped. Not for one single day. Eddie had hoped his neighbors would have grown tired of the constant strobing and Christmas music by now. But nope. A week and a half and its still going strong.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

“Jeff,” Eddie hisses, lifting the blanket of his makeshift fort enough that he can make eye contact with Jeff. Or at least, try to. Jeff’s perched in their recliner with the biggest pair of sunglasses Eddie’s ever seen. “Please. I can’t take much more of this!”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I might have believed you if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous things,” Eddie snorts. He waits for Jeff to retort but when he doesn’t, he groans and slowly emerges from the safety of his blanket fort. Christ he forgot how bright those damn things are.

Stalking over to their small entryway, Eddie hastily tugs on a pair of boots and reaches for the doorknob.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asks, voice laden with concern.

“Someone has to confront the neighbors!”

He doesn't give him time to respond, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him in one fluid movement. It should be a short trip to the neighbor's front door, just a few long strides, but Eddie forgets to account for the fuckton of inflatables cluttering the path. He ducks around Frosty, flipping him off when his stupid wood arms nearly deck his balls, again and forcibly shoves Mickey’s face away from him.

It takes another bit of carefully navigating before he finally reaches the front door adorned with a festive wreath. These people really left no spot undecorated. Eddie doesn’t spare them the decency of a nice, neighborly knock or ring of the doorbell. They’re way past that. Instead, he makes a fist and slams his knuckles into the wood door, and keeps going. Knock. Knock. Knockknockknock.

They probably can’t hear him over the damn music, Eddie thinks, as his knuckle turns redder and redder. Just when he’s about to retreat and face Jeff’s smug wrath, the door opens.

The first thought that passes through Eddie’s mind is oh, he’s hot. The second, more vital thought, comes a moment later. He’s going to kill Jeff. How dare he not disclose how attractive this guy is the minute he met him months ago?

The guy, who Eddie vaguely thinks is named Steve, looks just as surprised to see him as he is. Decked out in an obnoxious Santa-themed apron and green plaid flannel pants, his cheeks are spotted with flour and his hands are stained a faint red color. Judging from the delicious aroma of vanilla and peanut butter wafting into the hallway, Eddie interrupted some very serious baking.

“Oh, you’re not the Instacart shopper,” maybe Steve frowns. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh,” Eddie trails off. He’s here for a reason, he knows this, but his mind is blank. Distracted by the smells and the lights and the gorgeous fucking man standing in front of him with hazel eyes so sparkly Eddie’s pretty sure he belongs in a cartoon. “I’m Eddie, your neighbor.”

I’m Eddie, your neighbor?

This cannot be the same brain that creates intricate, plot twist-ridden campaigns that last months. Absolutely not.

“Ah, so you’re Jeff’s roommate! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Right, Steve” Eddie nods. He’s not sure why he nods, it’s not a normal thing to do when you meet someone, and yet, he can’t stop nodding. Stop fucking nodding!

“So, uh, what brings you by?” Steve asks, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, I uh…” The lights. You were coming here to complain about the lights! “I came to tell you, uh… I could smell you baking!” Oh my fucking god. “You know these walls are thin and we, uh, share AC vents or something I think? So the smell was filling our place and it smelled so good I just, uh, had to come over and see what you’re baking?”

If Jeff was here, Eddie’s pretty sure he’d be two seconds away from collapsing in a fit of laughter. Thank god he’s not. As soon as he gets back to his room, he’s going to take a lukewarm shower and try to forget this entire interaction ever happened and then hide from Steve for the rest of his life.

“Oh, I’m making peanut butter cookies.” Steve’s smile is almost as blinding as the twinkling lights and like a moth to a flame, Eddie can’t look away. “One of my students has been having a rough time and they’re their favorite.”

“Damn, maybe if I had a teacher who baked me cookies I would have done better in school.”

Steve laughs, “Tell me about it. Actually, uh, do you want to help? I’m allergic to peanut butter and my best friend is tied up at work. I could really use a taste tester. Make sure they’re edible.”

“Oh, uh…” Eddie glances over his shoulder and takes in the sight of the sea of inflatables staring at him with their beady painted on eyes, squints at the obnoxious flashing lights keeping time to a terrible cover of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Together it’s the reminder he needs as to why he trekked over here in the first place, but when he turns he’s hit with a punch of peanut butter and well… “Not to toot my own horn, but I am a pretty good taste tester.”

“Perfect,” Steve smiles, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Kitchen’s this way.”

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

Eddie returns an hour later. Belly full of joy just peanut butter cookies, but also chocolate chip, and gingerbread, and some cinnamon concoction that had him considering a marriage proposal on the spot and a tupperware overflowing with said cookies.

Jeff is still in the living room, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he’s judging him.

“Don’t say a word,” Eddie sneers, heading straight for the kitchen.

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fan fic #steddie fluff #steddie meet cute #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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haphazardlyannotated · 1 year

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Steven Universe told from the perspective of other characters

Garnet: A story of gay empowerment from start to finish. As a book it would be titled either Made of Love or Stronger Than You and feature Garnet's gauntlets with her wedding rings on them as cover art.

Amethyst: A seemingly wacky coming of age story that drops the most heartfelt moments when your guard is down. The cover resembles kids' detective stories, the kind where the whole gang is looking around for clues to the mystery.

Pearl: Everything up to Rose's death is an ancient literary classic titled The Ballad of Rose Quartz, illustrated with intricate inkbrush paintings. Steven Universe season one to three is the kind of introspective life after tragedy novel you pick up to look sophisticated reading. It's probably titled Without Her or something similiar. I don't have a title for season four and onwards, but the blurb is "it's not easy to manage twenty girlfriends, two life partners, a son and a dark past at the same time!" It's much more lighthearted than the previous two, but still prone to punching you in the emotions with little warning.

Connie: A magical adventure series just like the Unfamiliar Familiar! It centers Steven the magical boy with his best friend and eventual love interest Connie as the female lead. The tone gets a little darker after the first book/season, but less so than the original Steven Universe (let alone Steven Universe Future).

