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anglingforlevels · 6 months

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Open House (Yandere House x Reader)

When people say the housing market is a nightmare, is this what they had in mind? (The story goes out to me because I’m trying to get an apartment and it is Suffering. Please pretend this count as yandere.)

CW: not proofread, unconventional captivity, swearing, I accidentally had too much fun writing Abby and forgot the point of the story-

Minors DNI

When you proudly had reached the saving milestone to buy a small house in the countryside, you had opted to spend some of that money on a real estate agent, figuring it was a good investment, hiring a Ms. Abby Bardot – who, over the phone, had insisted heavily on being called Abby rather than Ms. Bardot – who had twenty years of experience in the field.

Quite quickly, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t the most conventional real estate agent.

Ms. Abby, you quickly noticed at your first meeting, was all hand-wringing and nervous sweating, though she seemed sweet enough, having clutched a tin of home-cooked cookies in all shades of black and almost-not-black, and had heartily insisted you’d take as many as you’d like (which was zero).

She had insisted on bringing you to an open house for what she had called a hidden gem of a house, that it would be a private tour. To you, once she mentioned it would be at 1 p.m., it was quite obvious that “private tour” meant, “no one else has or will be showing up”.

Ms. Abby had also enthusiastically shown pictures of the place, pictures she had ready-at-the-go on her phone, presumably she really needed a buyer for the house.

“Ms. Abby.” You had said, interrupted with a small interjection of, Oh please, just Abby. “Ms. Abby, that’s not quite a house and more so a small manor. I went over my budget with you when I hired you.” Ms. Abby had quickly recovered from the rejection and puffed out her chest proudly.

“Why that’s the best part, this is within your budget!”

You had sent her a dubious look at this. “Are the pictures… How do I put this delicately? Are the pictures recent and unedited?”

Ms. Abby deflated so quickly that it almost felt impressive, almost urging you to clap as if it was a circus performance. Of course, it felt mean had you clapped at her dejected look.

“It’s well-kept, I assure you. These pictures are all recent, I’ve updated them every year for almost my entire career!” She said proudly, and you almost felt pity at the fact she didn’t seem to realize her own slip-up but instead paraded it around like a badge of honor.

Though, all-in-all you were charmed, and somewhat endeared, by the honesty. But not very much by the house at all. “I think I’d like to look at other options, it’s awfully big for just one person.”

“Ah, wait!” Ms. Abby said urgently. “Please, before we continue with other options, let’s first try out the open house this Friday.”

“Is this protocol, Ms. Abby?” Ms. Abby’s lips wobbled at this and… “Are you crying?!”

“No, I’m a professional. Real Estate Agents don’t cry, I’m simply sweating, is all.” Ms. Abby sniffled, dubbing her eyes with a handkerchief, presumably you were meant to believe her eyes were suffering heat stroke on this fine autumn day.

“…Alright, I’ll go to the open house. Just give me the address.” You eventually relented, if only to avoid seeing the pitiful sight of a teary-eyed Ms. Abby.

That’s how you ended up before a grand house out in the middle of nowhere, the closest town was an hour-long drive away. Forest and fields were most of the surroundings, which was why the house was in such stark contrast, standing as a sole presence, the forests and fields shying away to make room for it, leaving a vast vacancy around it, stretching on for at least fifty meters.

It really was a pristine house, when comparing it to the pictures, it seemed to match right down to the placement of every rock and plant in sight. As if someone had consciously placed each leaf and pebble.

The plants and trees of the garden donned vibrant colors despite the season. You wondered how often Ms. Abby came by, or if she had hired a crew for maintenance, as you could not spot even the slightest hint of dirt or spiderwebs.

The only thing that looked aged was, unfortunately, the “For Sale” sign.

It felt a little unnatural, but you chalked it up to currently being a display house, and thus not lived-in either. You took notice of the way the trees beyond the reach of the garden were withered and wrinkled, and the grass yellowy, dry patches, barely hiding the dirt beneath.

“Some more forest could really do this place some good.” You mumbled. You hesitated for reasons you didn’t fully understand before stepping beyond dead plants clinging loosely to your feet and entering the garden.

You felt a prickling sensation behind your eyes the further you traveled, the door felt so far when the weight of something cloyingly attentive seemed to drag you down as if to prevent your advances.

“You’re here!” A delighted Ms. Abby yelled out before the sound of pitter-patter was interrupted by a loud thud against the door that rattled the frame. With her energy dampened, a sheepish Ms. Abby appeared behind the front door, simply saying; “It opens the other way.”

Right, something attentive could only have been the attention of the overzealous Ms. Abby.

“Come in, come in!” She invited, all but pulling you stumbling into a most decadently, lavishly decorated foyer. From distasteful stuffed animal heads to the ruby red furniture and mosaic glass tables, it felt quite uncomfortable, all sharp angles and very little homeliness to it, like an ornate display of wealth rather than a welcome into a household.

“Not very welcoming, huh?” You commented, which Ms. Abby elected not to respond to, though the small “eep” suggested she had heard the negative impression.

Looking the room over it was impossible for your eyes not to rest at the centerpiece of the foyer: A huge painting above the staircase. A solemn-looking guy stared out into the air, curly locks framing his face. Old paintings always looked miserable, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was a glint of genuine misery in his eyes. Noticing your attention had wandered, Ms. Abby followed your eyes.

“Oh, that was an owner of the house who had it commissioned back during the Renaissance, they wanted it right here, in the heart of the house.” She explained though you couldn’t say you agreed to a decadent foyer being the heart of a house, and if it was, that wasn’t boding well for Ms. Abby’s already poor sales chances.

“I’ve never understood why someone would want to pay money to look miserable in a painting, like you’re paying for it, at least make yourself smile or something.” Your jab was met with Ms. Abby’s impressive ability to carry on like you had said nothing negative at all.

“You know, the owner claimed it was a Jan van Eyck-original too.” Ms. Abby said as if letting you in on a secret, or town gossip. “Really, we’ve had it appraised.”

“And the appraiser confirmed it was a Jan van-whatever original?”

“…The owner really loved art; you’ll see plenty of paintings throughout the place.”

So that was a no. And speaking of no’s:

“Listen, Ms. Abby, I don’t exactly have the budget for a big house, as I already said. I especially don’t have the kind of budget that the kind of person who’d commission an artist to paint them for their foyer would have.”

Abby laughed nervously. “Well, you see, the value’s dropped as I mentioned. We haven’t been able to sell it for a long time, so the price just kept falling.”

“Right. But even so, it can’t have fallen that much.”

At this, Abby avoided eye contact, wringing her hands before, after a big breath, blurting it out. “The person in the painting was the last person to own the house.”

…

“Is this place built on top of an oilfield or something?”

Ms. Abby laughed a hearty if a bit shrill, laughter, before sighing and mumbling. “If only.” She clapped. “But! This is a charming house, why, let me show you the many rooms!”

“Ms. Abby, have you ever considered a field outside of sale?” You asked dryly but nonetheless followed along, eager to leave behind the painting, as you felt watched. The house consisted of many sprawling hallways, enough to almost make one dizzy, and you struggled to remember where everything was.

The house had many rooms, none of them particularly inviting, reading more like a historical display room lacking any warmth or heart (and perhaps even worse, any semblance of renovation despite old age), and all absolutely clustered with trinkets, knickknacks, and in the case of the walls, paintings – leaving very little free space.

It really did read like a historical display, as some rooms seemed older than others, suggesting partial renovation must have been done on some of the rooms. You’d like a word with whoever had been in charge of that lackluster, nonsensical effort.

Perhaps the lack of replaced furniture or renovation was why the house periodically seemed to creak and moan in odd ways, at times you almost confused it as Ms. Abby groaning or sighing, only to realize it was the sound of the house itself.

As for Ms. Abby, she remained undeterred regardless of how many snide remarks you made, which you had to commend her for, though the charm you initially had felt from it was quickly wearing off. Ms. Abby actually seemed increasingly happy, humming to herself. She didn’t think the sale was going well, did she?

“How much of the house is there left to see, Ms. Abby?” You asked, increasingly impatient and tired, having been dragged through an unreasonable number of rooms, which inexplicably, almost all were bedrooms (and yet, you had yet to see more than a single bathroom).

“Well, we’re still missing a couple rooms like the kitchen, oh! I know, how about the master bedroom since you’ll be spending every night there.” She said with a beaming smile.

“That’s awfully optimistic, Ms. Abby.” You noted, at this you received a good-hearted chuckle.

“Oh, this place is too lovely to pass up on, I think it likes you – it’s a match made in heaven. If you don’t like some of the features or decorations, it’s easy to change those, so it would be a waste not to live here.”

“I can’t imagine a house as empty as this holding much affection, and I’m not up for a big project.” All you wanted was a small but cozy house, a simple place. You felt exhausted just thinking about the amount of work you’d need to pour into a house like this to make it feel like home.

“Well, it’s perhaps not an easy house,” Ms. Abby admitted, her cheer at this point an unshakeable force, as a sense of confidence seemed to have sprouted in her. “But that’s why when that rare fit comes by one must take the leap and hold onto it.”

You’d feel insulted by the suggestion you were a good fit for this distasteful and unpleasant house, had Ms. Abby not already shown herself as incompetent but well-meaning. You simply sighed, giving up the conversation, figuring you’d find another real estate agent when you came home.

“Well, take me to the master bedroom then.”

Ms. Abby led you through the foyer again, the bedroom apparently at the other end of the house. Your eyes were drawn to the painting once more, its eyes felt more sunken in than before, shadows forming beneath, to which you tiredly sighed. “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

The master bedroom seemed to be at the stopping point to the sprawling hallways on the right. You were just aghast at the fact you had gone through another set of sprawling hallways, you wondered who had come up with the confusing layout of the place.

Ms. Abby tried to imitate a trumpet to build up suspense but trailed off after you shot her an impatient look. After a weak cough, she simply said “Tadaah” and opened the door.

You stopped up, your right foot hanging in the air, about to cross into the room. A sense of foreboding filled you; it was a bit different from the first time, however. The prickling sensation you felt and the cloying attention, it felt smothering, less like a shove away and more like… Being held in place.

Ms. Abby waited patiently inside the room, not commenting on your hesitation, though you had been snarky and displeased the entire tour, so perhaps this just seemed like more of that. You swallowed and ignored the pressure as you put your foot down and entered the room.

The air felt different here. You had hoped the odd sensation would disappear if you just carried on, like when you entered the house, to begin with, instead, it worsened. The air clung to you, terribly heavy and sticky. It took you a moment to actually focus enough to realize Ms. Abby had spoken, so when you finally snapped back to reality, Ms. Abby was standing in the hallway.

“-tively spellbound already. I’ll give you some time to look around and get acquainted together, one-on-one.” And then she closed the door in your face. The room was, oddly empty, compared to every other room. Nothing but a big, red bed, the empty walls that you could’ve sworn were further away when you entered, and that feeling of being watched, lodging into your skin like stitching.

Nothing except an almost empty room that didn’t feel empty enough.

That’s it. Ms. Abby had officially used up all her pity points, you were leaving. You opened the door, a tad more aggressively than what was perhaps called for, but Ms. Abby was nowhere to be seen in the hallway.

For how annoyed you were with her at this point, you found that you missed her company as you walked down the hallway, nothing distracting you from the odd sounds of the house that seemed to have increased. It felt as if the floor beneath your feet moved and rumbled slightly, the velvety carpets uneven and bumpy, as if walking on something breathing, something living.

You wished that Ms. Abby had given you the floor plans, as you struggled to remember how to return to the foyer through the hallways and occasional rooms you had to cross seemed to hold no real rhythm and didn’t feel as if it obeyed any rules about directions.

At one point you could have sworn you turned back, only to be in another room than where you had emerged from originally. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you found the foyer again. Even in your rush to find the door, your eyes were drawn to the painting, though you continued to rush by it. In your haste, it almost looked as if the painting’s colors were smudged.

You attempted to open the door but found it didn’t budge. It was an odd choice to lock the door, but you were certain that was the reason, it had to be. A locked door was no issue from the inside, but even after hearing the click of the lock, the door didn’t budge when you attempted to open it.

You attempted to kick, pry, tear, and even throw your body weight at the door, but with no luck.

Settling in the foyer after your final attempt at prying the front door open, you huffed, out of breath. You laid on the stairs, trying to settle your heart and pulse, when your eyes landed on the painting again.

…You rubbed your eyes and sat up, thinking what you had seen was owed to your tiredness and the upside-down angle, but no. The painting really did look smudged. Like someone had blurred colors and borders together, the hair’s vibrant color having lost its radiance.

And the mouth, it was oddly smudged between the lips, that it almost gave the impression of a mouth being pried open.

…

No, that was silly, you were being silly. The painting was smudged out, which was already creepy enough on its own, or rather, the house was already creepy enough on its own – your mind was just working overtime and was making up new things to get scared over.

“Well brain, if you like overtime, I guess I’ll have to put you to use and think of an escape. But you don’t have a union, so it’s unpaid hours for you, I’m afraid.”

If the front door was a bust, then you’d find a window. You struggled to recall any windows on the ground floor, but surely there had to be some. Or… That’s right! The kitchen, it had a glass door. You never got around to seeing the kitchen, having mainly been shown the upstairs so far, but you recalled Ms. Abby mentioning it back when she had given her pitch for why you should show up.

You hadn’t been on the left side of the house, at least not on the ground floor, so you figured that was a good direction to begin, in your search for the kitchen. You opened the door, urgency in your steps, only to find you weren’t in an unfamiliar room.

Instead, you were back in the empty master bedroom, which somehow felt much more crammed than any of the other rooms. But… That didn’t make sense. The master bedroom was upstairs, you had fought through a confusing hallway to find the foyer, so this… this didn’t make sense at all.

The air felt oppressive in the room as if your heart would be forced to a halt from the sheer weight of it, like a physical presence. This time you were sure that the walls were closer than they had been before. A bed table had been added next to the bed, and the part of you still delusional enough to hope thought maybe it meant that Ms. Abby was still around. As if this was an elaborate prank.

You tried to swallow despite how dry your mouth felt, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. This was ridiculous. You slammed the door open again, the door shaking on its hinges. Beyond the door, it revealed a hallway, but even if the hallway was confusing, you had been through it twice by now, you could do this, you could find the kitchen or a ground-floor window.

Hurrying along the hallway, it felt as if the floor and walls shifted and moved. Were you dizzy, or was this actually happening? The restrictive air of the master bedroom followed you, as you dragged yourself through.

“Huh?” you furrowed your eyebrows when you opened one of the doors. You were sure this was the one you had gone through before, but the room behind was unfamiliar. Cold dread filled you as a horrible thought crossed your mind.

No, no, no. You ran to the next door but behind it was another unfamiliar room. Were the layout… Changing? Your hand trembled as you tried to open a third door, and you felt like crying when all it revealed was the master bedroom again.

A lamp now stood on top of the bed table. Were new things going to be added each time you returned to the room? You thought back to the cramped bedrooms Ms. Abby had so cheerfully shown off. You weren’t sure what to make of it but felt sick all the same.

“I don’t have time for this.” You had to snap yourself out of it. You could spiral and panic later, but for now, you needed to get out. So, turning on your heel, you returned to the hallway. You’d go through each door that didn’t lead to the master bedroom, hoping to somehow find your way downstairs.

You almost cheered audibly when you finally saw the staircase, rushing to it. Once again, as you passed it, your eyes were drawn to the painting.

The painting no longer looked the same as before, the person it had been long erased by smudged and changing lines. You couldn’t tell what it was changing into but felt your heart race with familiarity all the same.

The mouth was a gaping hole by now, outstretched awkwardly. You thought it might have been a smile, but it looked much more like a pained grimace to you.

You only took this as further encouragement to get out of there.

When you failed to find anything of use, you realized there was one room that you seemed to always find. So, as counterintuitive as it seemed, you walked upstairs again, and as confusing as the changing layout was, it didn’t take you long to find it.

You saw the familiar bed, the bed table, the lamp, and the newly added clock on the wall (which didn’t seem to be working) and closed your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath. And then you decisively walked in to grab the lamp, shivering a bit as you brushed against a much-too-warm wall.

If you couldn’t find the kitchen or a window on the ground floor, then fuck it, you’d find one up here. Whatever broken bones or bruises you’d get from the fall, you’d accept. Finding a window upstairs proved much more doable, as one would line the walls every now and then.

You threw the lamp against the window and braced yourself for impact.

But nothing happened.

The lamp fell to the floor with a hollow thud. When you opened your eyes, you found not a single scratch on the window. So, you tried again. And again. You tried punching the window, earning nothing but a stinging fist.

Yet you continued. At some point, it became more of a tantrum, an expression of your desperation colored in violence, than an attempt to escape. Hitting the window, kicking the wall. “Why-“ you hated this house. You hated it. Hated, hated, hated it. You just wanted to leave. Your ears rang, whether it was from your headache, or the way the house’s groans and creaks had grown in severity, you didn’t know, didn’t care, couldn’t care.

Already unsteady on your feet, your final kick caused you to lose balance entirely.

Stumbling and falling onto the floor, without realizing it, you found yourself by the stairs, and face to face with the painting. Your blood ran cold as you stared into your own lifeless eyes staring down at you from above.

Quiet had fallen over the house like a blanket, only the slow rumble throughout the house bellied any activity. In the heart of the house rested a painting, donning a toothy smile and a certain glint in their eyes.

