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eoieopda · 8 months

Text

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

1K notes · View notes

worldlxvlys · 2 months

Note

UHMM I HAVE A GOOD IDEAAA! UHHHHHHH HOLD UP , UHHMM OH CAN YOU MAKE AN LITTLE STORY WHERE CHARLIE WALK IN ON CHRIS AND Y/N ARE DOING THE DEVILS TANGO . 😈😈💗💗🙏🙏

my eyes only (part 5)

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, choking, degradation, they get caught, cursing, cheating

** i’m not promoting cheating in the slightest, this is fiction. please do not cheat on anyone.

“holy fuck, chris!” i screamed out as his hips slammed into mine, creating a smacking sound.

we both sat on our knees on the bed, as he pounded into me from behind.

he held me against his body, one hand held my own behind my back, while his other rested against my stomach.

“still think i’m annoying?” he rasped into my ear, me eyes rolling into the back of my head at his ruthless pace.

“i’ll do this all fucking day until you answer me if i have to”

his thrusts were so deep, i was seeing stars. he somehow managed to knock the wind out of me with every movement of his hips.

“you don’t wanna answer me?” he asked, snaking the hand that was on my stomach up to my throat. he squeezed lightly, and i swear i almost came right then and there.

i let out an embarrassingly loud moan, prompting chris to choke me again.

“oh, you like that ? what a slut, getting fucked on your best friend’s cock” i bit my lip, trying to hold back the lewd sounds that desperately needed to be let out.

he bit my ear lightly, making a string of moans leave my lips.

“none of that, ma. wanna hear every single sound come out of that pretty mouth”

he used the grip he had on my neck to turn my face towards him, placing his lips against mine in a rough kiss.

our tongues danced against each others, drool dribbling down the side of our mouths.

when he pulled away, our lips were still connected by a string of saliva.

he suddenly pushed my front half down, pushing my face into the mattress by the back of my neck.

i moaned out at the harshness of his actions, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me.

my mouth hung open as he smacked my ass, groaning at the way it jiggled under his touch.

“god, i could watch this all day” he said as he continued to squeeze and slap it.

the irritated skin began to sting from the treatment, but the pain only added to the pleasure.

enjoying his fixation on it, i began to shake my ass back on him.

“fuck yes, ma. keep going, don’t fucking stop” he spoke as his hips stilled.

he watched me as i wiggled my ass against him, rolling my hips back and fucking myself on his cock.

“holy shit, you’re unreal” he mumbled under his breath as i continued my movements.

i pushed myself onto my hands and looked back at him.

“you like that, baby? my ass was made for you” i spoke in a sultry voice.

his eyes rolled back as his hands wrapped around my waist.

“for you to touch” i reached for his hand, moving it to my lips to place a kiss to it.

“to feel” kiss. “to look at” kiss. “to worship” kiss. “to ruin” another kiss.

“to cheat with” i heard a voice from behind us.

i let out a scream, my heart beating out of my chest as i went to cover the both of us in a blanket.

when i turned my face towards the door, i was met with an angry charlie.

“yo, what the fuck dude? how long were you standing there?” chris asked.

“seriously? that’s your concern?” charlie asked, narrowing his eyes at chris.

“yes, actually. you were probably enjoying the show” chris spoke.

“chris!” i said as i slapped his chest lightly, shooting him a glare.

“but seriously, how long were you standing there?” i asked, finding it weird how he chimed in at just the right time.

charlie’s face scrunched up before he spoke, “just…get dressed. we’ll talk when you’re decent” he spoke before shutting the door behind him.

honestly, charlie is an odd guy. he freaks out about small stuff, but when it comes to big issues? he’s weirdly chill about it.

don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely mad. he’s just oddly calm about the whole situation.

“he’s…not as mad as i thought he’d be” chris said as he started to get dressed.

“honestly, he probably saw it coming. i’ve been distant lately and he keeps on bringing up the nudes” i said as i pulled my clothes on.

his eyes widened at that, “he knows about those?”

“yeah. plus, he’s convinced that you’re in love with me” chris halted his actions at those words.

“what?” i asked, noticing him freezing up.

he swallowed harshly before shaking his head, resuming his actions. “nothing, that’s just kinda insane”

for some reason, his words hurt me. i tried not show it on my face as i finished pulling on my clothes.

we continued to fix ourselves up in silence, giving each other awkward glances when the other wasn’t looking.

“you ok?” he asked as i made my way to the door.

“just, stay here. i’m gonna go talk to him” i told him before leaving my room, closing the door behind me.

when i walked out to my living room, charlie was sitting on the couch with his hands folded in his lap.

i gave him a sheepish smile before beginning to talk, cutting right to the chase.

“look, i’m sorry” i started.

“no, you’re not” he breathed out. “i know you’re not, because if you were you wouldn’t have cheated on me”

i let out a sigh at his words.

“but it’s ok, i cheated on you too” my eyes widened at that.

out of everything he could say, those were not the words i was expecting.

“and that doesn’t make what either of us did ok, by any means. i shouldn’t have done that to you. but you were barely talking to me or hanging out with me, and i knew you were gonna leave me for him eventually” he said.

“and i know i have been horrible to you, and i shouldn’t have taken my stress out on you like that. i know you felt trapped in our relationship, and for that i truly am sorry. i shouldn’t have made you feel like you couldn’t break up with me”

this is the charlie that i got into a relationship with.

i don’t know what happened between now and then that made him change so drastically, but it was almost a relief to know that i wasn’t just being naive in thinking that he could still be the person i once knew.

“it wasn’t all you, charlie. i shouldn’t have gotten into a relationship with you knowing that i had feelings for chris. that wasn’t fair to you, and i am sorry for that”

“and yes our relationship was fucked up, but that didn’t give me the right to cheat on you. it’s just-”

“you’re in love with him” charlie cut me off. “and i’m not gonna stand in the way of that anymore. you deserve to be happy”

“so do you” i nodded at him.

“damn, look at us. having a real conversation like adults” charlie chuckled.

“never thought i’d see the day” i said.

“ok, well i’m gonna go” he said as he patted me on the shoulder awkwardly.

“bye charlie” i laughed, as he left.

“that was so fucking awkward” i said to myself as i made my way back to my room.

when i pushed my door open, however, chris was gone.

the only evidence of him having been here was my open window, which let in a cold breeze.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

main masterlist

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tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @heraakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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myuroll · 2 months

Text

balding buddies — gojo x fem!reader summary: satoru messes up megumi’s hair and tries (and fails) to hide it from you! fluff, crack, teenage/highschool!gojo, you guys are dating, reader is referred to as mom/seen as a mother figure

stop ik ive literally only written for gojo BUT I'M MAKING A LDS ZAYNE ONE AND CHOSO !! idk which comes first but theyre on the way trust !! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

wc: 1.5k

"oh. fuck."

"what did you do?" the little boy asked, his voice tinged with concern, as he reached his hand to the back of his head. before he could touch it, satoru smacked his hand back down.

"nothing! it's okay! it's totally okay…" satoru said, giving an unconvincing smile to the boy through the mirror as he placed the shaver on the bathroom counter.

"then why did you curse?" megumi asked, turning around to look at satoru and making another attempt to reach the back of his head.

"that's a very good question, megumi! but you know, sometimes you just keep those questions in that big head of yours!" satoru replied, reaching to grab megumi's wrists and holding them together.

megumi tilted his head slightly to get a glimpse of the back of his head through the mirror. when he saw the bald spot, his jaw dropped in disbelief. as if he had stumbled upon a tiny desert in the middle of a lush green forest.

"what the hell did you do!? i'm in 1st grade! people are gonna think i'm balding like you!!" megumi rambled on, while satoru scratched the back of his head and let go of the six-year-old's hands.