Greg: First a coming of age story, but unlike Amethyst this one is about breaking away from toxic people in your life. This story gets its happy ending when Greg finally finds someone he can be himself with in Rose. The time until Rose's death is a romantic comedy titled My Girlfriend, her Girlfriend and Me and conists mostly of shenanigans. After Rose's death and Steven's birth, it turns into something more bittersweet centering Greg's worries about being an adequate father to his magical son.

Peridot: It's titled How I learned to stop worrying and join the Rebellion and is easily the most lighthearted installment here. Our dorky protagonist is very obviously a somewhat unreliable narrator, but in a funny way. She encounters a few struggles, but they are quickly overcome with the power of friendship.

Lapis: This is just multiple whump fics. They're in a collection titled Bad Things Happen Roulette. Steven Universe the Movie is a pretty standard fantasy adventure with a group of powerful heroes though, and Steven Universe Future is the fluff fic with a smidge of angst you'd read as a pick me up after Bad Things Happen Roulette.

Bismuth: The war is a good vs evil sci-fi story with lots of social commentary. The Diamonds are definitely irredeemable here. I don't know what to do with the few episodes of the original Steven Universe she was in, but the movie is an empowerment narrative against systemic oppression titled Still Standing, or something in that style. Steven Universe Future however is a romantic comedy.

Rose: This is just a straight (well, bi) up tragedy. Our protagonist desperately tries to recover from her childhood trauma and be a good person, but is ultimately unable to escape the prison of her own mind. The book wins several literature prizes, but very few people actually read it because it's just too depressing.

#su #steven universe #su garnet #su amethyst #su pearl #connie maheswaran #su peridot #su lapis #su bismuth #su rose quartz #garnet #amethyst #pearl #peridot #lapis #bismuth #rose quartz

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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Let’s Be Closer

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly NSFW, but not much, & language.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: Back with another one! I’ve been working on this for a few days, and I’m really nervous, as I’ve channeled a lot of my energy into this fic, because I’ve not been in a good mindset—at all—so I added a little Eddie to help, and I hope it makes anyone who is going through something similar, to feel better, even if it’s just a morsel? My ask box is ALWAYS open if you ever need someone to talk to—that goes for anyone that reads this, and is feeling badly or lost, or even in general—I’m here! I understand and I hear you, and I’m not going anywhere!! Hope this is okay?

Enjoy! - Kristen <3

~*~

He’d tried calling you, fingers raw from the damned dial button, eyes blurry without sleep for what is the sixth night in a row. You never ignored his calls, you never missed a club meeting—despite never playing the game, but bringing snacks and your branding charm, instead. You never explicitly dodged him in the hallways of Hawkins High, you never missed a chance to wave his Zippo lighter at his band’s shows—their number one fan since founding, and you sure as shit never went a day—hell, even an hour without seeking him out. He misses your hands pressing over his eyes, decorative bangles caressing his cheeks, how he’ll never know what shampoo you’ve decided to use this time brimming his senses. Eddie Munson needs you.

And you’re just… gone. He’s seen you at school, sure, but that’s not what he’s currently worrying a bitten down thumb nail over. He’d bugged every friend he could talk to, running over all scenarios where he might’ve upset you somehow—no results produced. Your last night together was a movie and some burgers. He’d treated you to a shared chocolate shake after, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

You swore you would master the art of tying the stem one day, and damn it if Eddie didn’t get his kicks from seeing you try to work that cute tongue to accomplish it. You’d both sat on his favorite quilt your mom helped you sow him for Christmas a few years back, van doors open, drinking in the soft serenity of nightfall, overlooking Lover’s Lake. Perfection, peace, that’s what the day’s events contained. Eddie never noticed anything unusual about you, just extraordinary—as always.

His very own confidant. Ride or die, as you’d promised him.

Except… apparently, not anymore.

Eddie is caught between anger at your automatic dismissal, treating him as most of your shared peers, to gnawing nausea that something is seriously wrong. And as his uncle asks him where you are, obviously confused at your lack of presence in the Munson household—being angry wins out.

~*~

Rainstorms are always a bitch in any context, but Indiana seems to pack a solid punch when unpredictable Mother Nature is visiting. Eddie can barely see through his crappy wipers, windshield rain soaked and battered in pounding thumps. Your house glitters above the surface of heavy drops, visible by its glowing inhabitation. Eddie cuts his engine, fingers idle across the monogrammed skull charm keychain you’d gotten him, dangling from his key ring.

Fuck it.

Clambering from his rust bucket ride, he jogs his way up your empty drive, seeking solace on your small porch. Your parent’s cars are gone, yet the normal lamps cast their buttery glow through your windows. He isn’t a man that prays, but he’ll do anything if he can ask you what the fuck your problem is lately, and, you know—check on your well—being, or however the fuck it’s supposed to sound. Heaving in an exerted breath, Eddie presses a finger over your doorbell, legs bouncing back and forth in an anxious jolt as he waits.

And waits.

And waits some-fucking-more.

Anger vs. Anxiety: the Sequel

“Hey, knock knock, Little Hellion. It’s me, you know, the dude that’s your right hand man, the one that lets you eat his pretzels at lunch, touch all his band equipment, entertains your enthusiasm towards the ear splitting garbage that is considered ‘hit music’. Think you owe it to the friendship masters that brought us together, to at least tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Silence.

In a typical Eddie fashion, he begins to obnoxiously teeter the doorbell, each time birthing the same end scene. Humiliated, drenched, and tired, Eddie’s resolve has him pressing his hair-caked forehead to your front door.

Screw this.

You’d told him many times where your spare house key was, so he could avoid having to climb in your window, because really? Though, you adored watching him struggle into an endearing shuffle through your window frame, and Eddie found it fun—he wasn’t about to mud his way around your yard and bust his ass on a whim. Well… unless the key wasn’t here, he can admit to that.

Luckily for him—the first hope of the night—it’s under your mom’s decorative address painted rock. He gains swift access, securing himself in your home. It’s not been but a week, but it feels eternities longer. As he figured, your parents aren’t in their usual living room spots, the television off. The kitchen light above the sink is on, the hall light above your stairs, and he knows you’re bound to be awake. Ever his favorite night owl.