A satisfied Ms. Abby removed the “For Sale” sign out front and drove away with a hum.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere exophilia #yandere x reader #minors dni #not proofread #yandere house #written in an hour without any planning #and it shows lol #does this count as yandere or horror? or is this just a really weird house-complaint

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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he buys you jewelry

The incessant whir of the tattoo gun was droning on as you watched Price’s freshly-shaved shoulder and back take on the sweeping artwork of a huge dragon. It had arching wings and a terrible snarl, and its long tongue breathed fire out onto his spine. You weren’t sure why he was getting a dragon, or what the symbolism was, but it was beautiful work. It fit his body perfectly.

You’d been dating the soldier for about two months now, and he was very intense. He was apparently a captain of some sort of special forces group, but he hadn’t burdened you with the details. As you spoke with him and shared more things about yourself, he would leave little breadcrumbs about himself along the way, opening up slowly like a tight bud, blooming right in front of your eyes.

His violent career was probably why he was taking this tattoo like it was a massage, chatting happily with you and his artist, Jana, totally unfazed by the repeated stabbing pain of the needles. Price was laid across the black chair, shirtless and hatless with his chest down and his back exposed to Jana. She was working away diligently, and you were in a prime location to drool over his body.

You’d been naked together already, and he was a damn fine lover, but his huge frame still made you hot, bothered, and unquenchably thirsty. You let your eyes drag over his hulking shoulders, gazing at the banded muscle in his back, his huge lats fanning out like wings, leading down to a trim but strong core. His skin was dusted with thick hair and a starfield of freckles. Old and new tattoos lay nestled around his body, telling a story you were slowly unfolding. John Price was gorgeous.

“Mm,” he groaned, “Back of the arm is a bitch.”

“You need a break, John?” Jana asked him, “‘Cause I could use a smoke.”

“You bet,” Price smiled in agreement, letting her clean him up and wrap the skin to keep it safe.

You handed him a bottle of water and grabbed an orange from your bag, following him to the back of the parlor. He dusted off a bench for you to sit with him, and he lit a tin cigar. You started to peel your orange, handing him a segment at a time, sharing it together as his smoke rolled out of his nose and mouth, spiraling up from the glowing embers. He offered it to you, and you took it.

The smoke was warm and filled your mouth, heating the sensitive skin of your cheeks. The tobacco and vanilla notes blended with the sweetness of the orange creating a pleasant taste, and it was satisfying to blow it away from you. More satisfying, however, was the indulgent expression on Price’s face when you did so, his bearded grin turning almost smug when you looked up at him to return his cigar.

“Does it hurt?” You asked him, getting a peek at his dragon. It was nearly finished.

“It hurts in a good way, ya know? Pain…” he paused for a moment, thinking, his gaze focused on something far away, “Pain requires fear. If you can move past it, you can overcome it. I just try to find something I’d rather feel than fear.”

“What do you usually feel?” You asked, biting into another juicy slice of your orange.

“Rage,” he smiled a little sadly, staring down at his hands, “I’m quick with my anger. Comes too easy for me, sometimes.”

“Do you feel rage now?” You probed further, handing him another shining lobe from the fruit.

He looked at you, brushing your hair over your ear gently,

“No, love. Not rage. Something else, though.”

For a moment, his stark blue eyes drew you in, turning into pools of endless, cloudless sky. You thought he might kiss you. You might have a chance to taste the mixture of tobacco and orange in his mouth, feel his slick tongue slip against yours. You wanted to be pressured by his jaw to open up to him, to allow him to taste whatever he wanted to taste, to take whatever he wanted to take.

“Hey, mate,” Jana poked her head around the corner, “You ready to finish up?”

“Yeah,” Price replied, his eyes not leaving yours, gripping you without using his hands.

“Looks brilliant, Jans,” Price admired his dragon in the mirror, inspecting the fine details of its black scales, “You’re the best.”

“You like it?” She smiled, admiring the work as well, pride shining on her face.

“Yeah, I’m proper chuffed. Now it’s her turn,” he nodded over to you.

“What?” You gaped, surprised at the sudden focus.

He let Jana place the protective film over his tattoo and pulled his shirt back on, commenting,

“You wanted to get some work done, yeah?”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering you’d told him how badly you wanted a tongue piercing since you were a teenager, “Not sure I have the funds, so -”

“No,” Price shook his head, “It’s on me, love. Whatever you want.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe he would just drop money on you like it was nothing. Jana’s studio was one of those invite-only, get-on-a-waiting-list type of places. Very posh. This wasn’t going to be cheap.

He nodded, fixing his shirt and sliding over to give you a chaste kiss,

“Anything for you, sweet girl,” he grinned, lowering his voice, “You gonna pierce that pretty tongue for me to play with, hm?”

You could feel your cheeks grow hot from the way his comment made you feel, bellowing the fire that was growing in your core. You turned to Jana who was cleaning up her station,

“Are you able to do a tongue piercing today?”

She smiled,

“For John’s girl? Anytime. Have a seat.”

She brought over some bars for you to choose from. You worried about how sensitive your skin was, but tried not to be picky. When you asked about hypoallergenic options, she brought out a whole tray, watching as you and Price perused the selections.

“This one?” You pointed to a polymer style. It was bright fluorescent pink, and it almost glowed in the container.

“Very safe. The PTFE will be the easiest to avoid infection,” Jana told you confidently. She really knew her craft. You watched as she prepped the needle, and you started to get nervous.

Price noticed of course, and he reached out for your hand,

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, grimacing a bit, admitting your nervousness.

The captain reminded you, squeezing your hand,

“Don’t think about the fear.”

“What should I think about instead?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and your heart froze in your chest as you listened to his words,

“I can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to make me feel when you lick my cock. I want you to rub it against my head, underneath, in that bloody spot that I like.”

“Ready?” Jana asked, interrupting your salacious thoughts.

Price backed off, smirking with a proud look on his face, knowing he had made your blood run hot, straight to your belly. You nodded, giving her your tongue. You expected to be nervous again, but you weren’t. You were, however, extremely horny.

Then, the clamp. A few seconds later, the sting. Your eyes wrenched shut, and Price squeezed your hand tighter. You opened them to look up at him, and his expression had darkened. He was staring into your mouth, looking at the piercing, obviously getting turned on by it. You watched him, sitting behind Jana, adjust himself in his pants, grasping at his growing shaft, trying to calm down.

“All done,” Jana smiled, showing you a hand mirror, “and look - ”

She shined a blacklight over it, making it glow even brighter,

“Pretty!” She exclaimed.

She explained the aftercare, giving you plenty of products, and glaring at Price, making sure he followed the hygiene steps, too.

You left the shop sore, but you were distracted by the feeling of the wetness between your legs. John hugged you tightly before opening the passenger side door for you to climb into his car,

“Poor darling, want to go for ice cream? Something to soothe that tongue?”

You nodded, looking at him expectantly, knowing he was still half-hard. His thickness made it impossible to miss.

“Yeah, John, that sounds good.”

“After a few days, she said you’d be back to fighting shape, hm? I can’t wait.”

His laugh was dark and full of promise. He leaned over the center console to kiss your neck, and you felt like you might melt through the seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and as the lights from the city glittered over his windshield, you held his hand, feeling like his precious pet, something to be cherished.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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aesthetic-bbyg · 9 months

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SMOOTH OPERATOR- TOM K.

Tom Kaulitz x chola!reader

in which you and a group of friends walk into a convince store in LA only for you to end up crushing on the German boy buying beer and candy.

Nattie speaks: I came up with this while listening to music hehehehe. I was also torn between braids or dreads but ultimately I chose braids🤞

TOM SHUFFLED ACROSS the aisle of the gas station, eyes wandering across the variety of candy and occasionally glancing down at the crumpled up paper in his hand, scribbles of what everyone wanted hardly readable. He wasn’t familiar of the area, only being in LA for a few days for the tour but he was still sent off to find all the necessity’s to survive in the hotel a little longer. His black glasses were shoved up onto his hat, braids swinging down his back with each step while also pulling his baggy pants up. His hands were full of chips, candy, cookies, now his vision was directed towards the back freezers were the beer was stored.

Off in the distance he could hear a faint buzz, a booming sound of music being heard from a mile away and it only got closer. The lyrics of a Tupac song echoed into the store, a mixture of boys and girls stumbling in loudly. The one holding stereo grinned innocently, lowering down the music as the clerk behind the counter glared at him. Two girls trailed in after, you and your best friend, Alejandra, pinkies interlocked as you whispered about some teen pregnancy that happened downtown.

“Hurry up, or I ain’t getting you nothin’.” Your brother, Manuel, demanded, heading towards the food. His hair was slicked back, far too much gel layed on his dark locks to stick it in place.

The two of you headed down to the back, immediately searching for the cold drinks, you sharp eyes looked around the glass doors of different beverages. You gasped suddenly, wrapping your fingers around the metal handle of the door and pulling it open. A fresh breeze blew onto your body, contrasting against the hot sun that beamed brightly just outside. “Damn, Jandra!” Your friend jogged by you with curious eyes. “They released a sandía version of the Arizona Teas!” A big grin filled your face, grabbing the red tin can.

“Shiit.” Alejandra smiled, “Alright, you get the sandía and I get the mango, just so we got options.” You nodded, closing the door as someone walked behind you. You looked over your shoulder instinctively, catching sight of a tall boy, adorned in baggy clothing, a bandana wrapped along his hairline and long cornrows.

Tom had also taken notice of you the moment you stepped into the store, he turned to catch a better look but was met with your own eyes. For a moment, time slowed, both of gazed kept on each other, waiting for the other to look away. In the end, his eyes were lost behind a shelf, but you could see the way his lips quirked up into a smirk before he walked into the chip aisle.

You nudged Alejandra, removing her attention from the kids juice box section. You subtly nodded over to the boy who stood a few feet away, grabbing a bag of salty snacks. “He’s cute.” You whispered, Alejandra nodded in agreement smiling over at you knowingly. “Should ask I for his number?”

“Do it.” The girl giggled, revealing her pearly teeth that were caged behind a pair of braces. But, before you could walk over he began to make his way to the front, breezing past your brother and his group of friends who were going ham on the condiments. You huffed, walking by your brother to get a better look at him but still keeping it nonchalant. Your hands were inching towards a bag of Hot Cheetos, you brother loudly chewed on his hotdog, you stared over at him with a disgusted face. Alejandra opened up a bag of hot Cheetos, filling it up with cheese from the nacho section. You joined her, doing the same till your ear picked up a brewing commotion.

“In the United States you need to be 21 to buy beer.” The old clerk lectured, angrily glaring at the boy in front of him, a ID slipped on the counter that showed all of the mysterious cute boys information.

“But I am 19,” He pointed at the date of birth stated on the card, “that’s legal everywhere else, just let me have them.” The boy argued back, a thick accent in the back of his throat while he flailed his arms angrily.

“But we’re not anywhere else, we’re in the United States, it’s the law, kid.” The braid-haired boy groaned, taking back his ID and leaving behind the pack of beers, cursing under his breath in german. At that point the commotion had caught the attention of all the group. You stared as he stomped out the store, bag full of other snacks in his hands. Your brother and his friends snickered amongst eachother, you shoved his shoulder with a stern look.

“Yo, do him a solid and get them.” You muttered, your brother stared down at you, expression laid back and careless like usual, but he raised a brow.

“You gon’ pay for it o que?” (Or what) He questioned, “Cuz, I’m already payin’ for whatever you and Jandra got there, I ain’t spending my money on nothin’ more.”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing your hands into your pocket and pulling out the last bit of cash you had on you, placing it in his open palm. He smirked smugly, walking to get a pack before making his way upfront, the things got paid for, the cashier asking the same questions of did you find everything okay? as always, though his miserable tone was pitiful. As soon as you and the group stepped out the store, your brothers friend cranked up the volume on the stereo again, the song blasting from the speaker. From a distance you could see the same boy, leaned up against the ice machine, his snacks still in hand while the other held a cigarette between his fingers. His dark glasses protecting his eyes from the lowering sun.

Alejandra smiled at you, passing the pack of cold beers before cheering you on silently. You looked back at her before jogging over to the tall boy. “Yo, got these for you.” For a moment he just stared at you confusingly, cigarette burning down as the seconds ticked by. “I saw what happened in there, but don’t worry, we always got each others backs here in LA.”

You’d begun to think that maybe he didn’t understand you, he did have a thick, foreign accent while speaking earlier which made you assume that he may have a limited English vocabulary. You weren’t sure, but it made you nervous and awkwardly shuffle from side to side. But finally, he dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his shoes and lifting his sunglasses from his enchanting irises. He grabbed the pack, a smirk on forming on his pierced lips. “Thank you, beautiful, what’s your name?”

You liked his confidence, the nickname immediately making your smile and lean your head to the side flirtatiously. “Y/n, and you?”

“Tom.” He replied swiftly, eyes examining your body. The tight white tank top that hugged your skin, the baggy Dickies that belong to your brother hung low on your waist being kept up by a black belt, your ears gleaming with large silver hoops. You had a few tattoos scattered across the exposed skin he could see, your eyebrows were thinly drawn on, lips lined with a dark shade of brown. He liked you, adored your style. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “You fine as hell too, that’s why I wanted to ask for your number.”

“Yeah?” Tom lowly questioned, his shit-eating smirk only getting bigger. “Well you’ve got it, gorgeous.” He set down the beers, reaching for his phone in his deep pockets. You exchanged numbers, conversing a little longer, pulling all the flirty comments you could think of. You got him to chuckle a few times before he revealed that he was in town with his band.

“I like your glasses.” You hands reached forward, grabbing them from his head and placing them on your face. “Damn, these nice as fuck.”

He chuckled softly, staring at you. “Keep them.” You looked over at him, lowering the glasses to make sure that he meant it and wasn’t playing with you. “Gives me a reason to see your pretty face again.”

“Damn.” You stared at him happily before a loud horn blasted from behind you, you rolled your eyes, glancing back to see your brother looking back at you from red the low-rider car seat. “I gotta go, but call me guapo.” You smirked, waving your hand before walking towards the car. Alejandra smirked as she saw your happy express when you hopped in the open-roofed car. Tom eyes never left you as the car pulled away from the gas station and sped down the road, the whole vehicle vibrating as a rap song shrieked out the speakers.

“Who was that vato you were talkin’ to?” Manuel questioned, looking back at you from the rear-view mirror with a raised brow.

“None of ya’ business, mitotero.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, head turning to stare out into the road, the harsh wind whipping through your hair. Alejandra smirked, leaning in closer to your ear.

“So, did you get it?” Your friend watched as your lips twitched, teeth coming out to bite back the grin that threatened to show. She giggled, shaking your body lightly. “Ohh, girl, you got that look of looove.”

“He fine as hell but love is a little much.” You replied, looking over at her with a mischievous smile. “He gave him his glasses, though.” You pull them from your head and passed them to her as she gawked at them.

“A la madre, this is some of that nice shit.” She examined it closely, staring at the Ray-ban logo printed on the side. Just then you felt a buzz on your thigh, you looked down at the phone as it lit up with a notification, an unknown number texted you. Immediately you opened it and smiled, Tom had texted you, a flirty greeting topped with a winky face. “I assume it your man textin’?”

“Cállate.” You turn your phone off, stuffing it in the side pocket of your pants. The text was only the first of many, Tom taking more interest in you the longer you talked, it wasn’t long till he’d taken you to his hotel room.

“Shit, fool.” You mumbled, tightening the belt around your waist as Tom chuckled, being the only audience member of your fashion show, aka you trying on his stupidly baggy clothes. “How so you wear this stuff everyday.”

He shrugged, throwing his hands up slightly. “I am a big man, I need big clothes.”

“No shit.” You scoffed, turning towards the mirror and staring at the huge shirt that looked more like a dress. “Should I wear this to the carne asada?”

“I think you should wear nothing, you’re sexier that way.” The Kaulitz boy smirked, doing that thing where he fiddled with the black piercing on his lip. You rolled your eyes and walked back into the closet, ignoring his comments as you dug through more of his clothes. In a few hours you and Tom would have to arrive at your tíos carne asada, Tom being requested to join by non other then your mother.

Tom was already dressed and splayed out on the seat, just watching as you struggled to find something, which why you ended digging through his clothes. It took an half hour before you came out satisfied, grinning widely as you put on your silver hoops.

The real problem came the moment you stepped in the backyard, your tíos home full of guest that you knew and some you didn’t. Either way a handful of them came up to with same comments how old you looked and how big you’ve gotten. Manuel came up with his little gang that constantly followed him around, it took him the longest to get sue to Tom. Though, it wasn’t long before your brother and Tom became friends.

“Wassup, ese.” Manuel he held a corona beer in his hand, using his free one to grab clap against Tom’s and bring him in for a swift chest bump. Then you ran into your mother, her expression going from a stern glare to a huge smile. Everything had went smooth so far, you were happy to be there, until a familiar voice squealed from behind you.

“Tomas! Mi Niño, mira que guapo té vez!” Your mother chanted, bringing him into a tight hug and planting her calloused hands on his cheek, he smiled shyly at her affection. The boy had grown to be a favorite, his charisma and cute looks making him popular with the tías.

“Mama, he just got here from Germany a couple days ago, está cansado, we just gonna sit and chill.” You attempted to reason with the woman, staring at your boyfriend apologetically. But you’d only made the situation worse, she gasped dramatically, looking back at the boy and ushering him to a table. She’s explained everything to all of the tías, which lead to him being taken care of for most of the night. He was constantly being checked up on, being handed plates of food, being talked to about the latest scandal of the neighborhood, it left you sitting with Alejandra, on the other side of the backyard.