"hey! i am not balding!" satoru protested, emphasizing his words as he reached to feel his head. "and it's not that big of a deal. you can just say all your hair is still growing in!" he continued.

with his hands on the back of his head, feeling the bare skin, megumi stared up at satoru with a shocked expression, lost for words. his face twisted in a mix of confusion and shock.

"see! it's such a good idea that i've left you speechless!" satoru beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear, and playfully bopped megumi's nose, causing the boy to scrunch up his face in response. "now, how do we hide this from mom?" satoru pondered aloud, turning to look outside the bathroom, searching for something to hide this.

"we? nuh uh! i'm telling on you," megumi declared, shaking his head from side to side.

satoru immediately spun around, his jaw dropping to the floor.

"what? what do you mean!? i’ve been so kind and gracious! i have helped you out too, don’t i should get the same treatment in return! just this once! help me outtt!!! '' satoru exclaimed, speaking quickly and spewing out any excuse that came to mind.

rolling his eyes at satoru's desperate babbling, megumi pushed past him and made his way out of the bathroom and into the attached bedroom. satoru followed closely behind, rambling on and on about how he should help him fix the situation.

just as they reached the bedroom, they heard the front door open, causing satoru to freeze in panic.

"satoru! megumi! i'm home!" your sweet voice echoed through the entryway, its melodic tones filling the air with warmth and affection.

megumi felt a small smile form on his lips as he turned around, wearing a smug expression in anticipation of satoru's impending demise.

"hey, hey, hey!" satoru blurted out, panickingly squatting down to megumi's level and gripping his shoulders with desperation. "i'll get you anything! anything you want, just name it and it's yours! please, help me!"

"anything?" megumi replied, his voice tinged with delight.

"anything!" satoru instantly agreed as he shook his head up and down rapidly.

"i'll think about what i want, but i'll help you or whatever. deal?" megumi responded, unable to hide his joy.

"deal!" satoru happily exclaimed. "now, because she's already here, do not leave my side. i'll hide your bald spot!" satoru explained, his tone serious.

as they both walked into the living room to greet you, satoru hovered weirdly over megumi, desperately trying to shield the crime. you were hanging up your coat on a nearby rack when you turned around and beamed at the sight of the boys.

squatting down to greet megumi, you wrapped an arm around his torso and the other on the back of his head.

the back of his head.

…

the back of his head usually had black flowing locks, but now… now it was as if a barren wasteland stood in the far left side of his head. you continued to feel the area, feeling the small prickles of tiny hairs. clearly a bad job of shaving.

you pulled back, looking at megumi with a perplexed expression, while he straed right back at you with a scowl as he side-eyed satoru. then your gaze shifted to satoru, who immediately stared up at the ceiling, pretending not to feel your stare fixated on him.

"megumi… can you turn around?" you asked, your voice laced with worry. you could sense satoru's body tensing up and notice his fingers fidgeting nervously.

megumi turned his body so that his back faced you, and as your eyes laid upon the tennis ball-sized bald spot, a gasp escaped your lips. instantly standing up, you shot a disapproving look at satoru.

"what happened!? i told you we should've just gone to a barber!" you exclaimed, the frustration evident in your voice.

"that was an option? and you let this freak do it instead?" megumi retorted, scowling at satoru.

"what did i say about calling people names?" you interjected sternly, your gaze shifting from satoru to megumi.

"sorry…" megumi mumbled quietly, still wearing a scowl on his face.

"hey! it's not even that bad! i did a good job at the front, no one looks at the back anyway," satoru defended himself, attempting to salvage the situation.

"not if you have a bald spot!" megumi shot back, his glare fixed on the white-haired man.

sighing, you ignored satoru's feeble attempts to justify his actions and extended your hand to megumi. leading him back to the bathroom, satoru followed closely behind, his head low and a pout on his face, fully aware of your disappointment.

to satoru, the silent treatment was far worse than getting yelled at. at least with yelling, he would receive some sort of attention! but the dreaded…silence treatment!? how would he ever survive such a thing?

upon reaching the bathroom, you retrieved the shaver from the counter, contemplating your next move. satoru timidly placed his head on your shoulder, hoping to break through the wall of silence, but you barely acknowledge his presence.

"baby, i think you have to go bald," satoru suggested cheekily, hoping to elicit a response.

you looked at him unimpressed. "satoru! imagine if that happened to you!?" you retorted, crossing your arms and looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"i mean, i would rock it! my handsome face is all that matters, outshines all the other outstanding features," satoru boasted.

both you and megumi rolled your eyes in unison at satoru's egocentric comments. it was like he was trying to piss you off.

"you're going bald," you stated matter-of-factly, your tone devoid of any emotion as you brought the shaver closer to satoru.

megumi couldn't help but let out a small giggle, while satoru's face drained of color upon hearing your words.

"i-i didn't make him go bald! it was just an oopsie! i swear! this was hypothetical too! tell her megumi!" satoru rambled nervously, taking a few steps back with a forced smile and looked to megumi for help.

"i'll make it a reality," you replied, as you pulled him back into the bathroom and switched on the buzzer, the loud buzz filling the room.

“hmmm? does anyone hear something?” megumi said, cheekily as put his hand behind his right ear teasingly.

bzzz

soon the bathroom light cast a beautiful glow on satoru's pale head..

"so, about that deal of ours…" megumi asked, a smug expression adorning his face.

“shut up.”

──────────── extra:

"now, how do we hide my bald spot?" megumi fretted, his hand anxiously exploring his bald spot.

you pondered the predicament, as you reached out and gently tilted megumi's head down, examining the size and shape of the bald spot.

"maybe if you just drench your hair in water, and just keep your hair like that until it grows back you can hide it better?" you suggested, your tone laced with curiosity.

before long, megumi found himself with his head lowered, positioned under the showerhead as water cascaded down, drenching his hair. as he raised his head to meet your gaze, you and satoru froze simultaneously.

in that moment, a chilling flashback to a certain man with jet-black hair and a distinctive scar by his lip swept over both of you.

"NO!" satoru erupted, his voice piercing the air.

"do not do that! do not do that! do not do that!" he repeated in a frenzy, his words echoing with a mixture of fear and sheer panic.

perplexed by the sudden outburst, megumi stood there, his expression a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

“let’s just wear a hat…” you said in a quiet tone.

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satoruhour · 7 months

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omg I’d love to hear more about baby fever + gojo 🥹 just watching him match a babies babbles like he can actually understand them is killing me!!

a/n: omg stop anon this is so CUTE?? and ik i posted like three things today but posts will be slower this week since i still have work to do technically even if i have a school break ! / one sex joke lol

gojo always had a knack for caregiving — whether it was defending yuta against the higher-ups and advocating for yuji’s life (even if it had to be delayed) and making sure that one kid had gotten home safely after getting trapped in an abandoned home. but you realised you’ve never really seen your boyfriend around babies. it wasn’t a good idea in the first place, to mix babies and sorcerers — part of why nanami had waited so long before starting a family with his partner, or how utahime turned in her resignation for good after getting pregnant.

but now that you’re past terrible things in the world like sukuna and kenjaku and you both have properly buried your best friend’s body, you’re looking ahead to better things. you’re not too keen on kids, but you do sometimes spiral into what your kid with satoru would look like, probably taking the bulk of his features while some of yours are fighting to take first place. that sentiment is changed more and more when you see how gojo interacts with kids.

it’s when nanami first invites everyone to their (long overdue) baby shower, only wanting to introduce his partner and kid only a year after they’ve been safe. nanami is the happiest he’s ever been but so is gojo, dancing so foolishly in front of the kid to get her to like him that all she does is scrunch her face and hide back in her mother’s neck (“yeah, that’s nanami’s kid alright.”). soon, she’s let go to interact with the students, playing around with megumi’s dogs, running around the house from yuji and inumaki, doing silly battle poses with the girls. her laughter is like beauty to all the grown-ups in the room, something meant to be protected and cherished.