Yanking his shoes off, he carries them in one hand, ascending your stairwell and venturing to your bedroom.

~*~

There’s a soft blue hue merging with your hot pink lava lamp, bleeding underneath your door’s gap. You’re watching some B rated horror film, no reaction, no movement from the other side. And that’s when Eddie starts to panic. Dropping his Reeboks on your mom’s hallway rug outside your door, he doesn’t knock, doesn’t delay, pushing your door open so hard it smacks into your wicker dresser, knocking some trinkets over. He doesn’t know what he expected, maybe you having another guy here—a disgustingly bitter bite brims his esophagus at that notion—or new friends, maybe. He isn’t ready for the gut twisting sight of you, back to him, curled in a fetal position, pink cotton throw around your midriff, tear soaked eyes staring at your baby pink wallpaper, unmoved.

Eddie Munson is speechless.

He takes hesitant footsteps into your sanctuary, easing the door latched behind, as to not startle you. However, you beat him to it.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?” There’s a raw rasp to your tone, a clogged damage.

You remind Eddie of a wounded animal, a lost soldier in his dungeon. He’s never heard you sound so fucking lost. All his hostility dissipates, leaving him with a protective possessiveness. He pulls off his vest and leather coat, laying them over your desk chair, forgoing sitting to your backside and pathing his destination to your front. Your murky vision forces his form out of view, body automatically flinching to move away.

Eddie catches your wrist with a cool hand, thumb tapping the bone, pinching a small portion of your skin in reassurance. “Y/N… baby.”

He doesn’t call you pet names that intimate very often, not unless he’s voicing a concern or a sleepily muttered softness. You’ve always wondered if he called every fangirl that. The burning in your throat threatens to expose you, your limb shaking in Eddie’s vice.

“Please… Eddie, can you just leave? Be mad at me all you want, but I can’t fight with you right now.”

You’re spent, worried he’ll actually go, and not really wanting him to. But that’s how your mind works, isn’t it? Depression’s tricks of the trade; mindfucks, self-doubt, confusion, isolation, emotionless, feeling too much, not enough. His rings are chilled in their brisk brush, sliding along your pulse point, tracing all the way up you arm until they reach your jaw, where he presses a swipe, ever-so-gently. The dam is cracking, about to burst, explode.

“And go where, Y/N? Can’t exactly perform up to my full potential without the Cher to my Sonny, the Eowyn to my Faramir, that nice bit of leather that holds my sweetheart across my chest—“

“Eddie, stop.” You’re head is swimming in static, body moving upright—a position you haven’t assumed in days, with the exception of taking a shower.

Still, you don’t toss his hand off you. He’s beckoned into hope. His middle finger caresses your jawline’s expanse, pushing a bop at your nose, breathing winded, posture patient.

Yeah, that does it.

The levee gapes, flooding itself wide open. Eddie is bringing you into his chest, your fingers fisting into his Hellfire shirt, temple resting against his exposed collar bone, his pick chain tickling your cheek, and you sob. Harder than you’ve remembered doing this week, guilt wracking you at your ignorance towards how your bestfriend might be effected by your distance, that hopeless abyss caverning your chest from the inside out.

“Eddie-Bear,” You breathe out wetly, languidly. The silly nickname you’d taken to calling Eddie since childhood, all because his curly hair, and he never stopped you from saying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You hear him whisper a meek ‘fuck’, before he’s closing his arms around your blanket covered waist, squeezing you in so tightly to him that your air supply thrums against your ribcage. He’s more comforting than your favorite summer thunderstorm. Cigarette smoke lathers him in wafts, rainwater soaked skin, lavishly showered by his spicy cologne. You’re okay. It’s fine.

“What’s happening, baby? Stay with me, yeah?” He’s peppering your forehead with the softest kisses you’ve ever felt, each one conveying his care towards you—fragile, beautiful. It causes you to reign enough strength back in to meet his gaze, under eyes burning and sore, puffy from your tears.

That undertow overwhelms you, cutting off your momentary serenity, making you begin to tug on Eddie’s shirt in desperation, needing it off. You’re whispering and he’s in a state of confusion, arms having no choice but to untuck from you, spreading out. “Y/N…” It’s a questionable warning, a caution against what this action implies.

Something hums, throbs deep inside you—a beast needing satiated—one that Eddie doesn’t know you keep caged. You’ve always wanted your bestfriend (a rather cliche thing to you, but alas), and it seems your avoidance did nothing to improve it, signifying a tenfold magnitude of want and craving, a desperate having to have. Staying away from Eddie is catching up to you, a new anxiety settling in, a warped panic. Eddie’s eyes are closed in contemplation when you face him, mapping out the expanse of his chin, across his jawline, right over that jugular. Your brain is such a jumbled heap, wanting him to be away from you, everyone to leave you by yourself to drown like you think you deserve, to collapsing if Eddie isn’t on you. But Eddie Munson isn’t everyone, and even your fucked up, depression filled brain can admit to that.

He has some otherworldly effect…

“Y/N?” He’s begging a question. And he wants to sob in relief when your beautiful y/e/c irises meet his own.

Your answer isn’t within words, it’s a slip of your hands off his body, pushing up your own baggy white band t-shirt—a comfort shirt you reserve to usually wear. Eddie’s eyes widen when you’re not even clad in a bra, bare breasts a perfect (to him) swell. The softest of actions, yet Eddie is swallowing, confused. He can’t not be so transparent in front of you, he never has. That’s not your dynamic and won’t ever be. “So, you don’t want to see me and now you’re… what, flashing me? Y/N what is this? You’re scarin’ me here.”

“I can’t tell you if I don’t even know, Eddie.” You mumble, knees knocking into his own, his ripped jeans causing a radiating warmth from bared skin through your blanket piled lap.

Eddie is silent, mulling over your words. He isn’t wanting to allow himself to realize that he recognizes your entire mood, as he’s felt it all too much many times before. That hopeless, wayward, black hole of gloom and goddamned doom. It makes too much sense, and Eddie practically tastes that anxiousness coming off you in tower-high waves. But what you’re asking, here, your body exposed to him, another vulnerability he wasn’t prepared for—he finds he can’t deny you.