“Que tienes, amiga?” The dark haired girl questioned, staring at your frowning face and squinted eyes. She could practically feel the heat of annoyance radiating of you.

“They took my fucking man!”

heheheheh, this just a short little thang I decided to write bc why not,🤷‍♀️y’all already know that Tom would have the aunties in a CHOKEHOLD!! I also had to rewrite the last half of this bc I forgot to save it so sorry if any parts of it seem rushed or short!

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #Tom Kaulitz x reader #chola #Tom Kaulitz x you #Latina #mexicana #Tom Kaulitz imagine #2000s #tom Kaulitz braids era

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samalong1 · 4 months

Note

I’m not sure if you take requests but could you do Hannibal or hannigram (your choice!) with a darling who eats a lot? Like they’ll eat four times their weight in food and still have room for dessert?

Of course I'm doing Hannibal cause I'm bad with throuples.

Hannibal x hungry reader

While his cooking is plentiful between meals he doesn't really have snacks

He never really was a snack person so he just has food for cooking

This'll probally just make you eat more at meals

At meals he loves to watch you eat how "feral" you get by his cooking

He loved to cook for you. With you he can cook more dishes and not have to worry about leftovers going bad (or even having any)

At parties and such he requests you keep it on the tamer side

He asks that you subtly get seconds when the event has died down so you won't get in caterers way and draw attention

Also not to eat like a animal

You don't need to know the difference between 20 forks but please atleast use one

While he's stricter at parties any guest who comments on your absurd eating habits. He'd happily feed them to you

I don't think he really does dessert or baking

If you behave he may get some stuff strictly for dessert

He'll occasionally feed you in sensual moments

Him gently holding your chin as he slowely shifts the fork into your mouth letting you taste the liver of the man that winked at you and dared whistle at you

He won't leave the table till your done eating as he won't want to be rude

Often he'll be sipping wine as he watches you eat your 3rd plate

He'll try and make more filling dishes

But after realizing that you just like to eat and aren't always hungry he'll change his tactic

He diesnt believe in diet culture but does know that too much of any food can have side effects and that you need variety

He'll cook "snacks"(that are just mini meals you have throughout the day) with thst in mind

Of course his mire vulgar cuts of meat are hidden well. Tucked deep into the freezer so you won't find it when searching for stray icecream

Few will/Hannigan hcs

Will reuses butter cookie tins for his fish hook and lines often leading to your betrayel

Hannibal won't buy snack foods but Will would. But he'll eat some himself if there is any after you open the container

Will probslly shops at Costco for your eating habits

Hannigram once pulled a joke where they added more and more salt to your food over time

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #yandere hannibal #hannigram #hannigram x reader #will grahm

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auras-moonstone · 5 months

Note

Hii! Could you please write an ethan fic based off the ybwm music video but y/n and ethan are childhood bestfriends and but doesnt notice her until prom? ALSO IM LISTENING TO 1989 TV RN AND ITS SOOOO GOOD

been here all along — ethan landry

word count: 3,306

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan and y/n had been best friends since they were little, but y/n, unbeknownst to ethan, has always been i love with him. it isn’t until prom night that he finds out.

warnings: none!

Y/N WAS STUDYING ON HER DESK WHEN SHE SAW HER BEST FRIEND’S SILHOUETTE THROUGH HER WINDOW. Ethan threw himself to the bed, lying on his back as he tiredly rubbed his face with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone to his ear. He felt eyes on him, so he turned around and saw the girl staring at him with a worried expression. He smiled instantly and, after hanging up the phone, he went to grab a small board and a marker.

hey, creep, he showed her the careless handwriting with a smirk.

Y/N stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own board. you okay?

i’m fine, he replied with a shrug and a forced smile.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, i know you better than that.

His shoulders slumped, can i hang out with you for a while?

always. back door is open!

Less than five minutes later Ethan entered her room and plopped down on her bed, resting his head on his hand. Y/N noticed his eyes were a bit red and had dark bags under them, and yet he continued to be he most gorgeous human she had laid her eyes on.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, resisting the need to run her fingers through his wet brown hair.

“Coach killed us at practice today. My whole body hurts.” he mumbled.

“And…” she urged him to go on, knowing that was not it.

Ethan sighed. “I hate that you know me so well.” he groaned. “I fought with Mila.”

“Again.” she added, trying to hide her bitterness.

Mila and him had been dating for a couple of months, and she had managed to turn the ray of sunshine that Ethan used to be into a person who was always tired and in a gloomy mood. She had completely brought him down.

People at school loved the couple. And, on the outside, they seemed perfect. Ethan was the captain of the hockey team and the most good-looking boy at school, and Mila was the cheer captain and most good-looking girl at school—perfect pairing, right? On paper, yes.

But Y/N had the disgrace of witnessing most of their fights and the toxicity that filled the air whenever they were together. At the beginning, they had a normal relationship but eventually, the attention got the best of Mila and she turned into a controlling, jealous girlfriend who was also obsessed with painting the perfect image.

“Yeah… this time it was about prom.” he scoffed.

“What about it?”

“She came to practice and said we had to go buy her dress and my suit. Then she wants me to take fucking dancing classes because everything needs to be perfect and I can’t mess it up with my dance moves.”

“She’s going to have to buy tons of oil bottles for that. The Tin Man from Wizards of Oz can move better than you.”

Ethan laughed and threw her a pillow. “You’re such an asshole.”

Y/N smiled like the Cheshire cat. Ethan had no idea that his smile could practically light up the whole town, and it made her furious that Mila managed to take that away. Ever since they started dating, Ethan very rarely smiled around others.

“Anyways, the thing is I refused to do that. You know how tired I am after practice, and she got pissed and wouldn’t let me leave. I ended up holding back hockey practice and coach was furious.” he explained. “Then, after practice, she called and silly me thought—nice, she is going to apologize, but no. She wanted to see if I’d changed my mind. And that made me mad, so we started fighting about her interrupting practice and how furious she would be if I were to find her during cheer practice. Then she started yelling and I just hung up because my head fucking hurts.”

Y/N watched with sad eyes. What was he doing with a girl like that? She clearly didn’t care about him. “I’m sorry about your psycho of a girlfriend. You deserve better” she said, and he gave her a small smile. “There’s Tylenol on my drawer and the bottle is filled with water.”

“Thanks. You’re the best, did you know that? Being with you is lately the only thing that makes me feel at peace.”

“I love you, Eth, and I’ll always be here.”

The boy grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly. “I love you, too.” he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Can I stay over?”

“Of course.”

Ethan fell asleep quickly, contrary to Y/N, whose thoughts kept her brain working like crazy. Ethan’s sweet words about her making him feel at peace should be heartwarming, but instead it made her heart hurt. Why couldn’t he see her the way she saw him? The way he saw Mila. Why couldn’t Ethan see that she was dying to be in Mila’s place and that he deserved so much better than her?

Ethan deserved to be with someone who treated him like he hung the moon, and instead he was settling for someone who overwhelmed him and brought him down, someone who cared more about what other people said than about his feelings and happiness. It made Y/N both sad and angry, and she prayed he would wake up and see he was worth more.

ETHAN ENTERED HIS ROOM AND DRAGGED HIS FEET TOWARDS HIS BED. He wanted to take a long nap and disconnect from the world, ignoring all the things that were overwhelming him lately. He wanted those feelings to be gone, he needed a good sleep and a good cry. And as if God had heard his prayers, the problems evaporated once his eyes caught sight of his best friend dancing around her room without a care in the world. He crossed his arms and watched with a smile, waiting for her to notice.

The girl stopped as soon as she felt eyes on her. Frowning, she quickly scribbled something on her blackboard.

i don’t do shows for free, quit looking

Laughing, he wrote back, what kind of shows do you do? i’m interested.

Y/N pretended to throw up and replied, i’m calling 911 pervert. And as he shook his head, she quickly wrote something else. you look stressed. wanna talk about it?

And as every afternoon, Ethan ended up sprawled on his best friend’s bed with her lying beside him. “First of all, I broke up with Mila.” he started, and Y/N’s heart stopped.

She tried her best not to smile at that, and managed to mutter “I’m sorry about that.”

Ethan shrugged, “It’s fine. We both know we weren’t really invested in that relationship. I’m stressed because she was furious, screaming something about ruining her chances of being prom queen and disappointing the school by our break-up.”

“And you feel bad about it.” Y/N stated, knowing him like the back of her hand.

“A little bit. I mean, I don’t get it, but prom is important to her for some reason. And now she needs to find another date.”

“That won’t be a problem, though. She’s literally the most gorgeous girl in school.”

“She’s not the most gorgeous girl in school.” he said, but quickly shook his head and moved on. “But it’s us who they want. Ethan and Mila, not Mila and some other guy.”

“Well, if it makes you feel so bad, you should go with her.” Y/N said out loud as her inner voice called her stupid in different languages.

Ethan frowned. “I don’t want to get back with her. And I thought you hated her.”

“I don’t hate her.” she argued.

“I heard you said you’d like her to recreate Regina George’s bus scene.” Ethan said, trying not to laugh at the guilty face she made.

“Look, everyone has intrusive thoughts.” she defended herself and Ethan bursted out laughing. “I’m not proud of it. But, moving on, I’m not telling you to get back with her, but just be her date to prom and then go your separate ways. We’re leaving for college soon, anyways.”

“I suppose you’re right.” he nodded. “That’s another reason why I’m stressed, college.”

“What about it?”

“I’m scared.” he confessed

“Why? Eth, you’re an stellar player. Lots of colleges already told you they’re interested.”

“I’m not scared of not getting into any college. I’m scared that we won’t end up in the same one.” he explained. And his eyes got glossy by just thinking about Y/N not being part of his every day life.

They had known each other since forever. They grew up together and it was in his plans to continue to grow alongside her. She was his person, and he knew he was her person too. She was his other half, he wasn’t complete without her. He rolled his eyes everytime he heard someone say that ‘we are our own person and it was wrong to believe someone complemented you’. He thought that was bullshit. Him and Y/N complemented each other and their lives wouldn’t be the same if they didn’t have each other. A part of them would be missing.

“I’m positive we will both end up on the same college. But even if that doesn’t happen, there’s absolutely no way that will be the end of our friendship, Eth. Come on, you really think our bond is not strong enough to handle a little distance?”

“You’re right.” he said, wiping his tears with the heel of his palm. “It still would suck not to have you there to annoy me every minute of the day.”

“Fuck you, Ethan.” she pinched his side, making him squirm. “And bold of you to assume I wouldn’t call you and text every one second.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you.” he hugged her tightly to his chest, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

“Love you, too.” she whispered. She wanted to kiss him so badly she had to hide her face on his chest to die down the temptation.

“Hey, I never asked you. Who are you going to prom with?”

“With no one.”

Ethan frowned. “I can’t have that. We are going together.”

Her heart started beating faster. “You’re going with Mila.”

“I haven’t told her we can still go together. And I’m not going to, we are going together.”

“No.” she shook her head. The inner voices screaming at her again. “It’s important to her. I really couldn’t care less about prom. Don’t worry about it.”

“All of your friends have dates, Y/N/N. I know you don’t care about prom, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a good time.” Ethan said, and she shrugged. “I don’t understand, though. I heard, unfortunately, the guys talking in the locker room. A lot of them were planning to ask you.”

“And they did, I just said I was going alone.”

“But why?”

Because I don’t want anyone but you, and I just turned your offer down. “I just don’t want to. Really, don’t worry about me. I don’t like parties anyway, so I won’t stay long. You will have to dance with me at least once, though.”

“Obviously.” he replied softly as he run his fingers through her soft hair until he fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Y/N laid wide awake, picturing that moment. Him, looking like a daydream in a suit, with his big hands around her body and her head on his hard chest, listening to the beat of his heart, which clearly won’t be beating as fast as hers. Yes, she didn’t know how she was going to survive that.

ETHAN STOOD NEXT TO MILA AS THEY TALKED WITH THEIR FRIENDS. Well, Mila did the talking and he was just standing there, looking anxiously at the entrance door, waiting for his best friend to arrive. Ethan had offered to drive her, but she instantly turned him down because there’s no way she was going to share the confined space with Mila.

“Your break-up lasted less than I expected.” one of Mila’s friend said.

Sensing Mila’s intention of not denying the statement, Ethan spoke first. “We aren’t together, we came as friends.”

“We’re always breaking up and making up, we both know you’ll take me back in no time.” Mila laughed.

“Mila.” he sighed. “We talked about this. I told you that we can still be each other’s date, but as long as it was clear that we are over for real. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Wow.” Zach, Ethan’s friend, said. His eyes were wide and his jaw was practically on the floor. And following his gaze, he found out the reason behind his reaction.

Ethan’s body stiffened and felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. Y/N walked through the gym, making her way towards her friends. No one, expect for his group, was paying attention to her. Why was no one paying attention to her?

She looked absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking would be most accurate word, because she took Ethan’s ability to breath as soon as his eyes landed on her figure. She was wearing a long, satin green dress. Her hair was up in a tidy bun, making her look elegant. Fuck, he couldn’t get his eyes off her, nor did he want to.

“Green is not her color.” Mila said between gritted teeth.

Ethan frowned, but his brown eyes were still glued to the girl across the room. “Every color is her color.”

“I’m going to ask her to dance with me.” Zach said confidently.

“Dude, get a hint. She told you she didn’t want to come with you.” another of Ethan’s friend said.

With that, Ethan finally looked away and instead glared at his friend. “You asked her?”

“Well, yeah. Can you blame me?” No, he couldn’t. But still, for some reason, it bothered him. “I can’t believe she said no.”

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious she was going to reject every offer. Well, anyone but one.” Mila said, and the boys’ curious glances landed on her. “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked.

Mila rolled her eyes. “Really? Literally everyone figured it out”

“Figure out what?” Ethan asked impatiently.

“She’s been in love with the same person for years.”

Ethan’s fists clenched and he felt like his whole body was on fire. “No way, she would’ve told me. We tell each other everything.”

Mila laughed. “It’s you, dumbass. She’s always been in love with you.”

Ethan froze and shook his head. “No. I would’ve- she should’ve… No.”

“Yes, Ethan. Ask anyone. I swear boys are so oblivious” she rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d reject her. I mean, she is out of your league and you’ve never given her any signs that you might feel the same.”

Well, in that she’s right. But only because he had never let his mind wonder about being more because he didn’t want to ruin anything. Besides, he hadn’t seen her signs either and he also started dating Mila. But now… he could see them together. Now he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t thought about it before. After all, Y/N had always been his person—the one that understood him unlike anyone else, the one that made him laugh harder than anyone else, the one he always wanted to have by his side, the one who he belong with.

“She’s not out of my league.” he said, glaring at Mila. “I’m the one out of her league, hell, I don’t think anyone is really deserving of her! You know, she was the one that suggested I still should bring you here, because it was important to you. I asked her to be my date, and she said no. Even though she probably wanted to say yes. She’s that amazing, and I never saw her. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Before anyone could say anything, Ethan let his feet guide him towards her. Y/N saw his silhouette making his way to her and her mouth broke into a smile. He did look like a daydream and the smile she loved was present on his face, shinier than ever.

"Hi, Eth." she stood up to hug him.

How could he have been so blind to notice it? The way her cheeks turned a light shade of red, her shy smile and the sparks in her eyes. Y/N was in love with him. "Hi. You look... like a daydream."

That made her blush even more. "Thank you. You look very handsome." Ethan smiled like a little kid, which made Y/N laugh. "What is going on? You're acting odd."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, you're looking different."

"Is that bad?" Ethan frowned.

"No, it's a good different. You look happy. But what is happening?" she laughed with uncertainty. Ethan shook his head, trying to wipe the smile off his face. "Come on, you're making me nervous."

my love was as cruel as the cities i lived in

"First we have to dance to your favorite song." Ethan said, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the dance floor.

Just like she had it pictured it in her mind, her best friend's arms were wrapped around her waist, her hands resting on his broad shoulders and her head lying on his chest. But, contrary to what she had thought, his heart was beating inexplicably fast.

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

"I love you, Y/N" Ethan whispered in her ear. He felt her shoulders tense and she slowly raised her head to look at him.

It wasn't like any other previous I love you's, there was something about the way he said it—so softly and vulnerable—that gave her the hope that there was another meaning, that it was another type of i love you.

"Ethan..."

been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

"I do. I really do love you. I am in love with you, and I'm really sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

and now i see daylight, i only see daylight

"For not realizing it earlier. For not seeing how you really felt."

Y/N widened her eyes. He knew. "Ethan... don't."

"Don't what?"

"You're confused. You don't love me like that, I don't want your sympathy. You just think you love me because you don't want to reject me." she said. He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "I promise you that our friendship won't change. I've always known it wasn't reciprocated, and I've come in terms with it."

Ethan just smiled. "Are you done overthinking? Because you have two options—you can keep on trying to convince yourself I don't love you and that my heart hasn't been skipping since you walked into this room," he put her hand on his heart. "or you can accept the truth—that I love you and I want you more than anything in the world—and let me kiss you while your song is still playing." he tilted his head down, nose brushing hers. "What is it, Y/N? One or two?"

"Two" she whispered.

He smirked "Good girl."

The kiss stopped time. When they finally pulled away, they stared at each other completely awestruck. Taylor Swift wasn't playing anymore, and they truly didn't have a clue how much time they had spent tasting each other. What they did know is that nothing had ever felt more right.

"Okay, enough show. Let's get out of here, I want you all to myself." he said pressing kisses to her neck.

"I want ice cream first, then we can make out."

"Whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets." with one last kiss, they walked out of the room hand in hand. “By the way, I have always thought you were the most gorgeous girl in school.”

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m-jelly · 5 months

Note

Consider:

Post-War Levi running his teashop, which happens to be across the street from a bakery with the most beautiful owner he's ever seen. And so Gabi makes it her life's mission to help the two get together.

Sweet treat across the street.

Levi x fem!reader

Canon world, post war, tea shop owning Levi, baker reader, fluff, romance, falling in love, Gabi setting things up, becoming a couple.

Gabi has noticed that since Levi fully set up his tea shop, he has been gazing out the window watching you. She wants Levi to be happy and knows he is falling in love. So, she starts setting up a few things so the two of you become a couple.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

The way you smiled was so electrifying. The curves of your body are so alluring. As the sun shone on your hair it just sparkled. Everything about you was enchanting and perfect. Your lips were so plump and kissable. No matter how hard Levi tried, he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you.

Gabi moved closer to Levi. "Levi?"

Levi dragged his eyes from you and looked at the young lady. "Mm? Something wrong?"

"Yes. I'm hungry for baked goods. Could you go buy some? I'll man the shop."

Levi's cheeks burned a deep red. "Mm...baked...goods..."

She grabbed the back of his chair and pushed. "Just a few things." She plopped a nice tin of tea on Levi's lap. "Maybe give her this." She hurried him outside. "Now go."

"Wh-what do I say?"

"Tell her she's sweet and pretty!"

He whined. "I can't say things like that."

Gabi walked around and faced Levi. "You have never liked anyone before. She's appeared out of nowhere and made you smile so much."

He smiled a little. "She's wonderful."

"You have to talk to her more. You've had lots of simple conversations with her, but you have to have more."

"I'll try my best."

She grinned. "Flirt with her. You've got this. You're the great Captain Levi! You love a girl, you go get her."

He nodded. "I will!"

She hurried back into the shop and smiled as Levi hesitated a moment before making his way over to you. "Go get her, Levi."

You walked out to a little girl, crouched down and gave her a little sweet bun with a cream filling. "It's on me. Enjoy, okay?"

She giggled. "Thank you!"

You looked up and felt your heart race. "Well, hello there Levi. How's business?"

Levi cleared his throat. "Good. H-How is it f-for you?"

"Really good." You pointed at the tea on his lap. "You want something sweet with that?"

"Is it you?" Levi went bright red at his words. "S-Sorry."

You giggled. "That was good."

"Y-Yeah?"

You hummed a laugh. "Come with me." You led the way into the shop and held the door open for him. You locked the door and turned the sign to closed. "It'll be just you and me. That okay?"

He smiled sweetly. "Y-Yes. I-I want that." He held up the tin. "F-for you!"

You took the tin and studied it. "Oh, this is amazing tea." You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Levi locked eyes with you. "I want to kiss you." He put his head in his hands. "Sorry. I'm not good with my words."

"How am I supposed to kiss you when you cover your face up?"

Levi lowered his hands. "Wh-what?"

You knelt and leaned closer. "I have liked you for a while now. I was wondering if you liked me back. Now I know." You leaned all the way and lightly kissed him. "Would you like something sweet that isn't me?"

He laughed a little. "Please."

You stood up and waved him over. "This way. I'll get some tea and something freshly baked."

Levi stopped by the table and watched you get everything together. "You're really beautiful." He winced. "Sorry. I need to do better."

You sat down and held Levi's hand. "I think you're doing wonderful. You always get my heart racing."

"That's...that's good."

You giggled when he kissed the back of your hand. "So...shall we call this our first date?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. So, umm...last time we chatted a bit...you were talking about a book you were reading. I read it and loved it."

You smiled brightly. "That's great! I knew we had a few things in common."

"We have a lot in common." He played with your hand and talked with you for hours, the two of you kept eating and drinking tea. Levi released a long sigh. "I keep getting lost in your eyes." He winced. "That was bad."

"It was cute." You leaned closer. "You're cute." You kissed him and hummed in happiness when he kissed back with a need. You smiled and lightly caressed his cheek. "Can I take you on a date tomorrow?"

Levi nodded. "I'd like that."

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silky-nereid · 14 days

Text

☘ love like a broken pot || DARK CONTENT

yandere! crime lord x second hand in charge! reader/you

tw : minor & major injuries, manipulation, degradation of self-worth, intimidation and implied murder.

Yandere! Crime Lord who found you when you were nothing; a mere husk covered in scars from a previous crime lord that had been too rough with you and he took it as a challenge to rebuild you; a better you.

Yandere! Crime lord who is not well-liked in the underworld because he’s known for taking disposable men that were traitors or new people that had either defied death under his wings because the other families would’ve killed them already.

Yandere! Crime lord who isn’t afraid of causing harm to you or to others that are teetering on the edge of betrayal because he’ll purposely step on past wounds of the crew for his benefit.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, wearing plastic gloves stained with various mixtures of colors on the once white tank top. Your stained hands applied the tin foil strips to the newly dyed pieces of hair.

“You’re my favorite,” he said. “You know this, don’t you? You can talk, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I.. I know.” Your hands finished folding the last piece of tinfoil on his hair. “But what happened to Ja—“

“He betrayed me, he betrayed us,” he explained. “After that stunt he decided to take a swim. Don’t even mention those who betrayed us.”

Yandere! Crime lord who often dyes his hair strange colors and never lets you choose the colors because he has a dartboard to help him choose his dyes but you often have to go and buy the dyes for him.

Yandere! Crime lord who often patches your wounds that you got from missions that he sends you on and enjoys it when you bring back trophies for him to show that you complete the mission.

Yandere! Crime lord who likes it more when you bring him simple trophies from the mission like a bloodied golden tooth, a switchblade that he eyed; the way it twirled in the hands of the person that didn’t deserve it, golden cufflinks that he could wear or rings that he could add to his fishbowl that he has; enjoys the weddings rings because they are pairs.

He finished washing his hands, seeing you closing the trunk. Blood remained on your cheek, turning to him. His hand pulled you by the collar of your shirt, eyes stared into your very being; he could break you if he wanted too.

“You’re getting sloppy,” he threatened. “Too sloppy to be exact, next I’ll have the cops at my door because of your sloppiness. Do I need to get Marcus to do your job?“

“I’m not getting sloppy,” you confessed. “Just have too much on my plate.”

He let go of your collar, eyeing you up and down and a simple smile carved on his lips.

Yandere! Crime lord who purposely little by little stops giving you the attention that you as you were slowly getting replaced by someone better than you but still keeps an eye on you somehow; has your schedule written somewhere.

Yandere! Crime lord who enjoys seeing you wallow in your misery and how you’re discarded ever so quickly by other caporegrimes because you were chipping away at your own patience.

Yandere! Crime lord who fails to notice the planted bugs inside of his gentleman’s lounge because he’s too busy answering the phone in the miniature barber shop.

Your eyes looked at the ruins of the gentlemen's club and the hands that caused it. You didn’t mean it, didn’t you? You turned around seeing his long shadow on the floor, covering your hunched form and flipping the golden lighter open and close; eyes that threatened to burn your skin.

“I didn’t give you an order to cause this.” He gestured to the blood trail that was smeared into the miniature barbershop. “Clean this up.”

He went from behind the bar, disappearing for a moment and pulling a first aid kit. He walked towards you, handing you the first aid and his hand caressed your lower cheek and neck. Your eyes watered, hands trembling desperately clutching his sleeves and staining the sleeves with someone’s blood; it hurts…

“Why did you betray me?” He asked.

He twisted the blade further causing a gasp escaping your lips.

“Just to think I was going to let you finally go to a normal life,” he berated. “But you couldn’t keep your lips shut, singing like a canary to the police.”

He pushed you away, watching you stumble around. He sat down next to your hunched wounded form, blood formed a small puddle around you and his hand tightly gripped your chin and turned it to face him.

“You must not be feeling the pain.” He pressed on one of the many open wounds. “There you go.”

Your blurred eyes watched them pull him away, the ringing in your ears continued. Unfamiliar warm hands that pulled you up onto emergency gurney and looking up at the dusk sky; seeing the colors fade into each other. You looked over to him while he was seemingly being handcuffed, placed into the cop car but he never broke eye contact.

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darling-i-read-it · 8 months

Text

Barbecue

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: general sexual insinuations, literally tooth aching fluff i love him so much it hurts, drinking, guys being dudes

Author’s Note: i literally swore to myself i would write this, the plotless fluff needed to happen and it needed to happen now frankly. Also I just made up a bunch of names for the shadows!

I wrote this as a technical part 2 to Shower Before Bed but it’s not necessary reading! Just like. Made sense in my head lol.

Summary: Literally just a get together with the Shadows at Phil and his ladies house

Genre: fluff

Song: Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Babe, where's the propane?!”

“Under the grill?”

“It’s not there!”

“I don’t use that grill Phil!”

You were inside the kitchen, grabbing all the side plates you bought from the store. Phil could make a mean steak but he wasn’t really sure how to do the side things. Lucky for you, buying chips and various salads was easy. You could give him hefty lifting.

He walked in through the sliding glass door.

“I feel like it’s in here,” he grumbled.

“Then you are welcome to look handsome,” you mumbled, grabbing a couple bowls. He walked around you, opening under the sink. You knew it wasn’t there but you let him look anyway.

After a very enthusiastic and slow to rise morning, Phil got right into preparing for guests. You had some people around sporadically but never that many. He had basically invited the entire squad over.

“Did you try the garage?”

“I did not.” He turned on his heels. He made it barely to the garage door down the hall when he turned back around. He walked back towards you in the kitchen. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah?”

“It’s outside. I just remembered.”

“Is it under the grill?”

“It’s not under the grill,” he said and walked back through the sliding glass door. You rolled your eyes. You waited a bit, pouring some chips into a bowl.

“Hey Phil?”

“It’s under the grill.” You nodded slowly. You figured. You grabbed the bowls and brought them outside. The sun had risen high in the sky. A perfect day. Not too hot, not too cold. You put the bowls down on the table and turned to him. He was leaning over the grill.

The shirt he was wearing was tight around his arms. Your eyes scanned down his arms, following the veins down to his hands. You walked up behind him. He stood up all the way, almost bumping into you.

“What’re you doin darlin?” he questioned. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled. Your face was scrunched up into a smile as you put your hand on top of his. You lifted his hand in front of his face.

“You have such prominent veins,” you whispered, bewildered.

“Baby,” he breathed.

You traced down his arm. You placed your chin on his shoulder and leaned your head against his. Your touch was just a mere flutter. He could barely feel it, a tickle on his skin. You smiled cheekily.

“Never noticed before,” you muttered and moved away. That was the lie to end all lies. You had noticed plenty of times. He groaned when your touch left him completely.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“If all goes well!”

There was a knock on the door, raspy and aggressive. He turned on his heels.

“I got it,” you called, going back into the house. You weaved through the house to the front door.

Wes was on the other side. A taller member of Phil’s squad, lanky and apparently one of the best sharpshooters of all time. You smiled at the sight of him holding a tin of potato salad.

“Wes!”

“Oh if it isn’t lil miss Graves!” He teased. You smiled, moving aside to help him in.

“Phil’s in the back starting to cook. You should probably go teach him how to do that.”

“I can’t get a word through to that man, you know it.” You laughed, watching him go. It felt odd to have other people in your perfectly tuned home. It wasn’t bad. Just different. You walked onto the front porch, putting up the sign you had made that read; Come around the house!

You would get tired of walking through the house and you had no interest in letting bugs in through a propped front door.

About an hour later, the backyard was packed. Music had started to play, though you weren’t sure where it was coming from. The grill was surrounded by men, there were discarded beer cans on the patio.

“I did not say that,” Robbie muttered. He was a large man with tattoos, a beard on his face.

“You did!” John called. “I thought I was gonna have to call it in but you just told the fucking mafia you were unarmed.”

“I wasn’t unarmed though,” Robbie countered.

“Yeah no, I know that.” Your laughter melded into theirs. You were sitting with a couple of the guys around an unlit bonfire. “I thought they were gonna shoot you for being dumb.”

“Wait, this was the Baikal job?” you questioned.

“I thought it was Petersberg,” Robbie mumbled, lost in thought.

“It was definitely Baikal,” John argued.

“Oh yeah, because we were by that lake. I remem...wait, isn't that classified?” Your eyes went wide at the information and you grabbed the beer can off the table. Their eyes floated to you in bewilderment.

“I coerced him,” you said, trying to salvage it. “Or something. Might’ve been pillowtalk.”

“Oh God girl,” Robbie muttered. “You’re in for it. They’re gonna kidnap you for information instead of us!”

“No ones getting kidnapped.” Phil approached behind you, his words floating above everyone else's. He sat down beside you on the porch couch. It smushed you to the side because there was barely enough room for two. You didn’t mind. He had gained a cowboy hat since you saw him last. He put his arm over the wicker back, rubbing circles into your shoulders. He loved to be touching you, especially in a place with a bunch of other guys. He had no qualms about having a woman in the Shadow Company but they tended to not wanna come to extracurricular activities. You couldn’t blame them.

“Your girl knows about Baikal,” Robbie said. A couple other guys had joined the small circle. Phil grimaced.

“She’s an honest one isn’t she?” He patted your back. You rolled your eyes. You two hardly had enough chairs for everyone. Wes sat down on the couch arm. “And I definitely remember telling her,” he lied. Everyone chuckled.

“Oh my God Wes, sit here,” you said, getting up.

“I am not about to kick a lady out of her seat,” Wes persisted. You were already standing.

“I’ve got the best seat in the house, don’t worry,” you promised. He gave you a look, hesitantly sliding into the spot you had been sitting in.

“What’s that?” he questioned. Phil was mid sentence when you sat on his lap. He let out a soft surprised sigh. There were a couple of ‘ooo’s’ from the onlookers but you had known most of them for years and couldn’t care less. Phil put an arm around you to keep you steady. You brought your legs up over the couch side to get comfortable.

“What were you saying?” you questioned, rejoining the main conversation.

“I was saying that you like to tell everyone confidential information and it’s a security risk,” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“At least she’s cute,” Robbie argued. Phil squeezed his grip on you.

“Makes everything easy,” he assured his friends. You rolled your eyes.

“Where’d you get the hat?” you asked.

“Joey brought it for me. House warming gift.”

“We’ve lived here since June.”

“And he hasn’t been over since then,” he argued. “What, does it look bad?” You shook your head, a laugh sputtering from your lips.

“You look handsome.” You grabbed the hat from his head and put it atop yours, leaning into his chest. That earned a couple more ‘ooo’s’ from your onlookers. “What, he does!” you argued.

“No, not that darlin,” Phil grumbled, though his voice was lighter than he likely intended.

“Your man there is a cowboy. Believes in all the rules,” John explained. Joey peaked his head out from behind him as you starred with wide confused eyes.

“There are rules that come with a cowboy hat?” you snorted.

“If a girl takes a hat from a cowboy and puts it on her own head then…well she has to ride the cowboy,” Joey said. That caused more commotion. Your cheeks flushed but you tried to own it as best you could. You liked being so linked to Phil that it was the source of conversations. He was rubbing your back, hand toying at the hem of your shirt.

“Oh darn,” you joked. You turned to face Phil completely. “You believe in that bullshit?”

“Yes ma’am,” he explained. “It’s strict.” Your eyes were locked in a careful intimacy. You could’ve taken him right there.

“Sounds like we have dessert plans then. I’ve gotta start kicking you boys out early!” Chuckles followed from your words.

The overlapped conversations continued. You chimed in when you could but mostly you listened. Phil held you safely in his arms, drinking his beer with his free hand. He did most of the talking, making crude jokes about battle and telling stories you only half understood. He didn’t tell you to leave even when you were sure his legs had fallen asleep underneath you.

The sun set. Someone started the bonfire. The conversation continued. Beers were passed around. Jokes were told. Your eyes started to droop. People started to leave around 11, funneling back to their own homes.

It was around then you finally stood.

“Thanks for being my chair,” you said to Phil as you slid off of him. He let out a groan, stretching out his legs.

“Don’t say I never make sacrifices for you.” You extended your hand to help him up. You pulled him aggressively and he caught himself by grabbing your hips. The reaction was natural. He was so close and he smelled like a bonfire.

“Those steaks were fire boss,” someone said. He let go of you to mingle.

“It was nice to see you again,” Robbie called towards you.

“You too. Y’all are welcome anytime. Well, not anytime. Call first.” A gentle, tired chuckle. You walked people to the front door.

Before you knew it, the house was empty again. Save for Phil, of course. When the last Shadow left you shut the door behind him with triumph, locking it and then turning on the security system beside the door.

You shuffled out back. Phil was picking up beer cans.

“I’m exhausted,” he said with a light laugh.

“Me too,” you admitted. You had gotten tired a half hour ago. “It was nice to see and meet everyone though. I’m glad you’ve got so many good guys looking after you.” You lazily approached him. He tossed the beer cans in the recycle bin and wrapped his arms around you happily. His cowboy hat had returned to his head.

“They’re good men.”

“I know,” you hummed. You cupped his face. It was torment being around him so long and not being able to kiss him silly. You took the opportunity now, slipping your lips onto his. He responded sleepily, kissing you like it was breathing.

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips.

“I love you too Phil,” you whispered. “We can clean this up tomorrow. I’ve gotta crash soon or else I’ll fall into the fire embers.” He held your hip tighter.

“Not on my watch.”

“I know. Never on your watch.” You made an effort to leave his grip but it just tightened.