gojo tries to win her back, sitting on the floor so his height wouldn’t be too imposing and she almost runs into him. his infinity stops her and her head cocks to the side in confusion — she continues to run into gojo’s shield again and again, giggles at being constantly pushed back with a silly sound gojo makes with his mouth; it convinces her enough that she’s running into a bubble of some jelly.

it’s some time later where you’re mingling with nanami’s partner, talking to shoko and utahime while your boyfriend chats with nanami (weirdly normal, you note) about everything. but you’re broken out of conversation when you hear gojo quietly squeal to his junior who only sighs. it’s all a facade; you know he’s actually glad his daughter succumbs to gojo’s charms soon enough, letting him carry the small toddler who’s already oh so tired from the day. she melts into satoru’s arms, mumbling something incoherent that he replies just as incoherently and bounces.

satoru strokes her hair, speaking in a hushed tone now, something that rarely happens in your home and it convinces nanami just a little to make him her godfather. he’s still considering it.

the next time it happens is when he meets utahime’s baby boy for the first time, coming over to provide some gifts and to just see your old friends. it’s a little hilarious how the first two people to have children are the people who are not particularly fond of gojo but both nanami and utahime are surprisingly tame when it comes to the strongest handling their kid. she’s giving him her baby carefully with a clear threat behind her eyes but he knows not to fuck anything up. the baby is clueless enough to not know who he was even being handed to, babbling mindlessly while drool leaves his mouth.

“babba boo-boo,” it’s gibberish, but satoru matches it perfectly, making stupid sounds back at the baby that you can’t help but grin. “wahbaba boo!” gojo continues to coo and mumble insults with a pointed finger to hime, “your mom is too uptight, can you tell her to calm down a little?” which gets a little hey! from the retired sorcerer and the baby attempts to copy his pointing. “mambama!” utahime’s and her partner’s soft gasp is all you need to know that they haven’t heard their baby call any of them, yet.

the baby continues his babbles and blows a raspberry, face lighting up at the bubbles he manages to make with saliva and gojo just has to laugh at how easily entertained children are. you’re stood there, heart melting with the gentleness in which he treats kids, because once the little one is handed back to utahime and you’re saying your goodbyes, you can’t even look at your lover without feeling lightheaded.

“you’re good with kids, y’know.” you’re saying as you remove your coat while satoru toes off his shoes in your home, your shared space. it feels unreal.

gojo pfts, “of course, baby!” he does a cute pose with thumb pointing toward him, “i’m just that good at everything.”

you laugh, “’course you are…” pulling him down, you have to kiss him or else you’d be overflowing with all the love you have for him and it’ll spill everywhere. gojo eases you into the kiss, humming and sighing in contentment.

“i’m just wondering…” you mumble, a little nervous. you’ve never thought of kids that much even but you think it might be due time even if you didn’t have a ring on your finger. “if you ever thought of having a kid with me?”

satoru’s face softens and you can hear his smile, “of course i do, princess. every time.” his voice is soft when he says it and the way it flips your heart makes you dizzy. “but only when you’re ready. and only when i’ve put a big fat rock on your fourth, although if you’re interested in a shotgun…”

you have to shoot him the finger before you’re nodding to yourself just to remind that everything depends on you. even if it takes 5, 10 years, or even if you didn’t want any children at all, gojo is enamoured with you too much to let it be a dealbreaker.

“i want it… soon.” gojo laughs softly at that, taking you into his arms right at your doorstep and kisses you deeply once again. you brace yourself against his toned chest, clutching at his coat with tippy toes. in classic gojo satoru fashion, he has to pull away to make a dirty joke.

“i’m surprised that you aren’t knocked up already with how much i c—”

“gojo satoru. if you finish that sentence—!”

“—um in you…”

you pull a face, resorting to smacking him on the arm and he surrenders with loud laughter and an apology filled with pecks and kisses. standing at the doorway, you’d never think it would happen so soon.

two months later, satoru is getting down on one knee and asking you to marry him.

#anon #asks #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru smut

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redflagshipwriter · 2 months

Text

check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress

next chapter here

(masterpost with this story here)

It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.

Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.

Fuck, what were they going to do next?

Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically.

Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet.

“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.

Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.”

“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”

Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”

He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.

'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’

But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.

The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games.

He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him.

Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized.

Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged.

Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.

Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.

Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???”

“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?”

“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.”

The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”

Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.

“Who's that?” Danny prompted.

Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.”

Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.”

Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started.

#dead on main #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc fanfic #red check yes

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ceruleancattail · 11 months

Note

may I ask for rook, Floyd, silver, and cater with an s/o who’s insecure and hypercritical about their appearance? Like they laugh off compliments and hate looking at mirrors and/or photos because the first thing they see is everything they hate

Rook, Floyd, Silver and Cater with a s/o who’s insecure about their appearance

A hunter’s eye hardly misses anything.

Rook’s seen the way you shy from mirrors, fixing every reflective surface with a glare. The way you fix your hair a hundred times before class, sighing at the reflection. Even when Rook compliments your appearance, you always answer with a self depreciating joke, laughing away his words.

Ah, as stubborn as ever, are you not?

It’s good that you’re not vain, but being too critical of yourself stifles growth. Rook spends hours with you in his dorm room, arms stretched around your torso. He’ll pull you onto his lap, holding you against his chest. A steady heartbeat thumps against your back, his warmth sinking into your very soul.

Chin resting on your shoulder, he whispers fluttery prose after prose into your ear. Praising your eyes, your hair, every single little thing about your appearance. Waxing poetry about your entire being. Even if you try to deny whatever he says, Rook will continue, whispering those sweet words to you. In a sultry purr that leaves your toes curling, face ablaze with red.

Rook truly thinks you’re beautiful. Don’t break his heart like this, Cherie.

Off handed comments are Floyd’s speciality.

He just doesn’t see the point of flattery. Why beat around the bush? Just say what you want to say, never mind the others. You’re the subject of most of his comments. Weirdly sweet compliments, like how soft you look, or perhaps how small your hands are against his.

When you look good, he’ll say so. He doesn’t really appreciate when you laugh off his comments. Y’know, he’s not saying it to flatter you, shrimpy.

He means it.

Taking matters into his own hands, he’ll lean in for a kiss whenever you make a self deprecating comment. His lips smash against yours, a passionate sort of dance between lovers. His hands find your hips, fingers squeezing as tightly as they can. Floyd doesn’t let you move away until you’re breathless, cheeks flushed a scarlet red.

Can’t deny your beauty when you’re panting, chest heaving up and down.

You don’t love yourself? That’s fine.

Floyd will bombard you with so much love, that you’ll forget what hating yourself felt like.

When he’s not sleeping, he’s gazing at you.

Silver will gladly listen to you for hours, leaning onto your shoulder. However, he doesn’t really approve of the way you seem so insistent of putting yourself down. Self deprecating jokes coming out of those soft lips, a scowl on that enchanting face of yours. You’re beautiful, straight out the pages of a fairy tale.

Why would you put yourself down like this?

Musing to himself, Silver lets his hands wander. Slowly caressing your cheeks, grazing your forehead. A light tap on your nose, he chuckles as you scrunch your eyes shut. Palms pressing against your cheeks, he’ll hold you gently, carefully.

Leaning into the crook of your neck, his fingers trace the curves of your arms, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. Guiding your arms around him, Silver lies there in your embrace. His eyelids fluttering, barely awake. You are truly comforting, love.

Silver sincerely hopes one day you’ll feel at home with your own body as he is.

Cater learns early on that you’re not too comfortable with selfies.

You shy away from the camera, avoiding his gaze like the plague. Covering your face with your hands, creeping to the very back in every group shot. Whenever Cater nudges you closer to him, you’ll edge away, joking about your appearance.

It hurts, the things you say about yourself. Sometimes, he wishes to give you his eyes. A little peek into his vision, how you simply shine in his eyes.