Whether it’s that cosmic connective bullshit, or his own self-afflicting mindset to be in constant companionship with you, he nods. “Only if you try and talk to me about all this. You gotta promise.” His chocolate brow raises, expectant.

“I’ll… try, as best as I can, okay? Is that good enough?” You’re weak, tears drying, new ones forming.

Eddie nods, starting to reach to brush his hand across you, hold you, not stare at this intimate part of your flesh. He hears a little hushing embarkment, another request. He grants it, finally watching you under an intensity so precious your lower lip wobbles. He tucks his fingers underneath his shirt, pulling and shimmying his upper torso from the damp fabric, letting it drop behind him on your hardwood. It’s a small echo, but something else completely significant.

He’s inhaling sharply, his creamy inked skin this burning layout you seek to travel. He’s Eddie. He’s beautiful. The neon setting of your lava lamp, the reflection of your television still going as a backtrack—it highlights both your forms. Settled and paused on your bed, Eddie looking everywhere but your breasts. This gives you your first smile in over a week. “Eddie. S’ okay to look at me if you want to.”

His reaction will forever be burned into your retinas. It’s a heated swirl, dark eyes creating a crest across your chest, almost as if he’s strumming you the way his fingers pluck at his guitar’s strings. His tongue sucks against teeth, perks, focused. He looks. You can tell he’s fighting every forsaken and forbidden urge that you are… to touch. To feel.

To know��

“Baby…” A whimpering confusion disorients your bestfriend into that pet name. That secretive thing you both have pictured, hands on yourselves at night right after you hang out, scents clinging to one another, names tipping off each other’s lips.

There’s more here…

“I just need to fucking feel you, Eddie. I can’t… I…” That embarrassingly swift panic stampedes your windpipes.

Your palms splay across his tattooed skin, fingertips tracing its unique outline. He finally reaches out when you can barely stand the anticipation any longer, his finger hooking underneath your armpit, thumb-pad brushing the underside of your breast—his first touch. You finally escape your throw, your black panties the only thing that remain. Eddie has to fight every fantasy he’s ever pictured, his own guilty conscience staring him down. You shake your head, reading him.

He’s actually looking at you in the ways you’ve dreamt of. It gives you a bravery to start a revealing, fingers sliding up and down his ribcage. “It’s been so fucked in my head lately. I just want to disappear, so I tried to… as much as possible.” You hope it makes a little sense, because it’s enough to scare the shit out of you, expecting this scrutiny.

Eddie’s throat is on fire with a settled worry, a dawning thought, a knowing sigh. His thumb caresses your breast, an ache unable to stop its responding throb between your legs. He traces your ribcage, pressing, dancing shapes along, rubbing, his voice light when he speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know how my mind works, Y/N. This is the resident freak you’re talking to here. Not exactly a stranger to the dark side of the human mental state.”

“I know, Eddie. I should’ve, but I didn’t want anyone around. Fuck, I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you forced your way into my house—“

“Uh, I rang the bell, Y/N. And technically, I didn’t force my way. I used your spare key.”

“Oh, Eddie,” You sing-sigh, tears docked. “Crazy boy.”

“Y/N…” He’s closer now, bolder to grip your naked waist, your muscles moving beneath his touch. “I’ve been there. You’ve been right fucking beside me. Did you really think I wouldn’t come over here and ask you what’s going on? That’s a coward’s retreat. I can’t let you feel like shit alone, not gonna happen.”

You reach for his belt, an agreeing nod of your head. He starts to move and grab your hands. “It’s not right, not like this.”

Not like this? So… then, when? He really does want it too.

“I know,” You whisper. “Just want to feel your skin on mine.”

You rest your forehead to Eddie’s, letting your fingers trace that demon head tattoo above his pectoral, scraping the barest brushes. He shivers, pulling away, holding in. Finding the curvature of your spine, Eddie taps an invisible beat, making you croon. Your left hand winds around his neck, draping across his lower back, threading through his curls, calming him. “Please, please.” You aren’t sure you can look at him again if he rejects your last advance, your letter to a lifeline.

In a revamped silence, Eddie slides off your bed, wood floors creaking underneath his feet. Your eyes widen, posture frozen.

Is he leaving?

But he gives you that smitten Eddie Munson smile and he sheds his socks, unbuckling his belt and jeans, shoving them down to his ankles and kicking them away, his decorative buckle clattering across the flooring. He lowers his brows at you, shy, pursing his lips as he knees his way into a crawl across your bed, meeting you—blue checkered boxers all that separate him from you. His chain sways in his movement, his hand cupping your cheek and bringing you up and into him, mouth hovering, lips ghosting, so close you’re drunk on the caress. It’s so fucking intimate, so open and vulnerable. It’s as if you’ve torn open your chest and handed your bestfriend your modesty and your heart.

They’re already his…

Eddie breathes you in, your shampoo— strawberries and cream this time, your skin silky beneath his touch. He’s got you and you’re still here with him, trying.

“Promise me you’ll try and tell me someway, somehow, even if you can’t say it—that something is wrong, Y/N. From here on out, you gotta promise me.” Fuck, he really wants to kiss every bit of that panic from you, lay you down, take you in your bed, and hold you until the moon vanishes underneath the horizon, and the sun sprays its peachy hues all around your bedroom walls. He is startled to revel in the fact that you want it just as much.

“I wish we could…” You trail off, mouth puffing a breath. So close.

Eddie’s honey coated voice is rasped. “We can. All you’ve ever had to do was ask me to go to bed with you, and I’d give you whatever you fucking wanted, Y/N,” He breaks, nose nudging yours, slowly edging back enough to comb your hair behind your ear. “But right now, I won’t.”