“I like hanging out with them,” he started. His voice was far away. The fatigue had gotten to him which made his words loopier. Could also have been the alcohol. “But I don’t like the way some of em look at you.”

“They’re all nice to me,” you said, titling your head in confusion. You hadn’t gotten weird vibes all night.

“Sometimes I catch em staring too long. I don’t like it.” You hummed in response. “Gouge their eyes out then.”

“For you? Anything.” He kissed you again. You brushed his hair back out of his face.

“It’s bed time for you baby.” He nodded once.

“Love you.”

“Love you too. C’mon.” You looped your arm around his as you started to walk inside.

“That cowboy thing is a rule you know. They weren’t fuckin with you.”

“I’ll make it up to you when we’re not exhausted.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” His low hum sealed the deal. You took the hat off his head as you walked into the bedroom, tossing it onto the dresser. Even as you went to get clothes to sleep in, his hands remained on you. You traced his veins with your thumb. This is what being content feels like, you thought. This.

#call of duty fanfiction #Phillip graves x reader #Phillip graves x fem!reader #Phillip graves imagines #Phil graves x reader

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lavendermaelk · 1 year

Text

Henry Winter Spicy Alphabet

Henry Winter x Reader, The Secret History Warnings: What it says on the tin, Minors DNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Henry likes to take care of you but he tries his best not to show that he also needs to be taken care of. Sometimes a night with you can take a lot out of him and his leg. He makes sure you drink water and get properly cleaned up before he lets you try to take care of him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I think Henry rather likes his abs or arms. It's canon that he works out because of his injury but i wouldn't put it past him to make a full body routine and stick with it. Now he's sculpted and really just warrior-like despite the fact that his leg is still not in the best condition. I think he really likes your waist or your hands. No matter how thick or thin you are he just really likes holding onto your middle and pulling you close or watching how your fingers move on a typewriter or flip a page or how the grip onto him so desperately.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) This man's precum leaks from him like a fucking faucet and when he cums it's like a an open dam. It's thick and he floods your holes with the salty load. His diet is rather plain but with you he eats better so his load isn't battery acid but it's more of a salty tang with a slight sweetness.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He gets off on you spending his money. Yes, he hates when Bunny does it but you're his sweet darling and you just look so cute in all the things you get him to buy you. He lets you buy clothes and decorations for the apartment and little trinkets. You have your own money, of course but Henry always insists. He just loves taking care of you in every way possible.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Henry was very much a virgin until he met you. He didn't have a pressing interest in sex and romance as much as his peers did in high school. He's thought about it but he found that his studies were just more important than such things. You probably guided him through it or learned together. I feel like he was too prideful to ask someone about it or be caught looking for 'reference material' so he relied on you a bit for your first time together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Definitely mating press. He likes to see you folded in half and squirming under him and your faces will be close enough for him to give you kisses while you cry.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Henry is a more serious guy in general but if you were to crack a joke in the middle of it, he wouldn't be put off. He'd probably give a little chuckle, kiss you to shut you up and keep going.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Carpet definitely matches the drapes. Henry's always been a rather well groomed person but he also doesn't seem like the type to fully shave down there. Probably just keeps it well trimmed and clean. He definitely has a happy trail tho and he doesn't really mess with that.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Henry definitely loves to make it romantic. He's not rose petals and candles everywhere kind of romantic but he definitely sets the mood. Lots of slow and drawn out kisses, kisses all over your body and words of love and adoration in each language he speaks flowing from his lips like water from a spring.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He doesn't do it often just because he doesn't really see a reason to. He doesn't get aroused by anything that isn't you. If you weren't around, say you spend summer or winter break apart, he'd do it once in a while because it's supposed to be healthy. He really just prefers to be with you rather than think of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Creampies, overstimulation and edging are big ones for him, also a little bit of dacryphilia. I think he just likes seeing you get off on him and need him so desperately.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He loves to lay you out across his desk or keep you on his lap in your armchair. The bed is always a good default but sometimes he just likes watching you take him with Greek and Latin texts underneath you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Really, anything you do. He likes watching you get focused or heated in a debate. He finds your intellect and wit infinitely beautiful and riveting. He'll wake up next to you and watch as you whine when the morning light hits your face, how the sheets hug your body and how you turn to grasp at him and cuddle up against him. He cant help but kiss you deep and hold you close.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Anything that would hurt you is immediately off the table. He may be a bit crazy but hurting you is too far.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Absolutely loves it, bot giving and receiving. Loves being between you legs and watching you squirm, loves your taste and how you grip his hair. It's always a delight to see you down on your knees in front of him and looking up at him while you take him down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Henry prefers going slow and worshipping your body. It's easier on his leg and he gets to take his time showing you how much he loves every little bit of you. He loves to feel the warmth of your body against his and how your curves and angles fit so well against his own. He likes watching you take in his love and pleasure like it keeps you alive.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Henry has definitely warmed up the the idea of it after being with you for a while. You guys don't do it too often because he's a gentleman and you're not usually in a position where it needs to happen but you two have fucked in a bathroom at Francis' aunts while the rest of them were milling around the house or being drunk in a library

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He's not opposed to taking risks and experimenting in the bedroom, he just prefers that the two of you do as much research as you can and take things slow. Wanna do shibari? Henry's looking up the best type of ropes, ties and knots. He wants to make sure the both of you have the best experience possible when doing something for the first time.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Henry can go for two or three rounds before he tires out or his leg starts to bother him too much to keep going. If his leg bothers him before you both get off, he lets you ride him until you're both finished.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He doesn't own any for himself but he's probably bought one or two to help you get off. Like, this guy doesn't even like electric lights, I doubt he's a fan of vibrating sex toys but I feel like he'd like he's down to have a glass toy to tease you with.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Often times he gets right to business but there are some times where he feels a bit more playful or cruel where he'll sit you in his lap and rub at you until you're begging for release or he'll give you a passing grope or spank when you two are alone. Sometimes he'll kiss you with an intense passion that sweeps you off your feet and rattles you to you core before he just goes back to doing his work like nothing happened. Maybe with a little bit of a smirk.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Henry's not too loud but the groans you pull from him are just so perfect every time. Like the way he says your name or curses in that breathy voice is just chefs kiss

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) When Henry was recovering from his accident, the doctors and his parents wanted to give him a cane or an arm crutch but he refused them because of his issue with aesthetics and everything having to be perfect so he opted to just build himself stronger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) We've established that this man has sculpted himself into one worthy of a marble statue. He's definitely more well equipped than those immortalized in stone, though he is more of a grower than a shower. Hard, he's about 7 1/2 inches and a bit thick, uncut

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) It's pretty average. He could have sex every night if he wanted to but it's not a must for him. If he's stressed he'll abstain until the problem is solved and then he'll go wild with you to blow off the steam.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) It's established that Henry has insomnia like Richard does so he'd probably take a bit to fall asleep after if at all. If you fall asleep before him, he'd lay with you for a while and see if he passes out but if he's not passing out after about an hour then he get's up and reads his books or finishes whatever work he might have for the day.

#lavender writes~🖋️#henry winter #henry winter smut #henry winter x reader #the secret history #the secret history fanfiction #the secret history fanfic #dark academia #tsh #tsh fanfic #tsh drabble #henry winter drabble #henry winter headcanon #nsft alphabet #spicy alphabet #spicy fic #minor dni #minors go away

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

086: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Series

Chapter 003: We're the Freaks

Summary: You muster up some courage and devise a plan to help Eddie remember the good parts of his life, while the effects of his alternate dimension adventure begin to sink in.

Warnings: dark themes, mostly canon-compliant (Eddie lives), violence, blood, restraint, amnesia, abduction, mention of shock therapy, drug use, the beginnings of mutual pining hehehe

WC: 4.4k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 31, 1984

Eddie sees you before you can even greet him, lips turning upwards in a shy smile. It’s as though he was hoping you’d be at the party, desperate for the opportunity to talk with you. He stops counting the dollar bills clenched in his left hand and casts his eyes down for a second before looking back at you.

“Hey, uh, hi. What can I do ya for?” He bites the inside of his cheek in a silent berating. You can practically hear his brain chastising him for such an awkward opening: ‘What can I do ya for?’ Christ, am I Eddie Munson or Andy Griffith?

You hold out the twenty dollars from Carol. “Can I buy some weed?” If Worst Conversational Skills was an Olympic sport, the two of you could easily win the gold medal. Maybe they’d even create a platinum one for your extraordinary contributions.

Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you cringe at your own question, or he doesn’t care. He only nods, rifling through his tin box. “You want just the flower or pre-rolled?” When he’s met with no answer, he brings his focus to you again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” No. Carol didn’t specify what she wanted; last time, he’d only had flower. Was she happy with that? Did she say anything about wishing it was already neatly rolled into a blunt for her to smoke? Your thumbnail tucks itself between your teeth, a nervous habit. You can practically picture her disdain at your potential mistake. And Heather won’t be able to hide her disappointment; not at your wrong decision, but the way you’re squandering your chance at popularity.

“You sure?” Eddie props one elbow on the counter and gazes directly into your eyes, concern woven into his kind smile. “So you know, it’s not like cutting the wrong wire. Nothing explodes if you choose one over the other.”

Except whatever semblance of a social life you have left. “Totally fine. I’ll go with flower. Thanks.” You show him the crumpled bill again but he waves it off.

“It’s on me.” He pulls out a baggie and gives it to you, the scent of marijuana pungent even through the plastic. “This is some good shit, too. Kinda makes me mad it’ll be wasted on Carol and Tommy.” He laughs when you freeze, caught in the act. “C’mon, you think I didn’t realize that you only bought from me when you started hanging out with them?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in slightly, pleased with his discovery. “Do you even smoke?”

You shake your head shamefully, not daring to make eye contact.

“Do you want to?” This grabs your attention. “With me, not them,” he clarifies.

“I shouldn’t…my parents would kill me if I come home high,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything,” he says, latching the locks on the tin box. “Just figured we could hang out or something; y’know, maybe try and figure out how Carol manages to lodge such a huge stick up her ass.”

As if on cue, the person in question shouts your name from across the room, tone thick with impatience. Your middle finger itches to flip her off, but your cowardice wins—as usual. “I gotta get this to her,” you mumble, shoving the money back in your bag. “Thanks again.”

You begin to walk away, but his fingertips gently graze your wrist. An electric current flows between you, a spark that could burn bright if only you’d fan the flame. “Look, I’m not sure why someone as nice as you is hanging out with people like them, but if you ever need a friend—a real friend—just say the word.” The smile he offers this time is not one of amusement, but of empathy. I know what it’s like to mold myself into what people want me to be. “You like to read, right?”

His seemingly random question draws your brows skyward. “Yeah…?”

“Use that,” he juts his chin in the direction of your bag, where you’re storing Carol’s money, “to buy yourself a new book. A hardcover; none of that paperback bullshit.” He punctuates the statement with a wink. The gestures have your stomach in knots; all you want is to take his hand and talk with him for hours, leaving behind the pressures of status quo adherence, but you can’t.

“Um, hello?” Carol’s screeching voice snaps you back into reality, and you shuffle over to her without formally saying good-bye to Eddie.

You have eight months left until you graduate and can get as far away from Hawkins as you possibly can. But until that day arrives, you’re stuck playing the game.

March 31, 1986

“Eighty-six.”

The voice is a whisper, an angel beckoning him towards heaven.

“Eighty-six!” the voice hisses, urgently this time, much more Lucifer than Gabriel.

Eddie jerks awake, wincing when the handcuff clangs against the gurney’s metal bar and digs into his wrist. He’s become accustomed to it while he’s awake, but it still catches him off-guard as he rejoins the land of the living. “Jesus H. Christ, what?” he grumbles, expecting the sinister stare of a white-coated man.

Instead, he sees you in the doorway: fear seeping from every pore, but not an ounce of malice in your eyes.

“Oh, hi,” he says sleepily, ease flooding his bones when he realizes he isn’t being subjected to more unpleasant memories or poking and prodding–yet. He uses his free hand to scratch at the stubble forming along his jawline. “055, right?”

You nod, lip firmly tucked between your teeth. His grogginess means that he’s moving at a pace far too slow for your liking, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. “Yeah, mhm; that’s me.” You check over your shoulder to ensure no one’s coming, then duck into his room. “The doctors are busy with another patient,” you start, omitting that their busy-ness involves electroconvulsive therapy for “non-compliance,” “so we have a few minutes for me to pull a memory, if you want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, softly but enthusiastically. A smile tugs at his lips. “Can you do another one with Dustin? But, like, a less, um, terrible one?” He can still taste his own blood in his mouth when he thinks about it.

“I’ll do my best,” you promise, standing in front of him. He looks naked without his signature wild mane; there’s no longer anything for him to hide behind. How many times had you seen him in class, carelessly running his hands through his hair, his rings getting snagged on a rogue curl? All of it–the jewelry included–is now gone. You can’t even reassure him that it’ll grow back, because the doctors will ensure that it’s kept closely shaved.

He assumes the same position as he did the previous day, but with one major difference: he extends his hand, an unmistakable attempt to hold yours.

“Oh, um,” you stammer, simply staring at it. “We don’t…you don’t need to do that for this to work,” you supply.

Eddie withdraws, not only his hand, but his body caves in from the rejection. He gives a quick nod, shoulders gently hunched so he takes up less space.

Immediately, your heart lurches. “I mean, we can if you…if it’ll help you feel better.” If you want to is too loaded a statement to make. “I just wanted you to know that it isn’t, like, required.”

“I know.”

With those two words, you reach out and take his palm in yours, sweat-slicked despite the lab’s perpetual chill. The rough calluses on his fingertips scratch against your skin as his lifelines merge with your own.You remember comparing with Heather back in fourth grade, sitting on a bench during recess while the other kids played dodgeball or fought over the playground's sole tire swing. She swore that she could read some hidden meaning behind them. You’d always thought it was mumbo-jumbo, that there was no way she could obtain that information from etches in your hand or the direction of your fingerprint swirls.

When she’d read her own palm, how long did she say she would live? Was it eighteen years, the age she was on that fateful night?

“You okay?” Eddie’s head is cocked slightly as though examining the gears turning within your skull. “I dunno if this hurts you or anything, but we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I’ll get my memories back another way.”

You shake your head, well-aware that there aren't any other feasible options, especially for happy memories. The scientists only want to see who was with him in the Nether, and from what you’ve gleaned, no part of that experience was pleasant.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, embarrassed that he has to comfort you. “It doesn’t hurt me. You’re the one who’ll end up with a headache,” you point out.

“Fair enough.”

You swallow your nerves, heart beating in your ears. If the doctors find you in here unsupervised and without permission…your mind won’t allow you to consider the consequences. Perhaps you’ll be next in line for Ol’ Shocky. “I need you to think about your friend Dustin. Picture him and bring the image to the forefront of your mind. Try not to let your thoughts wander.”

Eddie nods, mouthing Dustin’s name over and over as you delve deep into his brain, using his sole memory—and your memory of that memory—as guidance.

After what seems like eons, you latch onto one and tug it to the surface triumphantly. You can feel blood trickling down your nose and over your lips, but you do your best to focus on the task at hand.

Hawkins High’s cafeteria is buzzing with excited conversation, the phrases “I missed you!” and “how was your summer?” and “did you hear about what happened at Starcourt?” seem to be constants. A banner hung up in the entryway reads ‘WELCOME BACK, TIGERS!’, complete with an illustration that some poor art club sap was probably volunteered to paint.

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on the tile floor, avoiding anyone and anything. He just needs to get to his table, eat lunch, and repeat every day until—

The sound of a lunch tray clattering to the ground, followed by a cacophony of malicious chuckles, grabs his attention. He watches as a group of seniors gather around a table, laughing hysterically.

“C’mon, seriously?” A kid—Dustin, you both determine from the earlier memory pull—whines at the ruined pizza slice below him.

“What’s that?” One of them sneers. “I don’t speak Mushmouth.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and flips off the older kid. “You’re lucky Steve graduated already, or he’d kick your ass!” he shouts.

The second boy hides his face as though hoping he won’t be their next victim, but his vulnerability makes him a prime target. Down, down, down falls his lunch, followed by one belonging to a scrawny kid who looks like a poster boy for The Gap.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to ignore the situation, but his conscience steers him towards the kids. “Show’s over,” he grumbles, using the strength acquired from lugging amps to break it up. He grabs one of the bullies by the collar—a jock, Andy something-or-other, according to his letterman jacket—and snarls, “get the fuck outta here before I tip off your coach to check your piss.”

Andy just nods, attempting to play it cool, but Eddie can feel him trembling under his grip. He puffs up his chest and walks away, taking his posse with him.

“Thanks,” Scrawny Kid mumbles, haphazardly brushing chocolate milk residue off his clothes. He refuses to make eye contact, thoroughly humiliated on his first day of high school.

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie says casually. “Just, uh, it might help your case if you don’t dress like some prep school wannabe.” He grins, and to his delight, the boys smile with him.

Scrawny Kid shakes his shaggy hair from his eyes. “I’m Mike, and this is Lucas,” he points to the kid who’d tried to make himself invisible, “and Dustin.” The kid branded ‘Mushmouth’ gives a small wave.

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Weird Al, huh?” he laughs, unable to hide his amusement at Dustin’s choice of t-shirt. “Christ, you three are clueless.” He cocks an inquiring eyebrow. There’s one place he can take them under his wing and keep them safe from the moldy jockstraps known as the Hawkins High basketball team.

“You little freaks ever play Dungeons and Dragons?”