Brighter then any flash, a radiant smile. Heck, Cater will gladly go blind, if it meant he could look at you for just a moment longer.

Cater can’t give you his eyes, but he has his phone. A million pictures of you, all captured on the spur of the moment. The way you laugh, mouth wide open with your hair flying in the wind. Spontaneous moments make the best photos, no?

He’ll pull you closer to him, going through albums of photos, pointing out all the parts he likes. You have a wonderful smile in this one, and this shirt really makes your eyes shine out, doesn’t it?

He’ll pepper you with compliments until you admit you’re lovely, alright?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater #cater x reader #silver #silver x reader #twst silver #Floyd x reader #Floyd leech #Floyd leech x reader #Floyd #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #rook #lucky charm🔹

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moon4nge1 · 10 months

Text

Haikyuu!! Imagine

Pairings! Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Oikawa, and Kuroo x f!reader (implied)

Prompt!

⤻ “don’t you know who I am?” He asked, his eyes narrowed at you. You nodded your head, “of course I know who you are. I just don’t care.”

✧ ☽ ✧

Atsumu Miya

His eyes widen in shock, surprised at your response. “What do ya mean ‘ya don’t care’?” He questioned you back, putting up air quotes after repeating your words. You only shrug your shoulders, “I mean I think your popularity is overrated. Like you play volleyball plus you are good looking-“ he cuts you off. “Hmm so you also think I’m good looking?” He teases, leaning towards you. You rolled your eyes at him, pushing his head away, “if you would’ve let me finish, I was going to say, ‘to others, but to me you’re like an average guy.” He can only grin, not seeming to acknowledge your words. “Nah ya think im pretty.” He smiles wide, wrapping an arm around you, much to your protests. “Ahhh it’s alright, everyone joins the ‘Tsumu club at one point”

Osamu Miya

He looks surprised for a spilt second before it disappears. “Hmm you don’t have to lie. It just makes you seem more desperate.” He muttered out, about to turn on his heel and leave. Your eyebrows scrunched together at his words. “Excuse me? I’m sorry but not everyone is your little fan girl Miya.” You exclaimed, your arms crossed against your chest as anger builds within you. He lets out a sigh, “ya right that was a little rude of me, sorry. But seriously I’m not falling for the whole ‘im not an admirer’ thing. It gets old” he groaned, his hand coming up to rub at his face. You can feel a little sympathy for the younger twin in front of you grow, “geez, I’m actually starting to feel bad for you. It happens that much for you to accuse everyone for it?” Your tone was soft, and didn’t hold any previous anger. He looked at you suspiciously, he couldn’t tell if you were being honest with him right now. You shrugged your shoulders, “well consider me not a fan, seriously. I mean you’re very talented, but I’m not going crazy over it like your fans.” You snort, finding it ridiculous how one can go crazy over this boy. He rolled his eyes, “I guess we can be friends.” He stated out of nowhere, catching you off guard. “W-what?” You almost chocked on your saliva. He grins, walking away. “See ya later y/n” he waves to you in the air. You’re left standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway as Osamu turns the corner. “Wait how do you know my name?!” You call after him, but didnt get a reply back as he was already across campus.

Rintarō Suna

“Really?” He questioned, suspiciously eyeing you. You nod your head again, “I don’t know what they see in you honestly. Don’t get me wrong, you’re amazing at volleyball, but outside of it you’re just so normal.” You shrugged you shoulders. He let out a hum, nodding his head. “Well most of the girls are really after the Miya’s” he shrugged, “I can’t tell you how many times a girl has came up to me just for the twins” he grumbled out, annoyed at how many interruptions he gets a day. You let out a low whistle, “well if it helps any better, I’d very much rather pick you over the twins any day” you stated before quickly adding, “still not going to be fan though!” He let’s out snort, nodding his head. “Alright, whatever you say.” He grabs his phone, and a sudden panic fills you. “Wait I’m being for real! Ugh I was just trying to, I guess, cheer you up?” You rushed out, but it sounded more as a question than you clearing the air. He can only grin and pretend to scroll on his phone, amused at how you’re trying to defend yourself.

Tōru Oikawa

He gasped dramatically, his hand placed over his heart. “No way, there’s no way that you’re not whipped for me.” He states matter-of-factly, only making you cringe a little. “Ugh seriously do you always act like this?” You question eyeing him weirdly. He drops the act, letting out a sigh. “Yeah that was a little over the top” he gives you a cheeky smile, before leaning towards you a bit. “Hmm are you sure you’re not whipped for me though?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on his lips. You take a step back surprised, “are you trying to seduce me!?” You accuse, and he immediately stands straight. “N-no I was just.. gosh no why would you think like that” he groans out, his arms outstretched in front of him. You try to hold in your laughter, but fail. “I didn’t expect you to fall for that” you said between laughs. Oikawa has a pout upon his lips as he watches you try to compose yourself. “You’re not funny. That was not funny.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. You wipe away fake tears as you slowly nod your head, “it was little funny.” You guys bickered back and forth, and he couldn’t help but to enjoy having a nice interaction with someone outside his team.

Tetsurō Kuroo

He smirks, “sure doll, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You let out a huff of air, “see this is exactly why I don’t understand how girls fawn over you.” Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Like seriously, the cocky-ness is just too much” he shrugged his shoulders, “it’s not everyone’s cup of tea,” he eyed you. “But hey maybe I can change that” he flirtatiously said, which only earned him a scoff in return. “Yeah, hard pass. I’d much rather stick with being a watcher than a fan.” You stated. He quirked an eyebrow, “if you watch me doesn’t that make you fan?” Your eyes widen slightly, before you’re shaking your head, “listen I can enjoy talent when I see it. But to go out of my way to gain your attention? No way” you clarified. He couldn’t help the smirk that made its way to his lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night doll.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you to walk after him. “I’m serious Kuroo, do not think I’m going to fawn over you!” He only hums in response, a smug look on his face.

©moon4nge1 - please do not steal, copy, or repost on any other platforms without my permission!

✧ ☽ ✧ ps. I hoped you enjoyed this! This is my first time writing an imagine, so I hope it’s good! NOT PROOFREAD!!

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abiiors · 2 months

Text

one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far.

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw.

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish.

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh.

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago.

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close.

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t.

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm.

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it.

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched.

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse.

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward.

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy.

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry.

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass…

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in.

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate.

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive.

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside.

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit.

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up.

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind.

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind.

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel.

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green.

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill.

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind.

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises.

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all.

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry.

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum.

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away.

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you.

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace.

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers.

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear.

“since you asked so sweetly…”

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you.

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again.

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel.

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen.

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes

add yourself to the taglist

#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel smut #minors do not interact #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel fanfic

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miasmaghoul · 4 months

Note

who do u think is the best and worst at riding dick amongst the ghouls

what a STUPENDOUS question!

best to worst below the cut!

Rain - undisputed king of dick riding, whether it be real or silicone. knows exactly how every other ghoul likes it, when to clench and grind and roll his hips just right. he also has crazy high stamina and can ride for a g e s if he feel like it. it's his favorite way to top from the bottom too Aurora - it's her favorite position, and she's damn good at it. not that she minds getting thrown around or pinned to a mattress, but something about being able to bounce with her hands planted on their chest - or thighs, if she's going reverse cowgirl style - drives her wild. as such, she's gotten VERY good at it.

Aeon - one word: flexibility. this boy can be bent and folded into all sorts of novel positions, ones that make even Rain raise a brow, but he'll ride his partner like a pony if they ask for it. he enjoys it too, don't misunderstand, but he likes to be able to keep a greedy hand on himself and that can be difficult when trying to stay balanced.