It’s so strange, how Eddie was worried about you, angry with you, thinking you hated him, and now he knows you want him inside you just as much as he wants to be there. And you, your brain is a scrambled mess, still swimming in the darkness, yet revealing your secrets to your bestfriend, and hearing his shared truths. It’s all… too much. You don’t have to say anything else—he already knows. His tone is light, airy, as he sings along to the lyrics of your favorite drunken karaoke song. “They say we’re young and we don’t know… We won’t find out until we grow…”

He bumps your shoulder, making your eyes glisten, heart lurch, your own voice joining in. “Well I don’t know if all that’s true… Cause you got me, and baby, I got you…”

You both share a nostalgic smile, a melancholy settling into your chest, joining in together.

“Babe… I got you babe, I got you babe…”

“There’s my girl,” Eddie squeezes your shoulder, his other hand on the back of your neck. “Can’t do this shit without you.”

“My favorite dungeon master.” You quip.

Eddie feigns a dramatic look. “Better be the only one.”

“You are. Always.” There’s a new sensitivity forming—banter aside—a place you and Eddie have just discovered.

He senses those gears shifting inside you, that mood threatening to flood you. Eddie lays a kiss to your cheek, lingering, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him, breasts smashing into his chest. You both let out a ravished whimper, body heat shared, radiating. Your nipples harden, soaking in the affectionate stick of Eddie. He’s starting to move backwards, taking you with him on your bed.

You let him guide you, unable to let go if hurricane winds threatened you both. He brings a hand underneath your ass in a slide, sheets rustling, gripping where your thigh meets a cheek, lifting, sloping your limb over his lower waist. Your panties, drenched through—a response beyond your control—skim over his happy trail, where all those freckles are resting, waiting for your mouth to trace. He shushes your apology, tilting his body to lay an arm underneath your head, his pick necklace dangling across your bosom, and he lets you rest on his forearm, his other outstretching to wrap around your waist, that thick arm hair stimulating your broke out goosebumps. He rests his chin overtop your head, content, swollen between his legs, but managing to control it to a minimum.

You fall asleep in his arms— quiet, warm, safe, sleeping through the night for the first time in a month.

~*~

It hadn’t been but a few days since you and Eddie were together, and the next morning when he snuck out, he was terrified you’d bolt on him again. He treaded lightly when he showed up at school, trying to focus on getting his final set list together, and interviews for new members of Hellfire Club, pushing distractions. The day crept on and on, but he hadn’t seen you thus far, and the day’s end meeting was approaching.

~*~

He can hardly stomach being still on his throne, knee bouncing. Everyone’s voices sound staged, louder than usual. Eddie is barely aware until Gareth shakes his shoulder—hard. He nearly snaps, a stressed groan leaving his mouth, flat. “What?”

“Dude,” Gareth exclaims, waving the folded piece of notebook paper in his face. “I said, Y/N left a note for you earlier. Said she was doing something for her mom, to call her later.”

Eddie snatches it from his friend, ignoring whatever else he says, nearly tearing the paper to get to its contents. He can’t help but to grin like a fool, teeth bared, almost a proud pose, your scribbled handwriting clear.

Let’s Be Closer

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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jedineedlove · 2 months

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Demon Bull King Vs Sun Wukong

I found some things interesting about this fight, please enjoy.

1: The two images were also ones that I felt might be instances but they could be more dramatic then evidence. It was when he rode down his staff and was bashing debris. The wire part was the stone was coming from down below but he still looked up. But again could be more for dramadics or just a weird angle thing the editors were doing.

A: Another image was when he was about to tear the mountain but I could chuck it to turning his gaze to the mountain behind him instead of up.

B: This was weird as well this is when he summons the clone army once again DBK is directly below him why look up, but gain it could be more observing the clone being formed.

C: This was the punch scene this is why it was hard to tell if this was an editor's issue or internal they were some glare in his eyes but I still see his full circle eye turned upwards and the glare at the bottom right of the eye. So why is he looking up and not at DBK why is he watching the punch and not where it's landing?

D: This was a maybe but it was during a terrain fight where the dramatic camera angles were a bit weird to read where any of the two were it's during the staff and axe clashing scene. DBK could have been beside him but the dramatic camera angles made it hard to tell.

This fight made me question a lot of what is going on in this show but where you go from here is up to you.

Thank you for reading :)

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Someone in the comments made a good point about this being told through a story point of view but in "Great Wall Race" when PIf brings up DBK's "bad experiences with mountains" he gets a flashback where it is cookie cut from the intro just with a blurred surrounded screen.

#lmk #sun wukong #lego monkie kid #fan thoughts #monkey king #lmk princess iron fan #lmk sun wukong #lmk swk #lmk red son #lmk demon bull king #lmk demon bull family #lmk dbk

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nhuquyen · 3 months

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This scene suffered from the pace being rushed which makes it hard to understand what Kabru is going on about if you didn't piece together the story through his POV. This is unfortunate cuz this moment is so realistically messy yet is the satisfying moment when the leading and supporting characters finally come into an understanding.

Kabru's antagonism makes perfect sense only if the readers remove themselves from their favoritism to Laios.

I see some confusion over why he thinks Laios is an enemy of humanity. Firstly, Laios thinks the things that killed all of his family and community are cool. This alone to me is at least sympathetic enough to see why he harbors subconscious prejudice against Laios. It doesn't make him right, but it's logical enough.

Secondly, yeah he's in over his head with his own judgment and thinks too highly of his own motive*. Thirdly, he's bit of a dick to Laios I won't even lie here (I do blame stress for the punch) . But like everyone except Falin is a fucking dick to Laios when you think about it.

And to be completely fair, ever since he knew of Laios' interest till even here still Kabru's been flip-flopping between "This man might save us all" and "He would choose monsters over humanity, we are doomed if he got the power which he is very close to getting rn, let kill him". It's not like he went 100% antagonistic.

This is getting long so,,,My breakdown of Kabru's pov, which explains his actions regarding Laios, under the readmore.

Let see thru Kabru's pov in chronological order:

Taking it from the start, Kabru has a bit of a savior complex no doubt stems from his survival guilt. Being the sole survivor of a massacre by monsters it's understandable he feel that it's his duty to find out why it happened and prevent it from happening again. We saw him and his crew talking shit about how good he is at reading people, and he totally gonna topple the greedy governor and save this place. Then they continuously got their asses handed to them by monsters cuz while Kabru read people well, he can't handle monsters. So yeah he admitted deep down he's not making it to the deep.