The sound of approaching footsteps down the hall pulls you from his psyche, and you blink a few times to clear your vision. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You swipe at the blood under your nose, leaving a crimson stain in its wake. “I gotta go, but we can meet up again tomorrow.” You start towards the door, but his uncuffed hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, drawing you back.

“Wait…before you go.” Fear radiates from his deep brown irises. “I know you’ll have to pull more memories–bad ones–for them.” He swallows thickly, trying to stave off tears. “But if they ask you to do it while I’m sleeping, can you wake me up first?” he asks weakly.

Realization crashes over you; his first returned memory was his near death, watching his friend witness the life draining from his limp body.

“Yes.” The word is firm, confident, though you’re making a promise you’re unsure you can keep.

Eddie manages a small smile, but it emanates gratitude, and you return it. You want to stay, to search for every happy moment in his life and allow him to bask in their joy, even if just for a moment. But both of you risk serious punishment if you’re caught, and so you make your escape as inconspicuous as possible.

Eddie lays back, staring at the fluorescent lights until his eyes start to water. Thoughts swirl through his mind, a roller coaster off of its track. In addition to Dustin, there’s Mike and Lucas. And Dustin had mentioned someone named Steve, which rang the faintest of bells.

It’s a common name, he thinks. Could be anyone. Yet something deep inside nags at him, an instinct that he can’t shake.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

He twists the bed sheet below him until the thin fabric tears with an audible riiiiiip. His life has been reduced to two meager moments: saving three nerds from a jockstrap with an inflated ego, and losing in a battle against some bat-like creatures. Nothing before that, and nothing between.

The after is right now, imprisoned in this room with no evidence of a crime, let alone anything pinning him as a suspect.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

He wills himself to remember any other details. What was it that he said at the memory’s conclusion? Something about Dungeons and Dragons?

“C’mon,” Eddie mutters, eyelids shut tight in concentration. Maybe it would be better to keep them open, like he does when you’re pulling a memory. Since there’s nowhere else to look, he stares down the broken clock, all three hands frozen in place.

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve.

Dustin Lucas Mike—

The hour hand ticks forward.

Eddie shoots up, yanking the cuff along with his body. No, he must be hallucinating. When was the last time he ate something? Or perhaps the ancient batteries had a little kick left in them.

Something implores him to try it again.

His eyes lock onto the clock, channeling all of his anger and confusion to move the hand another centimeter.

There’s a gentle splintering noise, so quiet that he’d be unable to hear it if another person in the room was breathing. It gets louder until the glass frame covering the clock face shatters completely, shards clattering to the floor like rain.

No battery glitch could explain that. And it couldn’t explain his nosebleed, identical to yours when you utilized your powers.

He can’t even clean his face before dizziness overtakes him, and it all goes black.

November 9, 1984

It’s been just over a week since Tina’s Halloween party. The talk of the high school is still Steve and Nancy’s bathroom argument—and subsequent breakup—though new developments about two teachers getting frisky in the staff lounge has taken some of the attention away from them.

“Hey,” Carol says, leaning against the locker next to yours and obnoxiously popping her bubble gum, “that shit you got from The Freak was pretty good.” She raises her eyebrows in amusement and challenge. “If you can score some more, you and Heather should smoke with us.”

Translation: you’ll get more weed, and if you don’t, I’ll tell Heather that you ruined it for everyone. You can picture the look of disappointment on her face, slumped shoulders and dejected frown screaming, you let me down.

“Yeah, I’ll see if he still has any,” you mumble, grabbing your history textbook and slamming the door. You spin the lock’s dial and give it a tug to ensure it’s closed, giving Carol the chance to leave.

She doesn’t.

“Y’know, maybe it’s because Heather’s been vouching for you,” she starts, blowing another watermelon-scented bubble, “but you’re not as much of a drag as I thought you were.” It’s her version of a compliment, and you hesitantly accept it with a nod. “Anyway, eight o’clock. My place.” She flounces off, probably to find and cling to Tommy, leaving you with a churning gut.

The closest you’ve ever been to smoking weed was getting a contact high at the party. Carol and Tommy hadn’t offered to share, and you didn’t certainly volunteer yourself. If you try and end up coughing like a tuberculosis patient, you’ll never live it down. If you decline to smoke with them, you’ll all but solidify your role as the loser, straight-laced outsider and catapult yourself from their inner circle. And if you don’t show up at all? Heather will never forgive you.

You keep your textbook clutched to your chest, making a beeline for class. Goody two-shoes can’t be late. No, she’ll get there early; maybe place a shiny red apple on the teacher’s desk, and sit patiently with her hands folded. Just like she always has; just like she always will.

You’re so intensely focused that you bump into someone, your head snapping up at the sudden collision. The textbook slips from your grip and hits the ground with a thud.

“What’s the big rush?”

Eddie.

You shake your head. “Nothing. Sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going—”

“No worries,” Eddie says with a small laugh, leaning over and picking up the book. He hands it to you and smiles. “See you around?”

Now’s your chance. “Actually, I was hoping we could meet up after school,” you force out the request, not realizing the implication until he cocks his brow. “To buy some more, um…” You look away, unable to finish the sentence in fear that the wrong person will overhear.

Eddie grins, eyes alight with anticipation. “Yeah, of course,” he replies. “After school, during lunch, even right now, if you want. Got it all in here.” He gives his tin box a proud slap.

“After school is fine,” you say hurriedly. There’s that one other favor you need; it hides behind your molars and sticks to your tongue. “Would…could you maybe…show me how?” Your cheeks are so hot that your face may as well be ablaze. “Carol asked me to join them, but I’ve never…and I don’t wanna look like a total moron…” Shut up, shut up, shut up.

His face briefly shifts expressions, something resembling disappointment, though you can’t pinpoint it before his usual shy smile returns. “Sure. Meet me by the picnic benches right after last period.”

“Thanks.” You give your book a squeeze, fingernails digging into the old newspaper you’d repurposed as a book cover. Eddie gives a quick nod before disappearing into the hallway, packed with students. The whole encounter has your head spinning; you’re going to smoke pot in the woods with Eddie Munson. It’s almost distracting enough to make you late to class.

Almost. You’re not risking detention for this.

March 31, 1986

Eddie awakens to the pungent odor of vinegar and something sulphuric, rousing him back to consciousness. His eyes water even after Dr. Snell removes the bundle of smelling salts from under his nose.

“086,” the doctor says stoically, fishing a tiny key from his pocket. His unnerving stare never leaves Eddie as he unlocks the cuff and untangles the chain. “I see you’ve been busy.” He gestures towards the pile of broken glass on the floor, lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

“It was an accident,” Eddie mumbles, flexing his wrist and feeling the blood begin to circulate again.

Dr. Snell chuckles, sending a shiver shooting down Eddie’s spine. “Was it?” He leans over; Eddie hates his confidence that he won’t be attacked. All he wants is to wring the man’s neck like a washcloth, but he recalls your advice to earn their trust. He’ll have to remain calm if he ever wants to learn more about Dustin, Mike, Lucas, or Steve; if he ever wants to learn more about himself.

Eddie nods pathetically. Technically, he’d only been trying to make the hand move again, to see if it was just a fluke, but he’d ended up with a shattered clock instead. “I don’t understand how…”

“Dr. Moseley would like to conduct some tests.” Dr. Snell selects his words carefully. “See what other new skills you’ve acquired during your little adventure.”

“No…” Eddie starts, catching himself before he can protest further. He swallows, throat sore with aridness. “I mean, I don’t think I have any other, um, skills.”

The doctor sneers. “That’s for us to determine, isn’t it?” He tugs on Eddie’s arm, hoisting him from the cot and guiding him down a long, dimly-lit hallway. His torso aches with each step, but when he tries to stop and breathe, Dr. Snell continues pulling him along.

“G-Gimme a sec,” Eddie finally pleads aloud, and the doctor relents with an irritated huff. It’s not from sympathy–Eddie doubts there’s a selfless bone in the man’s ugly body–but likely because he wants to avoid a ripped stitch or another fainting spell. Whatever the reason, he’s grateful for the small break.

The room he’s brought to is white on white; there’s not a stitch of color. He’s seated at a table while doctors attach adhesive-backed electrodes to his temples and forehead, cold and slimy on his skin.

Salt-and-Pepper—Dr. Moseley, he surmises—approaches him with a thin-lipped smile. “Good afternoon, 086.” But there’s nothing good about it, and Eddie can’t even be sure it’s truly the afternoon. “I heard you had a bit of an incident today, yes?”

The doctor already knows the answer, so Eddie doesn’t bother to lie. “Yes. I, um, made the clock hand move and then broke the glass. With my mind,” he adds, as though there was any confusion about the means in which it occurred.

“Excellent.” Dr. Moseley shoos the others out of the room, so he and Eddie are alone. As soon as the door closes, he sits in a chair across from his patient, tapping a pen on a clipboard.

“I’m going to ask you to complete a series of tasks,” he tells him, somehow already marking notes. “Some tasks will be to assess your existing abilities; others will be to strengthen them.” He motions towards a large monitor. “This will detect any changes in brain wave activity with remarkable accuracy.”

In other words, don’t phone it in. You will be caught.

Dr. Moseley grabs a rubber ball off of a shelf, rolling it in between his palms before placing it in front of Eddie. “We’ll start off slow; see where you are.” He clears his throat. “Move this ball–using only your mind–as far as you can manage.”

Eddie nods, clearing every thought except for move. Move move move. He chants it silently, his lips parting but no sound coming out. Maybe if he does this, they’ll be less stringent about memory accession. Maybe you’ll get him to a point where he can begin to connect the dots and remember on his own. Maybe—

“Focus, 086.”

He makes a strangled noise in response. Move move move. Move for Dustin, for Lucas, for—

The ball rolls slightly—not even a full inch—but it’s noticeable enough to draw approval from the doctor.

“Well done, 086. And on your first try.” God, Eddie would love to smack the smirk clean off of his face. “Let’s continue with our assessment, shall we?”

There’s a memorization task next; apparently, his short-term recall is above average, Dr. Moseley reports. After this, the doctor makes drawings on a notepad that Eddie must decipher without physically looking at them. It’s by far the most difficult of the activities. He harnesses all of his energy trying to determine what is being sketched, but he comes up blank each time.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, wiping the blood from his nose. “I can’t do it. I want to,” he adds, not wanting his inability to be misconstrued as disobedience, “but I can’t.”

To his utter shock, Dr. Moseley accepts this, likely because the monitor corroborates his admission. “Not yet. But with continued training, you will.” He detaches the electrodes from Eddie’s head snd motions for him to stand with one crooked finger, and Dr. Snell re-enters at the same time.

“Wait,” Eddie chokes out as the second doctor leads him away, “I noticed something.” He takes a breath, garnering the doctors’ attention. “I was able to break the clock and move the ball when I thought about Dustin—” he stops abruptly, not wanting to give away the secret session you’d had earlier. “I think if 055 finds more memories with them—him—I’ll be able to channel that emotion into doing more tasks.”

The room falls dead silent until Dr. Moseley speaks. “I’ll consider it,” he finally says.

Not a win but not a loss, Eddie thinks as he shuffles back down the hallway, feet sticking to the tile. But I’m not going down without a fight. No way.

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #086

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scarletsknight · 2 years

Text

house call

wc: 3.6k

pairing: eddie x afab!reader

synopsis: after making a delivery to your house, your dealer decides you shouldn’t spend friday night alone

cw: 18+ mdni!!, smut, use of marijuana, pet names, brief mention of reader having glasses but not wearing them, teasing, eddie’s rings (yes it needs to be a warning), nipple play, oral sex (receiving), multiple orgasms, marking, lowkey dumbification, sex while under the influence, protected sex, eddie has a big dick but wbk, pretty much pwp

***repost cause t*mblr is anti black and shadow banned my other account 🙄

You were trying to carry all the snacks you grabbed from the kitchen to your bedroom when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Shit,” you muttered.

You know you told him to be here at 9, but you weren’t expecting him to be on time.

“Just a second!” you yelled. You ran upstairs to throw the arm full of snacks onto your bed before you went to answer the door.

You opened the door and immediately felt the fluttering in your stomach as a smile made its way to your face.

Leaning against your doorframe, wearing his signature hellfire shirt, along with his black leather jacket and ripped jeans, he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Good evening, miss. I believe you requested a house call."

"Hi, Eddie,” you smile even wider, “Thank you so much for doing this,” you step aside and let him into your house.

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for my favorite customer,” he smiled at you as he passed by. Eddie’s eyes scanned down your figure, a smirk playing on his lips, “You didn’t have to get all dolled up for me,” he said.

Forgetting what you were wearing, you look down at the old AC/DC shirt and pajama shorts you had on, along with your fuzzy socks.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Shut up."

Eddie follows you into your dining room, where you sit at the table. Placing his little black tin box on the table, Eddie sits across from you.

Your relationship with Eddie was…interesting. You know how most people at school perceive Eddie, but you don’t care. You ignore the weird looks your friends give you when they see you openly talking to him in the cafeteria or in the hallways and the things they make up about Eddie to try to get you to stay away from him.

When you found out he sells weed, he was the first you went to since he was the only person in town you trusted enough to buy from. After that, the two of you started talking more, your relationship forming into some sort of friendship. Eddie always thought you were crazy befriending him, but that’s also what he liked about you.

"So, I have two choices for you,” he took out two plastic bags, “alien thrax and peanut butter cookies."

You laugh, starting to believe that he’s just making up the names of the strains at this point.

"What’s your recommendation?” you ask, leaning closer with your elbows on the table.

“I haven’t tried the cookies yet. It’s some new shit I got from Rick, apparently from California. But this,” Eddie shakes the bag of alien thrax in his left hand, “will get you where you need to be. A personal favorite of mine.”

You carefully made your decision.

“I’m gonna trust your judgment on this one,” you pointed to his left.

“Chose wisely. I’ll even throw in a little extra.”

“You always this generous with all your customers?”

“Just the pretty ones that spend Friday nights alone.”

You smile at the compliment.

“I’d very much rather be alone than at another one of those stupid parties.” you roll your eyes at the thought.

“What if I propose something better than you just spending the rest of the night alone, getting high?”

“What?”

. . .

Soft giggles spill from your lips as you take the joint from Eddie.

“What?” he asks with a lazy smile.

“I never thought I’d be smoking in my bedroom with Eddie Munson.”

“What would the perfect posse say if they knew?” he jokes.

You shrug, “I don’t give a shit about what’d they have to say.”

A beat of silence passes between you before Eddie speaks again.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you even friends with them? I mean, I don’t know shit, but you don’t seem to like them very much.”

“I can tolerate them to a point. But I wouldn’t say they’re my friends. Jenna’s the only reason why I get invited to parties and sit with them sometimes. We’ve been best friends since third grade, and I guess she didn’t wanna just leave me behind when she joined the cheer team.”

He smiles at the thought, familiar with Jenna as the only other person from your “friend group” relatively nice to him aside from you.

“Well, you know if you ever need an escape from them or anything, you can always come find me.”

“I will.”

Eddie likes this. Being able to just sit here with you and talk. He likes that you’re comfortable enough to open up to him. He likes that you don’t care with him. He likes the habit you have of scrunching your nose when the smoke hits the back of your throat. And the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ears every time he compliments you. And the way that you stare at him when you think he doesn’t notice. And-

“Now, wait a minute,” Eddie’s eye catches something sitting on your desk, “Are those what I think they are?” he asks, moving across the room.

“No-”

“I thought you stopped wearing these after middle school,” he picked up your glasses.

Embarrassed, you jump to your feet and try to take them from him, but the height he had on you works to his advantage.

“Eddie-”

“Jesus, you’re as blind as a bat,” Eddie put them on, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Eddie!” you whined, snatching the glasses off his face. “I only wear them at home sometimes-” you pause and backtrack, “Wait, you remember me from middle school?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m pretty sure you were the only person who didn’t call me cancer kid because I-”

“Was bald!” you gasp as the memory comes back.

“Hey! I wasn’t bald. I just had a buzz cut.”

“Same thing,” you giggle, “But you’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t know when you got so close, but you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You’re so close you can tell how pink his eyes are and could smell the weed on his breath.

“Yeah,” you have no resistance to the urge to brush his hair out of his face, “s'very pretty,” you mumble.

You feel Eddie’s hands rest on your hips, the two of you still not saying anything. He just stared at you while your gaze falls to his lips. You just wanted to know what they felt like or how’d he taste against your tongue.

Eddie softly calling your name brought you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you,” he says.

“Okay.”

“Can I?”

You’re nodding, “Yes-” before you could get the word out, you’re already cupping his face.

This is not what you imagined. No—it was so much better.

His lips are soft and taste like smoke. Eddie’s hands moved to grab your waist, pulling you even closer than you already are.

You part your lips to grant your lungs the oxygen they’ve been aching for, and you moan into Eddie’s mouth as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling in his messy curls.

The back of Eddie’s legs hit your bed, and he fell onto the mattress, bringing you with him. You dropped with a bounce, your legs landing in Eddie’s lap as he found your lips again. Eddie couldn’t get enough of your lips, tasting of weed and something sweet. His hand rests on your thigh, and the cool metal of his rings bites into your skin deliciously.

You moan against his lips, thinking about the imprints his rings could decorate your skin with, marking you as his.

“You keep doing that, it’s gonna make it harder to stop.” Eddie says lowly.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?"

Eddie lowly cursed under his breath.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me, angel."

You grinned as your lips connected again. Eddie slides his hand between your legs, inching closer and closer to your core. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip when you feel his fingers come into contact with your pussy. Eddie groans from the pain as his cock twitched in his jeans. You were much more sensitive to his touch from still being high, so when he firmly pressed two fingers against your clit, close your legs around his hand with a whimper.