Dew - small, bendy and energetic, he likes a good ride. preferably with he's bouncing on a ghoul much larger than him. it's not his favorite solely because, unlike Aurora, he actually prefers being overpowered. especially at the end - he has a hard time finishing when he's riding, the effort tires him out, so he'll do it until he can't anymore and then demand to be railed until he can't breathe.

Sunshine - also very energetic, she will ride without argument. however, she has some issues with coordination. finds it difficult to time her bounces with their thrusts, can't focus on touching herself if she's also trying to keep rhythm. no one complains, but they know there are positions that suit her much better.

Cumulus - will ride on request, but it's far from her favorite. it feels amazing, to be sure, but it makes her knees ache and after a few minutes she's usually worn out. she'll take a reclined position any day, preferring to do less of the work but reap all the benefits. the exceptions to the riding thing are Dew and Sunshine, whose warm hands help relieve the soreness in her legs so they can enjoy the feel of her above them a little longer.

Swiss - "bad" isn't how you could describe Swiss' riding style, but most of the others don't have the patience for it. if Swiss wants to ride, it's a commitment - he wants it slow and without prep, wants to sink onto a cock and feel the burning stretch of with minimal lube. it's a specific thing for him, something he really only indulges in with Aether and Cirrus. they give him all the time in the world.

Aether - riding makes him feel weirdly shy, so more often than not he suggests alternatives when asked. Dew, though, gets ridden like a pony whenever he requests it. Aether can tolerate the tightness in his chest much more easily when Dew looks up at him all slack-jawed and stupid while Aether's cock slaps against his belly. sometimes, though, if he needs to feel small, Aether will dress up pretty and ride Mountain until he has tears in his eyes.

Mountain - it's not that he's BAD, per se, but he's got those long, long legs and scrunching them up enough to ride leaves him too sore to make it worthwhile. in all honesty he doesn't bottom often, so if he's in a riding position he's more likely to have his hips held tight and his hold used by whoever has the privilege of being inside.

Cirrus - she's the closest to a stone top amongst my ghouls, so her being at the bottom of the list is mostly perfunctory. could she ride someone til they popped like warm champagne? absolutely. but she would MUCH rather be the one making them bounce on the biggest strap they can handle. if she chooses to ride, though, it's going to be on her terms and probably framed as some hardcore objectification.

#miasma's work #the band ghost headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette

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mindofharry · 29 days

Text

Not a lot, just forever | Psycho!Harry part 2

Mine.

That was the only word Y/N thought of when she woke up from her daze. Her head felt heavy and her arms burned from the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. She winced as she opened her eyes squinting immediately at the tiny bit of sun streaming through the window. Y/N couldn’t feel her legs, all she felt was a throbbing pain in her temples and an awful taste in her mouth. She looked around again, her eyes dancing around the small room she was placed in. She knew she was lying in a bed, a double bed with a comforter underneath her. There was a window on the wall in front of her, the curtains only light so the sun could shine through. It was a normal bedroom. With a chest of drawers, a vanity with makeup and creams, book shelves and pictures surrounding the walls.

But this wasn’t Y/N’s room. This wasn’t her bed. Where was she? Why was she here?

Sweat dripped down in her forehead as she began to groan and gnaw at the ropes with her teeth, weirdly enough she wasn’t gagged and her dentist always said she had sharp molars. After a few minutes of trying to bite through the ropes, she stopped dropping her arms in defeat. She let out an inhumane scream and squirmed around on the bed pushing the pillows onto the floor.

“Are you finished?”

Y/N screamed loudly at the voice.

It was him. The guy from the diner.

“Was trying to be nice by not gagging you, but I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” He mused. He had a slight accent which in any other scenario, Y/N would’ve found sexy. She always had a thing for British boys.

She shook her head violently, pieces of hair falling from her already messy pony tail. She had to get herself out of this, she just had to.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N shook with fear, but his grin only widened at her terrified figure. Its almost like he took pleasure in the fact that this girl, this woman, is the most afraid she’s ever been in her entire life.

“You don’t want me to gag you?” He asked pausing slightly taking in her figure, he bit his lip to compose himself.

“Maybe I’ll have you gag on my cock instead,” He hummed, enjoying the tear running down his loves face. He moved closer to her, using the tip of his thumb to wipe the lone tear streaming down her pale face.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here to look after you. I’ll never hurt you, ever,” He promised and for some reason Y/N believed him.

“I’m Harry. And I’m going to loved you so hard, baby,” Harry said planting his lips on hers. Y/N scrunched her face up but this man did not let up, grabbing her cheeks and diving his tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t help but moan at the contact, liking the feeling of being under his submission.

Harry smirked again and leaned back his green eyes looking over her face, analysing every detail.

“Don’t even need to train you, already such a good girl for me. Bet you’re soaked, from being all tied up, no one to help you, no one to hear you scream for mercy,” Harry taunted his index finger trailing down the middle of hr body. Y/N’s breath hitched and she wasn’t quite sure if she was sobbing for less or for more.

“You love this. I knew you would,” Harry nodded, excitedly.

“God, the things I am going to do to you,”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic

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theaudacitytowrite · 3 months

Text

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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tokio-motel · 7 months

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LETTING BILL DO YOUR MAKEUP

reader is intended to be male but gender/pronouns aren't mentioned 😪

"Bill that hurts."

"Hush, no it doesn't. Stop being a baby."

You groan as he adds another pump of foundation onto the sponge and starts patting your face with the color. Surely this isn't how he does his own makeup, he's pelting the sponge into your face so hard your sure you'll get a bruise later that day.

You sigh in relief as he pulls away and places the sponge someplace else. The slim feeling of happiness you had rushes out of your body as he picks up his eyeliner and smiles softly at you.

"Look up, okay? It'll be easier to apply."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you oblige, turning your head up to the ceiling. Bill giggles quietly and you can see from the side of your eye he's shaking his head slightly. "No, not like that you dunce.." He grabs your face in his hands and turns it back to face him. "Roll your eyes up." he mumbles, opening the pallet and dipping the small brush into the black powder. as he scooches closer to see your face better.

You can only moan in defeat as you really have no way to back out now, he's so close he's practically ontop of you. The chalky, dry feeling of the eyeshadow streaking across your eyes is unsettling and uncomfortable at first but you eventually get used to it. You hum quietly under your breath, earning a light smack on the arm and a quiet 'let me concentrate.'

This time, you let out a giggle yourself, causing your body to shake ever so slightly which makes his hand quiver. You barley have time to feel the fast streak of makeup zoom across your cheek. Really, it's quite baffling how he got it on your fucking cheek...

"Oh my god!" he groans, acting as though he's seeing the most horrific crime of his life. "You made me mess up! Stop moving..." he can't help but snicker himself and grin, wiping away the black stain and going back over it with the foundation.

If this is how your process would go, you would be here for a loooooooooooong time.. You feel like a canvas right now, being painted on with all these different colors. You wouldn't be surprised if you faced the mirror and ended up looking like you belong in a circus.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he put down the eyeshadow pallet and picked up a kohl pencil. You almost smile, this seemed like the easiest step yet! "That goes on my eyebrows, yeah? To fill them in..?" you asked, feeling rather confident. Bill can only laugh, shaking his head once more as he moves closer to you (if that's even possible)

He is quite literally straddling your lap, holding the pencil in hand and coming closer to your eye. You flinch as you see the sharp tip come closer to you, grabbing his arm with your hand to stop him from moving.

"We just did my eyes, no?"

"....this is something different baby."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and surprisingly overcome it. You scrunch your nose as he gently pulls your cheek down with his thumb, opening your eyes a bit. Then, to your horror, he attempts to put the pencil wayyy to close to your eyeball.

You try to pull away but to no avail, he grips your shoulder and forces you still. "It doesn't hurt if you cooperate, honey.." True, it didn't hurt badly, but it felt weirdly unsanitary when the pencil tip dragged across your waterline.