So now Kabru wants to find someone he can trust to save the island. He got his eyes on Laios bc he can't read him. Laios is a damn good dungeon explorer and isn't motivated by greed while almost everyone is, so what gives?

Here we see Kabru reveals he had failed to get Laios attention while trying to get to know his mysterious party. This is my interpretation only but he was definitely pissed about it too. Kabru is a bit over his head about his own charm so Laios ignoring him probably stunk.

Even after knowing Laios' special interest he was like "huh so that's how he is" until the matter of dungeon master's power come up and it occurred to him "wait would this guy who loves monsters use the power to make the dungeon full of powerful monsters that will destroy people?" He definitely did not decide Laios was humanity emeny right there, it's a possibility. As much as Laios pulling through and save the island from becoming another Utaya tragedy is a possibility.

Here, we see him desperately clinging to the former possibility until the latter took over "It's too late to get through to him i have to kill him." But did it take over? In that panic, his true feeling comes out. He still wants to understand Laios as a person, he still wants to believe in Laios after all.

Wgile it's easy to get pissed at Kabru just as we did the the Shuro/Toshiro vs Laios fight scene. Fellow autistics know how much it fucking hurt to get your social ineptitude get dragged out like that. I do think Kabru's rant here is good for Laios. This is the first time somebody has admitted to want to get to know why he like monsters despite them hating the creatures. It's not the solidarity like what he and his sister has, but it's not total rejection. Again, his own party members who care about him want nothing to do with his interest (minus Senshi)

Tldr: Kabru's alright and his actions make complete sense even if it's flawed

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru

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dynamightmite · 2 years

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Just to be clear, the whole "Deku and Bakugo holding hands by the end of the manga" thing isn't like. Something weird or made up, or even indicative of shipping. It's literally just the culmination of their interactions considering the way Horikoshi centralized "reaching to/for" as being foundational to Bakugo and Midoriya's relationship. Almost all of their big moments can be described as the act of one reaching for the other, both physically and emotionally—and both matter.

The whole reacher/reachee dynamic starts (chronologically for them) at about four, and this one interaction defines the entirety of their relationship going forward.

Notice how Midoriya reaches, and Bakugo shoves him off. He clearly recognizes the gesture, but he absolutely refuses to respond in kind. This is the break in their relationship, the symbolic moment where Bakugo pulls away and Midoriya is left trailing behind after him.

It isn't until years later that Midoriya reaches out to Bakugo again, under similar, but much more dangerous circumstances. One thing hasn't changed; Midoriya is the one originally doing the reaching. What does change is that Bakugo, unlike when they were kids, reaches back:

I think a lot of people pass over Bakugo's response here as unimportant because you have to translate it through seven asshole filters to realize he's roundaboutly trying to thank Midoriya for saving his life, but it's relevant in that it sets the tone going forward. This moment shows that Bakugo is willing to reach back—not necessarily kindly, and certainly not physically, not yet—if Midoriya reaches first. It's the first sign that Bakugo does actually want a reciprocal relationship, even if he can't verbalize or actualize it yet.

We see this extended after Deku vs. Kacchan 1. Midoriya reaches out to Bakugo, chasing him down to do so. While he doesn't reach out physically so much, he emotionally reaches out by (vaguely) offering Bakugo information about OfA.

While Bakugo isn't nice about it, once Midoriya has shown his vulnerability, Bakugo responds in kind, emotionally reaching back to Midoriya. He doesn't leave Midoriya hanging, instead going the extra mile and, unprompted, exposing his own vulnerabilties. This is more movement towards a reciprocal relationship—if Midoriya opens up, Bakugo will follow suit, even if he still won't go first.

It takes their final exam for Bakugo to physically reach back. After Midoriya "reaches" (read: punches, but look at the posing, and how his arm is outstretched) Bakugo does the same. They manage it because it's hidden under the guise of training and teamwork, more violent than anything.

This sequence isn't just physical, though; Midoriya reaches out to Bakugo and reaches through his defenses emotionally in a way that actually affects him. Here, for the first time, Bakugo feels like he's being acknowledged. Seen. Midoriya's right, Bakugo doesn't just give up and neither does Midoriya, and if they understand that about each other, maybe they can manage to understand more. To be more than just estranged ex-childhood friends and rivals. So Bakugo reaches for Midoriya and shows him that he can and will reciprocate, so long as they're doing it on his terms.

It's after this, after Bakugo has realized he maybe can reach back when Midoriya holds out his hand and it won't be terrible, that they're thwarted by the plot. For the first time, Midoriya is prevented from reaching out, physically, and instead does so verbally, and Bakugo, who is also unable to physically reach out, verbally reaches back. Call and response. A pantomime of what they want, and intentionally unsatisfying.

This is contrasted boldly and meaningfully against Kirishima physically being able to reach for Bakugo, who takes his hand without thought.

You'll notice this is mostly a physical act, not an emotional one. Sure, they're both happy to see each other and both their emotions are running high, but this moment isn't meant to be vulnerable and charged the same way Bakugo and Midoriya's reaching out is, because Kirishima and Bakugo have an uncomplicated relationship, while Midoriya and Bakugo do not. This moment is supposed to show Bakugo's individual, personal growth (in that he can even have a reciprocal, uncomplicated relationship built on respect and kindness with another person), but Kirishima's reaching out to him is largely utilitarian and being used within a larger contextual frame. It cannot exist alone because of how motifs function within works as a whole. This moment exists to bring attention to the act of reaching out mutually, and why it matters so much that Bakugo and Midoriya have yet to achieve it.

Having established that they both are actively thinking about this aspect of their relationship, it's only after Bakugo and Midoriya's near miss that things change again. Not entirely—while Bakugo instigates Deku vs. Kacchan 2, he doesn't really reach first. He's still too defensive, still too distrusting of Midoriya's intentions. He instead goes in on the offense, exposing Midoriya by bringing up OfA and forcing Midoriya's hand.