"So responsive, princess,” Eddie hummed.

“Eddie, please,” you whisper.

“What, baby?”

“Please touch me,” you flutter your lashes at him.

Eddie starts trailing kisses down your neck as one of his hands slips under your shirt, finding the hem of your shorts and toying with it. With his lips not occupying your mouth, moans freely tumbled out as Eddie left kisses and lovebites down your throat.

You lifted your hips from the bed when you felt Eddie beginning to tug at your shorts. Tossing them to the floor, Eddie cups your sex, humming when he feels your wetness seeping through the thin cotton.

“This for me, baby? You get all this wet just for me?” he asks with a teasing grin.

“Yes. God, Eddie, please,” you whine, feeling his finger run up your slit.

Eddie tears your underwear down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder before he coats his fingers in your slick. You widen your legs for him, and he starts stroking your clit. Eddie started to tease you, slowly circling your sensitive nub with the tip of his finger.

“You’re so wet, angel,” Eddie cooed, “I could probably just slip right in,” he watched your face melt into pleasure as he slipped a finger inside of you. Your hips rise against his hand, trying to get more than what he’s giving you.

“M-More. I need more."

Eddie laughs as he adds a second finger, "Always giving you more than I should. You’re pretty spoiled, you know."

"Can’t blame me when you’re the one always spoiling me,” you say with a smirk.

Eddie watches as the smirk gets wiped from your face, moaning when he curls his fingers against your velvety walls.

“Fuck, Eddie. That feels so good."

"Yeah? You’re taking my fingers so well, sweetheart,"

You were no longer fighting the noises that spilled out of your mouth. Eddie presses his thumb to your clit, and he feels your walls open up for his digits even more.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your head falls back, feeling the cool metal wrapped around his ring finger digging into your warm skin. The tips of his fingers reach that sweet spot inside you, hitting it each time he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

"Eddie.”

“What is it, baby?”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you pant.

“Yeah? You wanna cum all over my fingers?"

You eagerly nod your head.

"Come on, be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave of euphoria, your legs clamping shut around Eddie’s hand. Eddie held your convulsing body as he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

You pushed his hand away when he started to overstimulate you.

You buried your face into Eddie’s neck, catching your breath.

“I bet you taste as good as you look,” you heard Eddie say.

You lift your head to see him examining his fingers covered in your juices; even the ring on his finger glistened in your slick.

When Eddie brought his fingers to his lips, you felt your insides coil and pressed your legs together with a small whimper.

After licking his fingers clean, Eddie started repositioning your legs so he could settle between them.

“You gonna let me get a real taste of you, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

You nodded.

“I’m gonna need words, baby."

"Yes,” you said barely above a whisper.

The smile stretched further across Eddie’s face as he lowered himself onto his stomach and pulled you closer to his face by your thighs.

No one’s ever gone down on you. The guys you’ve hooked up with in the past were too selfish or clueless to do so. But Eddie’s clearly neither of those things. He parts your folds with his tongue, licking a fat stripe up your slit, letting your juices flow onto his tongue.

“Eddie,” you mewl.

“Yeah, baby?”

Looking down at him between your legs, you think your brain short-circuited, seeing his lips wet and swollen with pupils dilated twice their size, and you’re sure it’s not just from the thc.

“Please, don’t stop."

Eddie grins as he lowers his head again, taking your clit between his lips. Your arms could no longer support you, and you dropped your head to your pillows. Eddie pulled your legs over his shoulders, his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thighs as he buried his face into your pussy.

One of Eddie’s hands slides up your torso under your shirt, cupping your tit in his hand. Your gummy walls fluttered around Eddie’s tongue, feeling his nose nuzzling into your clit.

Your whimpers and moans mixed with the obscene sound of him fucking you with his tongue filled the room. You could feel that knot in your stomach tightening as Eddie ate you out like a starved man.

"My fucking god, Eddie, what are you doing to me,” you moan.

He laughs, the vibrations from his mouth shooting straight up your spine.

You tangle your fingers in his hair again, keeping him right where you need him, rolling your hips against his face.

“Please, Eddie,” you look down at him briefly to see him completely lost in the feeling of you on his tongue, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again,” you throw your head back.

Eddie swirls his skilled tongue around the bundle of nerves. Your back arches away from the bed, and Eddie wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you from moving as you came.

Eddie continued to lap at your folds, making sure not to miss a single drop. He came up from between your legs, half his face covered in your juices.

“That was so fucking hot,” he licked his lips and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

You grin as you grab his shirt and pull him closer, crashing your lips into his. The taste of you still staining his lips and tongue.

“Eddie.”

“Mhm?” he hums, kissing your face.

“Please fuck me,” you say against his lips.

You hear a low groan rumble in his throat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want you so fucking badly,” you tell Eddie. He sees the glimmer of mischief in your eyes when you slide your hand between your bodies and palm him over his jeans. “I know you want me too,” you smile, feeling how hard he is through his clothes.

“So fucking badly,” he says, cupping your jaw and bringing your lips to his.

You begin to tug at his shirt, silently telling him you want it off. He granted your wish, breaking from the kiss to pull the shirt over his head. You barely have time to admire the ink decorating his skin before Eddie’s claiming your lips with his again.

You tug Eddie closer by the leather belt wrapped around his waist and begin to unbuckle it before he stops you.

“Wait—shit,” he groans.

“What?”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Second draw in my nightstand,” you tell him, and he raises his eyebrows at you, “What? Better safe than sorry,” you say.

Reaching into the second drawer in your nightstand, Eddie locates the box of condoms. Eddie was less bitter when he found the box was still unopened.

You sit up on your elbows, looking at Eddie as he stands in front of you. Your eyes trail down his toned figure to the little tufts of hair on his lower stomach. You press your thighs together and bite your lip thinking about where following the happy trail would lead you.

Eddie notices you ogling him. Giving you what you want once again, Eddie pushes his jeans down his legs along with his underwear, allowing his cock to spring free of its confinements.

You feel all the air leave your lungs, and you hear Eddie laugh from the expression on your face, continuing to stroke his ego.

He really just walks around like this??

You pick up your jaw, realizing how dry your mouth is, and bring your eyes back to his face.

Eddie rolls the condom onto his shaft, stroking his length in his hand while pushing your legs apart with the other.

“What, princess? Don’t think your pretty little pussy can take me?” he challenged.

You furrow your brows, “I can.” you say, knowing damn well he could break you in half. (and you would gladly let him)

“We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink.

Lining his cock up with your entrance, Eddie takes his time. It was hard to hold himself back when he felt the way your warm wet walls opened up for him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs.

Your eyes screw shut as the painful stretch melts into pleasure. The last few inches slip in easily with how wet you are. Eddie softly grunts once he’s bottomed out.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he peppers kisses all over your face.

“You feel s-so fucking big. Feels so f-fucking full,” you stutter.

“Yeah? You like that, don’t you? Being filled up by me.”

“Eddie~” he laughs when he feels your pussy flutter around his cock.

“That’s my name, princess,” he grins, kissing you.

“Please move.”

He drew his hips back, almost pulling out of you completely, only leaving the tip in before sliding back in.

Eddie rested his forehead against yours, finding a steady rhythm to fuck you.

Eddie started trailing kisses down your neck as his hands pushed your shirt up over your chest. His mouth enclosed around your nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. He tweaked the perky bud between his fingers, making you cry out, and soothed the pain with his mouth, circling his tongue around your areola.

“Eddie, please.”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Go f-faster,”

“So demanding,” he huffed.

He grabbed your waist, bringing your hips to meet his in sharp slaps, and you held onto his shoulders, your moans deliciously filling his ears.

The sight beneath him is one Eddie wants etched into his brain forever; you shamelessly crying out for Eddie as he fucked you the way you deserve.

Your nails scratched down Eddie’s chest, leaving red streaks on his skin. He hissed from your nails digging into him, but that only seemed to fuel the fire you’ve ignited in him.

“Please-shit, don’t stop-fuck—please,” you stumble over your words as you place your hand on your headboard to prevent your head from hitting it.

“Look at you, baby. All fucked out from my cock, you can’t even form full sentences.”

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing sloppy, uncoordinated circles, “Come on, princess. Let me feel that pretty little pussy cum around my cock.”

Eddie tried his hardest not to cum before you. He wrapped his arms under your thighs, fucking you even harder that the headboard started banging against the wall.

“Yes—fuck, Eddie!”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and your limbs go numb. Your pussy had a vice grip on Eddie’s cock, making it harder for him to move.

Eddie dropped his head to your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he released his load into the condom.

For a minute, the room is only filled with your heavy breathing as the two of you come down from your highs.

Eddie’s body slumps against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. You softly run your fingers through his hair while he presses kisses to your damp skin.

He finally lifted his head, studying your face as he brushed your hair away from the features he adores so much.

“Hi,” his nose brushes yours.

“Hi,” you giggle before he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Better than. You have no idea how long and how badly I’ve wanted this—wanted you,” you say. Your words make Eddie’s soft cock twitch against your walls as he is still inside you.

“Don’t try to get me started again, princess,” he groaned, slipping out of your heat and falling down onto your bed next to you.

You rolled over onto your stomach and landed right on Eddie’s chest. You giggled as you kissed him before getting off the bed.

“Shit,” you grab onto your dresser to steady yourself on your wobbly legs.

“Need help?” Eddie asks with a laugh, watching you walk like a baby deer to your bathroom.

“Fuck off,” you say to him over your shoulder.

Slipping your shorts back on, not even bothering with your soiled underwear, you reenter your room to find Eddie with his jeans back on but still lounging on your bed shirtless.

Eddie’s eyes followed you as you walked back over to your window, picking up the joint the two of you never finished.

You strike a match, having no idea where the lighter Eddie had earlier went, and let thick clouds of smoke fill your lungs.

You lift your head to find Eddie staring at you.

“What? You promised me we were gonna smoke, and we never got to finish,” you explain as you stand between his legs.

He shrugged, “We got sidetracked. It happens,” Eddie wrapped his hand around the back of your thighs and pulled you down onto his lap.

You bring the joint to Eddie’s lips, his hands too occupied with cupping your ass, and he takes a long drag.

“You gonna let it happen again?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if you will,” Eddie says before exhaling the smoke he was holding in his lungs.

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of a distraction."

a/n: if it seems rushed it kinda was :/ i was h*rny and eddie has been plaguing my mind since i finished season 4. but thank you sm for reading <33 feedback is appreciated!!

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

Made With Love- T. Kazansky

word count: 700 genre: fluff:) requested: yes

Note: my requests for full fics are NOT open, HOWEVER, I will always accept asks/requests for blurbs, moodboards, fake social media posts, etc :) I also don't have a general tag list anymore but HIGHLY recommend you follow my library page @cortezslibrary and turn on post notifications

Iceman would never admit it out loud, and if he knew that you were telling people, he would blow a gasket. But Iceman’s third favorite thing in the world (behind you, of course, and flying) was baking. He learned to back as a young boy, sitting on the counter and watching his mom bake anything from cookies, to brownies, to pies. Whenever Ice was having a bad day, he knew that when he got home there would be some sort of baked goods on the counter with his name on it. When his mother passed, Iceman inherited all of her cookbooks, and recipe cards.

That was one of the ways you knew that Ice had a bad day at work, was when you came home to the smell of vanilla and warm bread. You sighed and kicked off your shoes, wondering what kind of baking mess you were going to be met with. Tom wasn’t always the cleanest baker, tending to throw flour and egg everywhere.

“Bad day?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. Tom looked up from the loaf of bread he was kneading and nodded, “New brownie recipe?”

“Yeah, black walnuts and white chocolate,” Ice said, pointing to the pan of brownies that sat by the window sill, “Slider asked me to try them, saying his mom used to make them like that all the time.”

“And these?” You asked, picking up the tin of cookies. You were surprised your cabinets weren’t bursting at the seams with how much tupperware was stored in them.

“Rhubarb bars!” Ice smiled, “Viper’s wife sent him with fresh rhubarb for me to use.”

You shook your head, smiling at your husband. You walked over to him, and wrapped your arms around his waist, and laid your head between his shoulder blades. Ice sighed and put his hands on yours. He looked around the kitchen that was covered in baked goods. One thing he loved about you was that you never pried. You always let him talk to you when he was ready.

“It was Mav,” Ice said. You removed your arms from around his waist as he reached for a raspberry cheesecake cookie.

“What happened?” You asked, and took a cookie from the same tin.

“He’s just out of control again. I think it’s got something to do with Bradley’s birthday coming up. . .” Ice looked down at his hands. You nodded, it was coming up on Bradley’s first birthday since Goose’s death. Carole had even asked Ice if he would make a birthday cake for the little boy. Ice quickly agreed and had gone out to buy a bunch of dinosaur themed cake toppers.

“And how do you feel?”

“I feel. . . overwhelmed. I don’t really know what to think about it. I try not to let my mind drift there but I can’t help it,” Ice had shared after Goose’s death the guilt that he felt about it. That first night you held Ice as he woke up in a cold sweat. Ice didn’t go back to bed that night, but spent nearly three days baking everything under the sun. You knew that he needed to seek help when you woke up at 3AM to the fire alarm going off, and Tom Kazansky in tears.

“Well,” You pushed off the counter and walked over to him, “You can always talk to me. As much as I love your baking,” Tom smiled, “I am always here for you to talk to.”

“I know, and I love you for it,” Ice said, and ran his hands down your sides. You smiled and leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Ice chuckled, and grabbed your face gently, bringing you in for a real kiss.

“Mm, you taste like chocolate chip cookies,” You said against his lips.

“In the green tupperware on the table.”

You smiled and pecked his lips before going over to where he said. The tupperware was still warm as you opened the top and grabbed a cookie. You moaned as you took a bite of the soft gooey cookie.

“God, I am so glad our child is going to have a parent who can bake.”

Ice chuckled, as he went back to kneading the bread he was working on earlier, “Yeah, we’re gonna win all the- wait, what did you just say?” He looked up at you, and you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Surprise?”

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ellieswrldd · 11 months

Text

with the band

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie used to be your best friend but after a falling out, you two have gone years without contact. when you find out her band is touring in your city, you do the only reasonable thing and buy a ticket.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, some swearing, making out, ellie has a tongue piercing (piercing play), weed use & smoking, oral sex (r!receiving), nipple and breast play, skimmed not proofread. (if i missed any big ones lmk...)

You were still in slight disbelief that you were here. Here, the arena filled with people all excited to watch the concert they had paid to see. You stood alone, not far from the stage, dressed nicely. You bought a ticket to this concert without thinking much of it, and now as you stood staring at the empty stage, you began to feel nervous. You were a concert person– you loved going out with friends to see your favorite artists play live. But you weren’t really standing in that arena just to see an artist play. You were there because your ex-best friend was part of the band. You were there because you wanted to catch a glimpse of her after missing her endlessly for well over a year.

Two years ago, you lay in her basement-turned-bedroom, staring up at the posters that covered her walls. She walked past the bed you lay on, pulling open the drawers of her nightstand until she found what she was looking for. Ellie, your best friend, crawled onto the bed with a tin box in her hands. Laying by your side, she pried the box open and revealed a small stash of neatly rolled joints.

“Do you want to go first?” She asked, her voice slightly lower and quieter than usual as she took a joint from the tin. You nodded, sitting up on your elbows and turning to face her. A sly smile forms on her lips as she glances down at your lips and then at the joint. Ellie places the drug between your pinkish lips, the color of your cherry gloss still coating your mouth. You pucker your lips slightly to hold the joint steady as Ellie tugs a lighter from the back pocket of her jeans. She places a hand on your chin, her fingertips coarse as they graze your soft skin. Her lighter emits a long and bright flame which she brings to meet the end of the joint.

“Inhale slowly,” Ellie’s gaze was intense, her eyes trained on the way your pretty lips moved as you inhaled. Her hand remained on your chin as she moved in, gently taking the joint from your mouth and holding it between her slim fingers.

“Let me shotgun?” She murmured, her brows slightly furrowed together as her gaze traveled across your face. You nodded quickly and moved your lips closer to Ellie’s, exhaling the smoke slowly. She pursed her lips and inhaled your smoke, her eyes closing as she did so. Ellie grinned and lay back, bringing the joint to her mouth after exhaling the smoke you had pushed into her mouth.

This wasn’t new to you– Ellie invited you to smoke every now and then on those days she was particularly stressed out and needed your comfort. As you stared at her, you failed to think of a reason for her stress.

“What’s on your mind, Els?” You asked quietly and took the drug as she passed it to you. She folded her toned arms behind her head, those muscles that your eyes always seem to wander to on display in the black muscle tee she’s sporting.

“The band and I…we got a record deal.” She said, her tone not giving away any sense of emotion.

“That’s great, Ellie! Congrats!” You exclaimed, sitting up and looking at her with a bright smile. Ellie and a few friends had started a band after you all had finished high school, playing in bars, small restaurants, or anywhere they could find a gig. It didn’t take long for them to garner support, their music was good and Ellie was one hell of a guitarist. They were bound to get signed at some point. Ellie’s face remained blank, her gaze trained on her ceiling.

“Our manager wants to move us out to the city and put together our first tour.” The girl sighed, running a hand over her face. You inhaled the weed, your face showing an expression of confusion.

“Move?” The words escaped your mouth quietly.

“Yeah. Meaning it would be difficult to see you, it’d probably be months before I see you again if we went on tour.” Ellie turned to look at you. You placed the weed between her soft lips.