After what seemed like ages he pulled away, grinned, and pushed a mirror right in front of your face. You blinked a few times, staring back at your own reflection. You almost looked like Bill with all the makeup.

You looked..good.

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x male reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x female reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x male reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x non binary reader #bill kaulitz x female reader #x male reader #x reader

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buckychristwrites · 11 months

Text

About You | Day 4 | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Idk maybe its kinda fluffish. Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

It was admittedly difficult to sleep that night. Firstly, the couch was just not your choice of a preferred sleeping spot. Secondly, it was weird having a person sleeping in your bed, especially a person who you didn’t sleep with, and especially especially since that person was Jamie Tartt.

Which explains why you were up so early, two pans on the stove with breakfast. One with eggs, the other with potatoes frying up. On the counter was the bread, waiting patiently to be cooked in the toaster.

Movement in the bedroom told you that Jamie was awake. Turning from the pans, you threw two slices of bread into the toaster. By the time you had turned back, the door to the bedroom crept open and slow footsteps made their way down the hallway. Rubbing his eyes, Jamie appeared in the open living room. When you looked up at him, you found him still just in his boxers. The two of you stared at each other for a while with similar looks of surprise. You couldn’t say why he was in shock, but for you, it was because of the nakedness.

“I woke up thinkin’ that I had the strangest dream,” He said slowly, looking around the room with squinted eyes. His back was facing you when he spoke again. “Guess it was not a dream.”

“Not a dream,” You said, scrunching your face. He flopped down on your couch, running his hands up and down his face.

“Drank too much,” He admitted. “My head is fuckin’ killin’ me.”

“Did your clothes evaporate overnight?” You asked him in an unusually high pitched voice. Though you weren’t looking at him, you could sense his eyes jump back towards you.

“They’re still on the floor, thanks.”

“Well, thank God. I was worried, since you decided not to dress before coming out.” He was trying and failing to hide a smile.

“Fine, fine.” He sauntered back towards the bedroom, and against your better judgement, you looked up from the stove, letting your gaze fall up and down his backside before he disappeared down the hall.

“We have to be out the door soon, so hurry up!” You called to him, receiving a groan in response. The toast popped out of the toaster suddenly, making you jump. You grabbed a plate and filled it with half the food, setting it down before doing the same with another. When Jamie re-entered the scene, this time fully clothed and with brushed hair, you handed him a plate.

“Eat fast. I’ll drive us to work.” The sentence felt so weirdly domestic, and you wanted to hate it more than you did.

He nodded, taking a seat at the small dining table and digging in. You sat across from him and did the same. It was a silent meal, but comfortable, as if the two of you had been eating meals together for a long time. Before you knew it, the plates were empty. Jamie stood just as you were about to and grabbed your dish.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” You said, reaching to take them from him, but he waved you off.

“Please.”

You said nothing more, instead rushing towards the bedroom so you could get ready. From the kitchen, you could hear water running and dishes clanking together, making you freeze. Is he doing the dishes? You finished getting dressed and quickly brushing your hair before walking back out. Jamie was just pulling the gloves off his hands as you came into view. Turning towards you, he looked you up and down, expressionless, before speaking.

“You good?” He asked. You nodded, a surreal feeling washing over you.

How did your day start like this?

The two of you made your way down to the car park, where you climbed into the driver’s side. The rain was still modestly falling, although it was nowhere near the magnitude it had been the morning prior. Despite turning the car on, you made no move to leave, even after Jamie was in and secured. A few seconds passed before you felt his stare fall on you.

“I think we should start over,” You said, before turning your head to meet his gaze. “We’ve both done things, and continuing to fault the other for the past is counterproductive. I think we should go into today with a clean slate between us.”

“Dunno,” He said as you came to a stop light. A moment of deja vu hit you as you turned to face him, reminding you of the evening before. When you met his eye, you found him smirking. “I kinda like bein’ mean to ya.”

“Well, in that case…” You trailed off, the both of you laughing at the exchange. After a second, you tilted your head. “I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends who braid each other’s hair and share their deepest darkest secrets. But at least while I’m around for the next week, we can pretend.”

He lifted a finger at you before saying, “Or two.” You looked at him in confusion.

“Or two what?”

“Weeks.”

“Or two weeks,” You repeated back to him in agreement.

But you didn’t think it was pretending, at least not for you. It was then that you realised that you were, indeed, starting to like Jamie Tartt as a person. Though he was still stubborn and arrogant, the night before had been a moment of clarity for you. He was just as broken as everyone else, despite his cool exterior. Inside, he was just a young boy, begging for validation and affirmation. But most importantly, he was begging for the love he didn’t receive from his father. Beyond that, the night before had you laughing the hardest that you had in a while.

The car behind you honked, you cursing under your breath as you drove through the green light that you had, once again, missed.

“I think you’re right,” He finally said. A smile playing at your lips, you glanced over at him. “It’s hard bein’ angry that you’re here.” He paused, and it was then you noticed the water bottle in his lap, which was he messing with the lid of. “You…” A beat passed. “You didn’t turn out to be the villain I’d made you in me head all these years.”

Something about that made your heart swell.

“You’re not as bad as I made you out to be, either.” You smiled with your face forward. And though you weren’t looking at him, you thought you caught a smile out of the corner of your eye.

“Although,” He added, his voice quiet. You eyed him, waiting patiently. He let out a slight laugh, rubbing his forehead. “You actually do know my deepest, darkest secrets now.”

Something fluttered in your stomach.

The next thing either of you knew, you were putting the car in park. A few spaces over was Jamie’s car, patiently waiting for him. You pulled his keys out of your purse and handed them.

“I take it you'll need those.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but immediately seemed to backtrack. You studied him. For a man who had been drinking so hard the night before, he seemed like he was in good spirits. Suddenly, he was jumping out of the car.

“Can’t sit here all day, can we?”

You followed, having another moment of deja vu as the two of you walked in the club together. Despite having worked there for what you could assume was a while, the security guard still appeared overjoyed at the sight of Jamie, and forgot to check your pass.

It seemed like the entire team was waiting for the pair of you, for once he, then you, entered, a chunk of them circled around like a pack of dogs.

“What happened last night?”

“Did you drive, Jamie? Is your car okay?”

“Did you sleep on the street?”

“Lads, lads, let’s calm down, yeah? A man is still nursin’ a hangover,'' Jamie pushed through them to get to his locker. Once he had broken from the pack, all eyes landed on you. The anxiety in your chest began to creep up.

“I drove him to his place. threw him in bed, and then I went back home, myself,” You explained to them. Over Dani’s shoulder, you could see Jamie look over at you. Holding his gaze for a moment, he nodded at you as if to thank you. You looked back at the others without giving any sort of reply. They all seemed to accept this explanation without further questioning.

“We are just glad you got home safely,” Sam said, a wide smile that he gave to both you and Jamie.

“Didn’t seem concerned when you sent the enemy after me, did ya?” Jamie asked, making the others roar out in laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh along with them as you could hear the playfulness in his tone.

“We were just gonna let what God intended to happen, happen, bruv,” Isaac said to him.

“Maybe God intended for her to go after you, Jamie!” Dani added.

Jamie and you exchanged a look before quickly looking away. Your cheeks grew very hot. Jamie awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

With immaculate timing, the coaches entered in that moment, saving the both of you from having to come up with a response. You took your place against the wall, although now you allowed yourself to stand a bit closer to Jamie’s locker.

As they spoke, you took notes.

“Didya ever think that maybe you’d learn more if you listened than just writing down whatever they say?” Jamie whispered into your ear. His breath was warm against your skin. Ignoring that feeling, you shot him a glare.

“I don’t need to know how to play football,” You reminded him, glancing at the coaches to make sure they weren’t privy to the two of you talking before going on. “So I don’t need to learn what all this means.”

“Just tryna help ya sound smart for ya article.”

“Are you saying I sound stupid?”