It's only when Midoriya reaches out, both physically and emotionally, that Bakugo breaks and reaches back.

Look at the posing and the positioning of the characters within these panels. Bakugo isn't drawn like this for shits and giggles, he's intentionally shown to be holding his hand out to Midoriya. Their whole fight has been characterized by Bakugo asking Midoriya for things (information about his quirk, the fight itself, why did All Might choose him as successor), and this is one more time. He is asking Midoriya to keep reaching out—to let Bakugo reach back, despite his ongoing rejections. To be there with and for Bakugo as he works through his own issues and to not let go. To let him be weak until he can work up the strength to fully reach back, and even reach first.

Which he wants to do. Desperately.

And when he does...

Bakugo reaches out first in his apology. Emotionally, not physically. Possibly because Bakugo actually tends to be pretty prickly about physical touch, and seems to treat that as more intimate than many of his peers, but I think his choice to reach out emotionally more has to do with Bakugo making the decision to do the difficult thing, to give Midoriya what he deserves. Because reaching out physically is just moving your hand—baring your soul? That shit hurts. That's hard. But it's what Midoriya needs, and it's what Bakugo wants to give.

And now it's Midoriya's turn to reach back. Not emotionally, but physically, stumbling his way to Bakugo. There is no emotional reciprocation on Midoriya's part this time—Bakugo will need to reach out again, later.

It isn't until the very end that Bakugo reaches—physically—first. And for the first time, Midoriya's not there.

The whole point of their relationship, the moment this all suggests they are heading to, is the two of them reaching for each other and being able to connect. Physically and emotionally. That is the entire purpose of this constant back and forth, one reaching out in the hopes that the other will reach back. So far they haven't completely managed, but for the arc of their relationship to be complete, that has to happen.

I understand why this often gets put under a romantic lens, and while it can be, I guess, the motif itself and the arc of their relationship exists regardless of any reader's personal preferances. That's what writing conventions are for, so we can recognize and predict the outcome of the story as intended by the author. The act of reaching out isn't exclusive to Bakugo and Midoriya within the story by any means, but their relationship being defined by the act and symbolized by it, continuously depicted with it as the main focus, is certainly not an accident. It is the culmination, and the ultimate end goal of their relationship, which—again, if writing conventions are followed—should be met. Like I understand that people get told "there's no correct answers in media analysis" but baby, sometimes there are answers with enough supporting evidence that suggesting they're wrong is... I don't even know.

#bnha spoilers #bnha #bakugo #deku #bnha meta #midoriya #bkdk #again not really in the ship way but wtf else am I supposed to tag it with

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elvisabutler · 2 years

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good girls clean up their messes

summary: austin didn't used to have a housewife kink and neither did you. funny how life-uh- finds a way to change that. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x female reader word count: 2100 warnings: housewife kink. unprotected p in v ( though can be read as committed relationship birth control situation ). cleaning kink? minor breeding kink. praise kink. brief mention of the pandemic and how austin was a recluse for a bit. author's note: welcome to day 25 of kinktober, housewife kink with austin butler. this was fun. truly i'd actually have written more but i had this view of cleaning in my head vs anything else. so honestly, anyone asks and i'll write a whole big long thing about it but for now, enjoy this little tiny thing. also thank you @pennyroyalcreep for being the one to ask for this. i had hoped someone would choose austin for this kink vs anyone else so i was pleased as punch about it when you did.

You were never made to be a housewife, you've told Austin this on more than one occasion. Even when you first met him and were first talking to him, you told him that despite how perhaps you looked it, all warm and inviting, it wasn't your sort of style. Life had a funny way of changing those things sometimes. It started out slow, after all you were the one with a faintly normal nine to five-ish job, he was the one who had to jet across the world half the time. It made sense that you would keep where you were living and he at least- stopped by clean. You weren't a heathen, you knew how to make your house look presentable. The first time Austin had come back from being away for a while was the Elvis press tour and he had been expecting to see the house in some sort of disarray, maybe you hadn't been keeping up with the laundry or maybe their were dishes piled up in the sink. Instead, what greeted him was his girlfriend- the woman he fell in love with when the world went to shit, he became a goddamn recluse for six months, and everyone had let things fall by the wayside- in her pjs doing the dishes with these stupid little green gloves that in your own words- "kept me from getting dirty while cleaning".

All Austin could think about when he saw you that way is making you as dirty as he could. His teeth bit at his lower lip, picturing you taking off those gloves, making a show of it as he just sank to his knees and showed you just how much he appreciated your effort to keep the place clean. In fact, that had been what he decided to do the moment he wrapped his arms around your waist and you had let out a small gasp at his clothed erection.

It got worse after that, with him finding every excuse to just watch you clean and you finding that you didn't mind. You wanted to show Austin how you could keep things going, wanted his praise telling you how good you were, how he had the best girlfriend that he'll marry when he gets just a minute to himself. How you made everything so clean only for him to dirty it up with you. How you clean up the kitchen when the two of you cook knowing fully well he wants to have his dessert on the table, spread out on the tablecloth, chasing your pleasure higher and higher until he has to suck on your clit just so in a way that has you almost breaking the table when you come back down to Earth with a thump.

Bikeriders is- complicated when it comes to him coming home and you hate it, it's led to you having to show him FaceTime videos of the clean bedroom and the dishes and him forcing them to let him take a break because he just wants to eat dinner with his girlfriend. It's led to praise being over text and over the phone with him stroking his cock and you curling your own fingers inside yourself or using that one vibrator Austin hates. You miss him and he misses you just as much if his moans are anything to go by, if his grunts and whispers of your name are anything to go by.

It's a Saturday and you find that there's more than a bit more dust in the house than you'd like, that and you've let the glass door leading out to the backyard remain a little too dirty for your liking. Austin had mentioned the possibility of being able to fly in for the weekend, something about an award or a round table discussion but he hadn't told you when he'd be coming in. You take a chance on him coming in early, choosing to be a little silly and wear a French maid costume you had bought for yourself last Halloween and turn on your cleaning playlist, allowing the mix of electroswing, rock and jazz fly through the air as you got started on your efforts. The door is easy enough, done in about thirty minutes and left to settle before you would go back and see if you missed any spots. Now came the hard part, the dusting that usually would have you sniffling by the end of it but you hoped it would be different this time.