“Ellie…you have to go.” You whispered. Of course, every part of you wanted to beg her to stay, to tell her to prioritize your friendship over her dream career. You wouldn’t do that though, she was too dear to you. You wanted to see her succeed and be happy.

“But–” Ellie mumbled, the joint hanging from her lips as she spoke.

“But nothing. I want you to go. Do you have any idea how important this is?” Ellie remained silent and sat upright.

“You want me to go? To just leave you here all alone?” She murmured, taking the joint from her mouth and holding it between her pointer and middle finger. Her face had moved closer to yours, one of her hands sliding onto your thigh. You couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath and bite your lip, the weed enhancing that warm feeling she caused in your stomach.

“Ellie…” You sighed, not wanting to answer her questions truthfully because you knew that she’d listen to your stupid desires, even if it meant sabotaging herself.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stay, and I’ll go.” She took the joint and pushed the burning end onto her bed frame, smothering the flame quickly. With a flick, Ellie tossed the burnt-up joint onto her nightstand and returned her focus to you. “You’re the only reason I haven’t left already,” Ellie whispered as her hand slid up your thigh boldly.

“You know I can’t answer that.” You reach out to cup her face. Your breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, as did Ellie’s. She stared at you for a moment before she pushed her lips against yours in a quick movement. You gasped against her lips, hands traveling to her shoulders and then her hair, tugging lightly as you kissed her back. Her hands roamed your body confidently, causing you to let out a breathy moan. You pushed your mouth against hers again, this time sliding your tongue along her lips.

“Fuck, I–” She pulled away, one hand running over her face, her other hand still holding onto your waist.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–” You began.

“No! No, I liked it. Don’t be sorry. It’s just that– I’m going to hurt you.” Ellie looked down at her hands, seemingly unable to make eye contact with you. Her freckled cheeks were slightly red, and her eyebrows furrowed together. “I can’t do this with you if I’m just going to leave, it’ll ruin you.” She stated, her voice stern. You stared at her and found yourself at a loss for words. You knew she was right, you would be lying if you thought any differently. You bit your lip and looked away.

“Maybe we should just stop then. We can watch a movie or something instead.” Your words came out as a mumble. You thought you must’ve sounded pathetic.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just use the bathroom, um–” Ellie turned away from you and walked off toward her bathroom without another word. It was awkward, insanely awkward. You knew she felt it, that sexual tension that hung between you two constantly. And now, when she finally acted upon it, it was at the worst time possible. You burned with embarrassment and frustration. You couldn’t believe this was happening to you.

The rest of that night was a blur, mostly made up of you and Ellie watching a few movies and pretending nothing had happened. The following day when you returned to her house to see her, she was gone. She’d packed her stuff and left without another word. She never texted or called after– Ellie went radio silent. For the next two years, that memory of her kissing you played in your mind every time you missed her and ached for her comfort.

So when you saw the social media announcement that her band was touring and playing in your city, something possessed you, and you bought a single ticket.

Soon enough, there she was. Ellie Williams, your ex-best friend, standing on stage with one of those sleek, black and white Gibson guitars slung across her chest. She looked nearly the same as you remembered, only now she seemed to be a bit more muscular and she’d changed her hair to a sleek mullet cut.

Your heart seemed to pound faster at the sight of her alone. Had it really been that long since your last encounter? You’d be lying if you were to say you hadn’t thought about this moment many, many times before.

You stood and watched the entire show in awe, your gaze trained on the same girl the entire time. The way she played was almost magical; it was mesmerizing. She strummed the strings of her guitar with her expression contorted in concentration.

It ended sooner than you expected, with fans filing out of the arena quickly once they realized it was over. You felt slightly numb, unsure how you felt after seeing her for the first time in years. You began to head to the main exit but stopped suddenly. Something overcame you, the same feeling that had possessed you when you bought your ticket for this concert. Instead of leaving the arena and heading home for the night, you turned around and walked quickly toward a door with big white letters that read “Employees only.” A security guard stood in front of the door, blocking any fans from slipping through. His eyes narrowed and searched you quizzically as you approached.

“This door is for employees only. You can’t get back there.” His arms crossed over his chest.

“I-I need to see the band. It’s an emergency.” The words spilled from your mouth without hesitation. The guard’s face remained stoic, clearly not believing a word you said.

“No can do. They’re not doing any meet and greets for now.”

“I’m begging you– I just need like five minutes with the guitarist. Tell her that—” As you begged the guard, the door behind him cracked open slightly. A young girl stuck her head out and looked between you and the guard. It took you a moment to recall her name, but you remembered her. It was Dina, Ellie’s old friend and the lead singer of her band.

You were never very close with Dina or any other members of Ellie’s band, but you were always friendly with them. Occasionally, Ellie would bring you to smoke and drink with her friends, and you always agreed. They were fun and didn’t seem to mind your presence.

Dina’s eyes flickered with remembrance as she saw you, a smile spreading on her face. She exclaimed your name and pushed past the guard to grab your forearms excitedly.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Oh my god, Ellie’s going to lose her shit!” She laughed loudly, still looking at you in surprise, as if she couldn’t believe you were standing in front of her. The mention of Ellie made your stomach turn slightly.

“C-Can I see her? It’s just been so long…” You stammered out and Dina’s friendly smile turned to a coy smirk.

“You want to see her, huh? I’ll take you to Ellie. I see what you’re getting at.” You rolled your eyes playfully but thanked her profusely as she pulled you past the guard and into the backstage area.

“I’m warning you– she’s changed. Like, a lot. I’m not sure if you’ll recognize her completely.” Dina ran a hand through her long, dark hair. Dina had changed a bit too, her hair was more of a wavy shag now, and it looked like she finally grew into her facial features. She always looked oddly mature when she was a teen.

“...Okay. I just wanted to talk to her, y’know, since it’s been so long.” Dina laughed and nodded.

“She’s going to be so shocked to see you…you know she’s missed you like crazy since she left?” Her words echoed in your head, and you blushed at the idea that your pining was mutual.

“Yeah…I have too.” The words left your mouth as a whisper, and Dina turned the corner to reveal a hallway with a couple of doors.

“These are our changing rooms, that one–” Dina pointed a burgundy painted nail toward the furthest room down the hall. “Would be hers.”

“Thank you so much, Dina. You’re a saint, I swear.” She brushes off your thanks and ushers you to Ellie’s door. As you step up and raise your hand to knock, Dina runs off and leaves you alone at the door. You take a shaky breath, hesitating and rethinking your hasty decisions. Maybe it would be better to just walk away. Ellie ghosted you for two years– there was a reason for that. You knocked three times, letting your trembling hand drop by your side. You heard some shuffling behind the door before it swung open, and you were left looking at her.

It was so quiet, the first few moments of the two of you simply staring at one another. Her beautiful mouth fell open into a small ‘O’ shape, and it was clear she was also struggling to find something to say.

“You’re here.” She stated, her face unreadable.

“Yeah.” The only word that you could manage.

Ellie glanced around the hallway behind you before grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside her dressing room. It was rather messy for a temporary space, the vanity cluttered with water bottles, gifts and flowers from fans, and small makeup items. Around the room, a few guitar cases rested on the floor, accompanied by colorful electrical cords and other equipment. Ellie shut the door behind her and looked at you in confusion.

“You’re actually here…Jesus you look…” Ellie muttered as she ran a hand through her hair and looked you over– repeatedly.

“I saw you guys were in town. I just had to come to see you. I haven’t seen you play since you left.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at Ellie with a plain gaze.

“...What did you think?” She toyed with her fingers slightly, looking down at her hands and avoiding eye contact with you. Your presence made her nervous.

“You were incredible. All of you.” You stated with a small smile. “And now I can say I don’t regret telling you to leave.” Ellie looked up at you finally, confused.

“You don’t regret it? You’re saying you’re happy I left?” She asked, seemingly a bit hurt at your words. “Because I regret it every day. I wish I would’ve never left.” Ellie stated as she pointed to herself.

Your breath hitched slightly at her candor words. “Of course I’m happy! You’re so successful now– it’s what you dreamt of as a pre-teen.” A weak smile tugged at your lips, but Ellie turned away and shook her head.

“And at what cost? I lost you, you were the most important person in my life, and I fucked it up. I shouldn’t have kissed you, and I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve left everything the way it was.”

“Don’t even fucking go there, Ellie.” You warned. The two of you had drifted closer together, and now it was you pushing a finger against her chest. “You chose to ghost me. You didn’t call or text, I tried to keep it going, and you ignored me!” Before you could stop yourself, all of those pent-up feelings and thoughts from the past two years came bubbling up to the surface. “You have no fucking idea what you put me through.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I couldn’t talk to you after that night. It was so painful. I didn’t want to talk to you because it only made it harder to stay away.” A scoff escaped you, and Ellie glared at you with those beautiful green eyes that you missed so much.

“Fine, you want me to be honest? I was in love with you. I chose to completely disappear from your life because I knew I could never be just friends with you, and I didn’t want to drag you into this mess that you call success. It hurt like hell, but I did it for you.” Ellie’s breathing was heavy, and she’d managed to back you up against the door.

You stared at her quietly for a moment, the only sounds in the room coming from your breathing. A few seconds passed, and something inside of you snapped– you practically pounced on the girl in front of you. Your hands were quick to intertwine with her short, reddish hair and pulled her lips onto yours.

Ellie didn’t hesitate for a second, her large hands immediately grabbing at your waist. Her lips crashed against yours and kissed you passionately. This kiss was much different than the one you shared years ago; it was aggressive and felt like Ellie was battling you for dominance, a fight you didn’t mind losing. She licked at your bottom lip playfully, waiting for you to allow her to slip her tongue inside your mouth. As your tongues collided, you felt something metal move with Ellie’s tongue. Your eyes widened as you realized; she had gotten her tongue pierced since you’d last seen her. Even as Ellie attacked you with her lips, her hands never failed to move boldly across your body. She slid them up and down the sides of your torso, stopping to occasionally squeeze your hips.

“Ellie–” You breathed her name once she pulled away to trail kisses down the supple skin of your neck. Her lips curled into a smile against your skin, and she ran her tongue up your neck in one long swipe. You shivered as you felt a small spot of cool metal move along your skin as she swirled her tongue.

A soft moan escaped your plump lips as Ellie bit your neck and sucked at the bite mark harshly. You wondered if she practiced this on random fans when she was horny and bored– if she used that tongue piercing to toy with other girls when she went down on them.

“What’s on your mind?” Ellie mumbled against your skin, her callused hands wandering under the hem of your shirt. You shivered slightly and bit your lip.

“J-Just thinkin’ about you doing this with other girls…” Your cheeks burned with heat as you spoke the words.

Ellie stopped and pulled away to look at you. “I haven’t. Nothing this serious, never. Only stupid drunk flings that were mistakes.” She wasn’t lying, and it was clear by the tone of her voice. Ellie had screwed around with a few girls in those two years you’d been apart, but they were always one-night stands that she used for her pleasure. Whenever she was fucking another girl, Ellie would close her eyes and pretend it was you who was in bed with her. Before her departure, Ellie had been popular amongst the ladies. She was flirty but noncommittal, and you never saw her with the same girl for more than a week.

She moved in and pressed her forehead against yours. You sighed softly and nodded, leaning upward to kiss her. Ellie hummed quietly as your lips met and slid her fingers under the bottom of your shirt again. You grinned and tugged your shirt upward, pulling it off your body with Ellie’s help.

You watched as Ellie’s fingers danced across your bare stomach and eventually reached the fabric of your bra, moving up to cup your breasts.

This was everything you dreamed of for the last two years. Even before she left, you had moments of weakness where you would briefly imagine Ellie doing dirty things to you. But you always kept those thoughts to yourself; they were confusing, and you were certain Ellie would never feel that way.

Her fingers pinched at your nipples over your bra while she bit the lobe of your ear. Ellie quickly unhooked your bra and slid it off your arms, a grin on her face when she saw your exposed breasts. Her hands slid from your torso to your ass and carefully picked you up. Your legs wrapped around her waist as she pressed you against the door.

You moaned loudly once you felt her tongue circle one of your stiff nipples, the cold metal of her piercing sending a shiver through your body. Ellie seemed to like your reaction, so she repeated the motion with her tongue and even bit gently on your breast.

“Ellie, I–” You gripped her shoulders tightly with heavy breaths.

“Yeah?” She asked, still focused on your chest.

“Don’t make me wait…” You mumbled, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the door. Ellie grinned and kissed your neck gently.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” She laughed softly and placed you back on your feet carefully before pulling you over to the vanity.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to push the clutter on the vanity to the floor to make room for you, the objects falling to the floor loudly. You snickered softly, and Ellie leaned down to attack your lips with hers yet again. Her dexterous fingers slid up your thighs, brushing up against the hem of the mini skirt you wore. Part of you wished to draw this out, to savor every moment, and to love every crevice of Ellie’s body. The other part of you, however, burned uncontrollably for her. You could now, so you’t savor this because somewhere deep inside of you, you believed this was some sort of dream. You had to enjoy what you could now, so you’d have something beautiful to remember when you woke up from this.

The sound of your skirt zipper being pulled down brought you back to the girl in front of you. You watched in awe as she slowly dragged the fabric past your thighs and off your body. Her piercing green eyes flicked upwards to meet yours as Ellie got down on her knees and moved your thighs to rest on her shoulders. Her expression was so serious and her gaze so intense that you couldn’t help but blush.

Ellie leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on your cunt, your panties still covering your slit. Her eyes remained on yours despite her lips moving perfectly along your clothed pussy. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you looked down at her. She moved to kiss up and down the sides of your thighs, a coy smile on her face as she did so. It seemed like she enjoyed teasing you– as if watching you squirm turned her on.

Her fingers curled around the waistband of your soaked panties, pulling them down your legs and allowing her complete access to your aching heat.

That first swipe of her pierced tongue against your dripping cunt shocked you. You let out a loud moan, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. Ellie dragged her tongue up your slit slowly, finding pleasure in the way you breathed heavily and gasped as she moved against you at a tantalizing pace. One of your hands eventually grasped at her hair and tugged when she rolled the small metal ball of her piercing over your swollen clit.

She had you shaking in no time, two of her slim, veiny fingers pumping in and out of you while she swirled her tongue over your most sensitive spot. Ellie looked so beautiful crouched between your thighs. Her hair was tousled, she looked at you with a half-lidded gaze, and her mouth worked on you as if she was a starving woman. She wasn’t desperate– she was downright ravenous.

“Ellie–” You gasped sharply. Her fingers hit that spot deep inside you that brought you closer to your climax.

“You have to stay quiet, beautiful, or else my bandmates will hear you.” She brushed her nose against your clit. “I want to be the only one hearing those filthy noises,” Ellie murmured. She curled her fingers inside of you as she reached that spot once again.

“M’gonna cum, Ellie…” You whimpered, grasping at her hair tightly.

“Stay quiet, and I’ll let you cum, yeah?” Ellie kissed your thigh sweetly and then bit the fleshy skin of your thigh. Her fingers moved so perfectly inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping and cursing every time she hit your spot. Your hand that covered your mouth was the only thing muffling the filthy noises escaping you.

“...Fuck–” You felt the pressure inside of your stomach finally begin to unravel, pleasure spreading throughout your body. Your legs shook and spasmed as you rode your orgasm, Ellie still curling her fingers inside of you and lapping at your pussy.

After a few moments, you let out a long sigh and looked down at Ellie. A smirk resided on her face as she stood up and sucked your juices off her fingers. A moment of silence passed before you chose to speak.

“Did you mean all of that?” You asked, your voice slightly stern and demanding. Ellie stared at you with a look that answered your question plainly without her having to say a word.

“You’re not stupid. Of course, I meant it.” She turned away and bent down to pick up the skirt and pair of panties she’d practically torn off you earlier. Ellie handed you your bottoms and leaned in to kiss your cheek sweetly.

“So what does this make me, your groupie or something?” You chuckled as you pulled your skirt over your legs.

“I feel like Groupie is too casual…how about my number one fan?” You rolled your eyes as you zipped the back of your skirt.

“Please, you wish.” You tossed your panties at her. “You can keep those. Think of them as a gift from your number one fan.” Your sarcasm drew out a laugh from Ellie.

“This is how I know I’ve made it. I have hot fans throwing their panties at me and begging me to fuck them.” She slid her arms around your waist and pulled you close to her.

“Hey, just because you made me cum doesn’t mean I completely forgive you.” You mumbled as she brushed her lips against yours.

“Come to my hotel then, hm? We can get takeout and talk about whatever you want,” Ellie kissed your jaw gently.

“Are you trying to trick me into having sex with you?” You gasped dramatically but burst into giggles as her teeth playfully sunk into the skin of your neck.

“Nah, I was thinking we could do that after you forgive me and I weasel my way back into your life.” Her lips made their way back up your neck, and she kissed your cheek again.

“Well, I won’t take much convincing…” You kissed her and sighed happily. Being in her arms felt right, even if it took so long to get to that point. Ellie’s actions were wrong– you both knew that, but you understood why she acted that way. You both were young; she was scared and made a stupid mistake. Her intentions were never to harm you, and it was clear that her love for you had not faltered once in the years you had spent apart.

“Good, because I want to make up for all the time we lost…I want to finish what I started that night that I kissed you.”

“Then finish it. What are you waiting for?”

---

a/n: first fic...kinda rushed but i enjoyed writing this! thinking abt a pt 2 🙊

#ellie williams #wlw #sapphic #ellie x fem reader #tlou 2 #the last of us 2 #tlou #the last of us part ii #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction

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