“You could sound smarter…”

“And who made you the expert on sounding smart?”

“Meself, obviously.”

“What are your qualifications, footballer?”

“Well-“

“I’m sorry, is this meetin’ interruptin’ you?” Roy’s voice boomed through the room, making the two of you jump.

“Sorry,” Jamie called out, raising his hand in apology. You lowered your head and furiously pretended to be writing notes innocently. Roy’s glare lingered for another few seconds before Beard continued talking.

When everyone began to head towards the tunnel, you walked towards the entrance to the stands.

“Oi.” You turned to see Jamie watching you. “Just come out with us. You can stand with the coaches.” When you opened your mouth to counter him, he waved his arm towards himself as a gesture to follow him. “It’ll be easier for you to take your wee notes. Let’s go.” Conceding, you followed him out onto the pitch.

The rain had stopped, the sky still blanketed with clouds. The players started running their drills. You stood a few feet behind the coaches. Being on the pitch as opposed to the stands did make a difference. It was much easier to hear the coaches, and you could hear the players as well.

“So,” A voice next to you said. You jumped, damn near throwing your notepad across the field before turning to find Beard next to you, standing in the same exact stance when he had been in front of you just moments before. “A truce was called, then?” After you remembered how to breathe, you nodded.

“We talked it out, I think.” The two of you looked out in time to see Jamie fold over in laughter over something Isaac said.

“I haven’t seen him in such high spirits since Ted left,” Beard admitted. The mention of the former head coach brought your thoughts to a screeching halt. You glanced at him for a brief second before turning back to Jamie.

“He hasn’t brought Lasso up at all to me.”

Beard blew a raspberry, shaking his head. “He was really torn up about it. I don’t think he wanted anyone to know.” He was thoughtful as he continued to watch the footballer kick a ball into the net. “I think he viewed him as a father figure.” You thought back to the conversation from your car, where Jamie told you about his abusive father. The pain in his voice was so clear, along with the hesitation to tell you.

“He told me a little about his dad,” You said quietly.

“I’ve never witnessed such behaviour from a parent,” Beard admitted. “Disgusting.” This truly grabbed your attention, making you turn your entire body towards the coach.

“You saw it?” You asked. “You saw his father abuse him?” The expression on Beard’s face became a pained one, the memory clear as day on his face.

“It was at Wembley, when we played Man City,” He explained. “Pops came backstage, clearly sloshed. Wanted to bring his buddies through security to take pictures of the pitch. Jamie said no.” He began to shake his head. “Started calling his own son names, and getting in his face. We had lost, morale was low. Jamie clobbered him right in the nose.” At this, he looked proud. “He deserved more than that, but I’m glad he got what he did get.”

You felt sick. The breakfast you had worked so hard to make was threatening to make a reappearance all over the rich green grass.

When Jamie had told you about his dad, you had assumed it had happened a long time ago, maybe as soon as when he had just started out. Never would you have ever thought that it was happening so recently that Coach Beard, or any of the current members of the team for that matter, would’ve been there to bear witness.

No wonder your articles hurt him so much. It all made more sense now. He was getting abused two fold.

The second your eyes found Jamie, seeing his smile as he passed the ball to his teammates, you felt a surge of pride towards him. He was a huge jerk for a long time, following in the shadow of his father. But he learned, and he grew. Now he knew kindness and love.

The transformation was quite magical.

The whistle blew and the players made their way towards the coaches. Jamie stood next to you, eyeing you curious.

“You alright?”

You turned to face him, and it felt like you were seeing him for the first time.

“I’m good.”

He stared at you for a long time, eyes searching your face, before nodding. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned to face the front again. You began taking notes again. It was hard to focus, with the newfound information fighting to be at the forefront of your mind. It felt strange, knowing something so intimate about Jamie that he hadn’t told you. Part of you wondered if you should tell him, but maybe that wasn’t for the best. You weren’t out of the woods yet when it came to your relationship with him, and it wasn’t best to rock the boat further. Maybe after the article you’d-

No. After the article, you’d be back to business as usual. There wouldn’t be any chances to talk to him about anything, really. You’d be off the pitch and back in your office. He’d continue to play football and be Jamie. And it would be like none of this ever happened.

Why the fuck is this making me so sad? You asked yourself.

Pulling you from your thoughts was Jamie bumping his hip against yours. You jumped slightly, before turning to look at him. His face was filled with amusement.

“Sorry, Jumpy,” He said with a voice filled with laughter. “I was thinkin’ we could have a chat after practice, if ya want.” You shook your head with more force than you intended.

“Yeah, that would be great!” There must’ve been something off about your tone, for he knitted his eyebrows together, his head tilting slightly.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Inhaling slowly, you nodded again. This time with more ease.

“I’m fine, Tartt.” At first, he seemed shocked that you were back to calling him by his last name, but the smile you gave seemed to placate him, as he returned it almost as quick.

When practice was over, and the field had been cleared out, it was just Jamie and yourself who remained. You sat in the grass, running your fingers across the even cut blades. Jamie was standing, and was moving around as if he wasn’t able to stop.

“Do you ever relax?” You asked him, your phone already set to record. He paused at this, raising his hands in question.

“I’m always relaxed.”

“That’s definitely not true.” He scoffed, but you continued. “What do you do to unwind?” This made him stop, genuine thought on his face.

“I dunno,” He admitted. “I like havin’ a pint with friends. Layin’ on me couch sometimes.” When his eyes found you again, he found your face scrunched up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m gonna make that the headline,” You said as you raised your hands and wrote a line in the air in front of you. “‘Jamie Tart: He Also Drinks Beer and Lays On The Couch.’” He laughed.

“Fuck off.” Shaking your head, you looked around at the field.

“If you could talk to any deceased person for 30 seconds, who would it be and what would you say?”

The next words out of his mouth hit you like a train. In the most earnest voice, he said, “I’d talk to George Harrison, and tell him thank ya for inspirin’ me to live my life.”

The recording was instantly turned off, as it was ruined by the way you were laughing. Jamie looked scandalised as you fell backwards into the grass.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“Didn’t you only just find out about George Harrison dying?”

“I didn’t know!” He shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Can’t know everything all the time, can I?” As you came down from your laughter, wiping a tear from your eye, you shook your hand.

“No, you can’t.”

He started moving around again, and you watched him. Recalling the conversation from earlier with Beard, you bit your lip.

“What about living?”

He paused.

“What?”

You inhaled sharply. “If you could say whatever you wanted to any living person, with no consequences, what would you say?”

This made him really freeze, his eyebrows properly knitted together. After a moment of silence, he took a few steps forward and sat down just a few feet from you. Elbows on his knees, he rested his chin in his palms.

“I’d ask my dad why I wasn’t enough to keep ‘im sober.” All traces of humour left your face. He nodded before continuing, “I’d tell him I needed him to treat me as more than a punchin’ bag.” Another beat passed. “And then I’d thank him. I’m the man I am today in spite of him. And I’m proud of that.”

He was staring at his hands right then. You smiled at him.

“You should be.”

His head jumped upward, eyes falling on you once more. Your smile was more broad this time, as you leaned forward a little.

“Yeah?” He asked, as if his opinion was hanging by the thread of your answer.

You nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso fanfiction

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joshlmbrt · 6 months

Note

Also I was wondering if you could do King steve harrington falls in love with good girl innocent reader and he changes for the best once he starts dating her and just fluffy fluff

I don’t wanna lose you, hope it never ends. part one.

[ part two | part three ]

summary: robin’s ramblings of tammy thompson, king steve being . . . himself, you having a crush, movie nights with cherry coke & exaggerated conclusions from robin, and a toothrotting kiss candy, and dustin, and a call that never comes.

warnings: not gender specific, king!steve era, hopefully toothrotting fluff, one small mentions of death - really quick though, and maybe a smidge of angst at the end.

an: loved this request, and loved writing this! thank you again for requesting 😭🫶🏻 (might write a part two because i kind of see this going somewhere …. what do we think? 😛)

MONDAY.