Your wish is granted, just not in the way you planned for it as Austin opens the door to the house and walks in only to find you bent over, no underwear under the costume you're wearing and he has to bite his lip to swallow the groan that threatens to escape him at the image and the knowledge. He knows perfectly well how engrossed you get in your music when you're cleaning, having once snuck up on you and swayed to the beat of the music for what felt like ten minutes- it was only five- before you realized his presence and had abandoned your task. You're near the window you had just cleaned, dusting the bottom part of an end table nearby and Austin drops his bags quietly, allowing himself to sneak up on you until you feel his hands grip your hips. The gasp that leaves you is closer to the breath leaving your body, especially as Austin uses his grip to pull you into a standing position, feeling just how hard you've already made him.

"Hey baby." He murmurs into your ear, kissing the side of your neck and nipping at your earlobe. "No panties and you're dusting in this. You love painting such a pretty picture for me, don't you?"

The voice you have, the one that normally snarks at him leaves your head right in that exact moment knowing fully well you need to use it. Your answer is predictable because of it. "I have to make sure my hardworking man comes home to a nice clean house." You swallow and shake your head a little, ignoring how Austin's hands are sliding up your torso, making their way to your chest. "I've seen how messy his hotel rooms can get."

His laugh vibrates against your back and the noise slips into one ear only to settle in your brain, you missed hearing that laugh in person. "Low blow. Valid, but is that any way to treat me after all this time?"

A giggle leaves your mouth unprompted as you try and focus on dusting once more. "Yeah, maybe just a little."

He hums as an answer to your sass, cupping your breasts as he grinds against you slowly. "Want to fuck you, baby. Want to make a mess of you while you clean."

Your breath quickens just slightly as you grind back against him, allowing you to feel the roughness of the fabric of his pants against your bare ass before you pull away, smoothing down your skirt. "I've still got to dust around the door, Austin."

The noise that comes out of him when you moves sounds like a growl as he pulls you against him again. When he speaks it comes out almost as a whine. "I can just flip up that skirt while you're dusting, baby. Promise I won't make you smudge the nice clean window with your body. Just want to fuck you against the door."

You know your neighbors can likely see what Austin's doing, see how he's slowly pinning you against the door, the front of your body pressed against the cool glass, giving you some relief from how hot just having Austin pressed against you is making you feel. Your answer comes out in a pant.

"Fine. Just, you're doing the top of the door, you tree."

Austin would have laughed at you calling him a tree if he wasn't so distracted with undoing his pants and pulling down his boxers as he flipped up the skirt, exposing your now wet core to the air of the room. Unbidden, a small keen escapes your mouth as he pushes into you without warning. It's not unwelcome, but you hadn't expected him to go all in immediately. Your ass grinds backwards against him as you brace yourself against the door.

"Fuck. So fucking wet for me. You're- Perfect. That's- Got the best girlfriend, cleaning my house, cleaning the dishes, wearing outfits like this. Didn't even have this kink before but god." His words are punctuated by his thrusts, each one causing you to thump against the glass. "My pretty little housewife, doesn't even need to cook but she does. Doesn't need to do all of this but you do this just for me. You going to keep doing it? When I marry you do I get to keep this little housewife?"

"Not a housewife, Aus." You huff out a laugh, focusing on the noises of his cock entering and exiting you, it sounds like there's so much fluid that you swear you'd be surprised if there's not a puddle below your feet when you're done. "Still got my job."

"Doesn't make you any less of one." He growls against the shell of your ear, his hands dipping in between the fabric of the outfit and your skin to squeeze your breast and then your nipple. "You're gonna be my housewife, aren't you? Even when we get married you'll keep the house clean. Even when I give you a baby, you'll do it, won't you."

Your cunt clenches around him at the last part, causing embarrassment to flood your system as he chuckles. "Full of my kid, cleaning my house, making food, being such a good girl. My gorgeous housewife, my fantastic housewife that I don't deserve."

If your head starts to roll back against his shoulder, neither one of you comment on it, instead Austin uses it as a chance to kiss your neck, nipping at it occasionally as he keeps thrusting into you, stealing your breath when he hits just the right angle. One of your hands drifts toward your clit, trying to see if you can come before Austin swats it out of the way.

"No, let me take care of that. Don't want to get that pretty pussy all dirty with dust. Let me reward you, baby." He whispers as he moves to rub it, allowing you to gasp at the sensation. You can see smudges forming from your hands, from your breasts, from your skin against the glass and you find you don't mind just this once. Instead you allow yourself to grind against, his fingers, his ass, just allow yourself to move in whatever way you can to chase your high. Austin's hips are starting to stutter, his thrusts become a little erratic as he feels himself about to come before he pinches your clit in a way that should be painful but has you hitting your head against the glass door lightly, your cunt clenching around his cock, milking it as he comes with a groan against your neck. You stay like that for a few minutes, both of your legs too shaky to move before he pulls out of you, earning a mild sob of distress from your throat.

He turns you around to let himself kiss you, his thigh moving to between your legs just in case you want to rock against it. You do just slightly before you speak. "You made me smudge the glass."

Austin's laugh and smile fill the whole room with sunlight you didn't realize just how much you were missing until that exact moment. He shrugs. "I did, didn't I? Guess I'll just have to watch you clean it again. Oh no, what a tragedy."

You smack him lightly with the duster and point to the top of the door. "Laugh it up, Aus. Do that and I'll think about it."

He moves his thigh, allowing his knee to press against your clit. "My perfect little housewife isn't going to stand for that dirt. I'm getting to watch it."

It's then that you finally move his thigh back, allowing you to walk away from him, hips swaying just so as you walk to pick up the glass cleaner from the floor, exposing your cunt leaking his cum to him. "Maybe. Depends on how nice your housewife is feeling. Get to cleaning, Aus. The clock is ticking."

You both forget about cleaning about fifteen minutes in. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

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