“And she looked at me!” Robin squeals into your ear, your face scrunching up from the noise.

“Yeah, yes. That’s-That’s great, Robs.” You don’t mean to sound rude, but the ringing in your ear from your friend didn’t help the headache at all.

She pouts, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter? You don’t love me anymore?”

You send a teasing glance her way. “Trust me. You’d know if I didn’t,” She grins. “I do love you, but I’m just tired.” You shut your locker door, glancing over Robins shoulder.

“Great!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shaking you a bit. “But stop looking a Steve. You’re making me wanna gag.”

Your jaw drops. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

Her face drops and her eyes droop a bit, giving you a ‘really?’ look. “Yeah, okay. I can practically see the heart eyes! Anyone can!”

“Oh, come on! I’m not looking at him!” Or his dreamy brown eyes, the blue sweater and levi’s that always seem to fit him perfectly, or the-

“You can deny all you want, but I know you,” She points at you, closing one eye. “And I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” Quite literally because every time you seem to look at Steve, your mind goes totally blank.

“They broke up.”

“Who?” You feign confusion. You knew who.

She gives you the same look. “Steve and Nancy.”

You pout a bit, walking past Robin and she follows after you. “That’s too bad. They were cute.”

Robin rolls her eyes so far, you’re worried they’ll get stuck in the back of her head.

You walk past the smell of cashmere and Marlboro Reds smoke. A weirdly, sweet combination that you’d love for it to linger.

Your eyes glance towards Steve, quickly looking away once you realize he’s already looking.

Your cheeks flush and you tighten your grip on your books and you keep your head down, as always.

FRIDAY.

You slip into your chair, happy that the day has flew by and tonight is yours and Robins annual movie night.

On tonight: THE OUTSIDERS

Snacks: popcorn, cherry coke, and gummies.

The seat beside you scrapes against the floor and you wince at the sound, leaning over to grab your folder and pencil.

Before placing the items down, you pause.

There’s a folded up piece of paper on the desk in front of you.

Your eyes cut over to the left.

The seat is empty.

They glance towards the right.

And widened.

Steve Harrington - King of Hawkins - sitting next to you.

It was completely fine. You’re completely fine. There’s no way you were sweating right now.

Absolutely not.

Especially when he looks over at you, a smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes glance at the paper before quickly looking back at you, nodding slightly.

You force yourself to look away, placing your folder and pencil down finally, slowly, before picking up the paper.

You hoped you didn’t look too eager while opening it.

Call me.

And below was his number. You quickly look back over at him and he nods once again. You nod softly, folding the paper back and placing it into your bag.

You squeal internally.

FRIDAY NIGHT.

“So, tomorrow?” You twirl the cord around your finger.

You were the embodiment of a lovesick teenager, legs folded together at the ankles, swinging back and forth, giggling as you blush and look down at your sheets.

Robin lifts her brows as she stops by your door, watching you.

Lovesick teenager. I knew it.

You quickly look up, smiling at her widely.

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up. 6:30?”

“That sounds good. I’ll see then,” You pause before looking away from Robin. “Goodnight, Steve.”

You then hang up, placing your phone over to the side.

You slowly sit up, avoiding Robin’s ‘I told you so’ look.

“I-”

You finish for her. “Told you so,” You lie back onto your bed, feeling it dip under Robin’s weight as she joins your side after dropping her bag off in the corner of your room. “But hey, what was I supposed to do? Pass up the offer to go on a date with Steve?”

She gives you a look. “Personally, I would. But we are different.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her shoulder with yours. “If it doesn’t go well, no more Steve.”

“Promise? Every time you look at him I wanna throw myself off of a building.”

You sit up, huffing at her - always one to be dramatic. “Yes. I promise. Now come on, Patrick Sawyze is in my VCR waiting for us.”

She cackles at that, standing up after kicking off her converse. “You’re so dramatic.

SATURDAY.

“What if you guys get married and run off and you leave me here?” Robin asks suddenly.

You almost burn yourself with your hot iron. You place it down. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of the blue while i’m holding a hot iron close to my face,” You turn to look at the girl who was laying on your bed, flipping pages of magazines slowly.

She looked sad.

You frown a bit, standing from your vanity chair and walk over to her, laying beside her on your stomach and you nudge her shoulder softly.

“Hey, Robs,” You say softly. “I know you’re worried about not finding anyone. . . But I promise you, you will,” She looks up at you now. “We’re teenagers for crying out loud! I’m doing this so I can go on a date.”

“And because you like Steve.” She points out.

You rub your lips together. “And because I like Steve,” You repeat her words. “But you will find someone, okay? You’re a great person with a wonderful personality. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You pat her hand.

She smiles and leans her head on your shoulder, her vanilla shampoo invades your nose.

“And even if we did run off, I definitely wouldn’t forget you. You’d be coming with us.” You laugh softly.

She giggles a bit at that, shaking her head. You lift from your bed, patting her head softly before continuing getting ready.

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” She asks.

You smile. “You’re my best friend too.”

SATURDAY NIGHT, 6:30.

A knock makes you almost jump out of your skin. Robin was long gone, wanting to go home before any mushy stuff happened - you wanted to roll your eyes at her.

Your parents definitely wouldn’t be knocking.

So that means. . . it could only be one person.

You stand from the couch, smoothing out your clothes before walking towards the door and opening it.

Steve Harrington in all his Levi glory.

And pretty flowers.

“You look great.” He smiles softly. He then holds the flowers out for you. You grab them from his hand.

“Thank you,” You smile. “You do too. I’ll put these in some water before we go. You can come in if you’d like.”

He nods, stepping into the home, but not allowing himself to go any further.

You step into the kitchen, moving as quick as you could, before placing them in the middle of the counter.

“Alright,” You step out into the living room. “I’m ready.”

He nods, opening the door for you, allowing you to go first.

And the rest of the night, he was a real gentleman.

Opening doors for you, holding your hand, and paying for the snacks at the Drive-in, keeping a respectful distance unless you had moved closer.

The walk to your front door made you feel sad that it was over, but happy that it happened.

“I had fun.” Steve nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looks at you.

You smile, eyes crinkling at the sides. “Yeah, me too,” You tuck some hair behind your ear. “We should. . . We should do this again.”

“Yeah,” He nods. There was a piece of hair that had landed against his forehead. You wanted to push it away. “We should.”

He steps closer.

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart speeding up.

“I’ll call you.”

Your eyes brighten up at the words. “Really?”

“Mhm.” His breath smelt like cherries and toothrotting sugar.

Your eyes track his movements. The leaning in, the fluttering of his eyes, and his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

Your eyes close, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

And a peck on the cheek is what you’re met with.

Your eyes quickly open and you watch as he pulls back, a small smile on his face.

“Goodnight.” He hums softly, walking off.

You stand there, baffled. “G-goodnight.” You call after him.

He turns to glance back at you, before shaking his head a bit, getting into his car.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON.

“Maybe he died.” Robin says nonchalantly.

You gasp. “Robs!”

“What?!”

“Don’t. . . Don’t say that!”

“Oh, come on. I didn’t mean that in a bad way! Accidents happen all the time! You know, about-”

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, Dustin’s wants me to play this game. Bye, Robs. I’ll call you later.” You quickly hang up, not wanting to hear the possibility of Steve’s death being accidental.

Dustin glances up at you. “Finally!”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Sorry, Dusty. It’s just you and I now! Okay. What’s the rules?”

Dustin grins, his eyes lighting up.

The poor boy didn’t even realize you weren’t listening, just nodding along to whatever he was saying, eyes glancing back at the phone.

Waiting for the call that would never come.

thank you for reading! likes, comments, reblogs, and feedback is always welcomed!

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things one shots #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you

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