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dimepdf · 2 years

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𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓. + 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. maybe you did have a skirt kink?

pairing. football player!gojo satoru x reader

word count. 3.4K

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, football player au, mutual pinning, pwp, don't squint at the plot too hard now, idk how sports work, secret relationship, hookups, commitment issues, skirt kink, jealousy, heated kissing, teasing, touchy gojo, pussy drunk, car sex, backseat sex, oral (f), fingering, slight bratty reader, mentions of praise kink, name calling, pet names, unprotected sex(wrap before you tap), leather against skin, NOT BETA'D | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

It was the night of Gojo’s homecoming game. Football players spread across the field as the crowd roared, cheering for their respective university teams.

In all honesty, you didn’t know little to anything about football, let alone sports, flinching out every time the students that sat on the bleachers next to you would scream out in excitement or shoot up from their seats to clap and cheer.

The word "bored" doesn't accurately convey how uninterested you were and how little you knew about college football. You didn't feel much better not understanding a single event that had unfolded while sitting in the brisk fall air.

Your ears and fingers were nearly numb from the absence of sufficient warming layers on your body, and you were shivering in the denim jacket you had stolen from Gojo's closet.

As the game entered the fourth quarter, you were trembling with each gust of wind and fidgeting with the gem-layered pendant that rested against your chest.

It was obvious from the scoreboard, which you had to squint your eyes to see from the stands, that Gojo's team would win. The final score resulting, 38-14, caused students to stand up and shout in unbridled joy as the rest of the football team ran towards the field to celebrate their victory.

You still felt out of place despite being surrounded by so much school spirit, chanting, and screaming. In an effort to blend in with the crowd as much as possible, you sat as far away from the field as you could.

Watching Gojo celebrate with his teammates, shouting out in excitement and playfully tackling them into hugs, his long arms slinging over players so effortlessly, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

You found it strange to hear other women gossiping and giggling about Gojo, saying things that you would utterly concur with.

But the rumor that he was a sex god and was extremely strict about who he chose to hook up with was what you despised the most. How only the luckiest of pretty girls would he tempt back to his bedroom.

Even though you were hooking up with Gojo and had plans to return to his apartment tonight to give him some, you resisted the urge to lean in and let everyone know because you knew that doing so would make you appear crazy.

Realizing this would make you a colossal hypocrite since you were the ones who caused the difficulties in your relationship with Gojo.

Being overly protective of your own heart and unwilling to let the blue-eyed playboy with a long history of "sleeping around" have to close a relationship with you.

You managed to make out his trademark white hair, which is typically styled but was now pulled back over his eyes.

You also noticed his prince charming smile, the skin that peaked out from under his jersey, and the figure that shimmered from the sweat drips covering his entire body, making him look like a magazine model under the field lights.

His eyes scanned the sea of people until they finally met yours, sending a chill down your spine.

When he saw you so out of your element and knew you were doing it specifically for him, his Chester-like smile only got bigger.

He winked as he returned his focus to his coach, leaving you fiddling against the bitterly cold bleacher seats as well as the girls seated in front of you giggling as if the gesture was intended only for them to lean against each other in an out-of-control fit.

You reminded yourself that the only reason you had endured it all was because of the stupid deal Gojo had made with you as your hands clenched against your thighs in frustration.

“How about we make a little bet ___, if i win this game you have to give me a special reward.”

Any bet you placed with Gojo was akin to making a deal with the devil himself.

The winding game of cat and mouse with you resolutely giving in to his childish antics, beckoning your attention until you fall back into his trap with enough time to have you pressed against the cool tile of the guy's locker room way after practice hours.

Fucking you stupid until you gain back that tiny sense of commitment-related fear by ignoring him entirely the next day.

Gojo and you had been hooking up for long enough for him to understand that every time you pulled away, he would just snap back much harder despite your foul mood.

When you needed a quick reminder of how good he would make you feel or how well he already knew your body to turn you into a trembling mess unable to stand up by yourself, he was always there with open arms.

And each time you fall for it. The dick was simply too good to throw away entirely.

Because of this, you kept up your end of the bargain, swallowing the last of your pride, and stood in the parking lot's darkness to observe how the other students filed through the gates along the curb.

Around the time Gojo emerged from the locker room, the crowd had vanished quickly, going about their respective lives as they drove away in their cars.

Except for a few staff vehicles scattered about, the parking lot was deserted as you watched him approach closer while tossing his gym bag over his shoulder.

His phone initially caught his attention, not taking notice of you, swiping his thumb against the screen.

His head jerked up at the light ding notification from the phone in your pocket, and he followed it with his eyes, grinning to see you shivering by the curb for him.

He looked at your baggy outfit and lifted his brow, saying, "I'm going to be pretty disappointed if you aren't wearing my gift under that." He teases you by strolling past you with a yawn that seems uninterested, each long stride ending in the direction of his car as you simply followed his trail with a huff.

"Don't fucking worry. I've been freezing my ass the entire game wearing this stupid thing." Unbutton until the midsection of your torso to show a glimpse of the brightly colored cropped cheer uniform top you had tucked away under the fuzzy inside of his jacket, deciding there would be no harm in just giving him a peek.

The cut ending just under the curve of your ribs exposes the pudge of your stomach entirely. The uniform was very obviously designed for cookie-cutter, precisely shaped cheerleaders with pale skin, ponytails, and thin bodies who looked like they belonged in any stereotypical teen movie.

Gojo almost drooled at the material you had to squeeze yourself into, clinging to every curve and crevice of your body.

You pulled the hem down, but it still didn't cover much since you could see the skin of your torso next to the top's strangely clashing colors.

Gojo trapped you against the passenger side door, looming over you, and murmuring, "I think you've got to be the prettiest girl on the team ___." He spoke in a deep voice that made it difficult for you to look him in the eye, your thighs threatening to squeeze together as his hands crept under the jacket around your hips.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I look exactly like your basic ass type. Can you hurry and just unlock your car before someone fucking sees us already?" The Gojo was giving you all of his attention, but you were good at ignoring him to a point, pressing your palm flat against his muscular chest.

His fingers reached out to grab you by the jaw as he only leaned in closer, maintaining his smile the entire time. He did this to forcefully draw all of your attention to him.

"That’s not very school spirit of you, ___. Shouldn’t you be congratulating me on winning?" It was all an act to enrage you even more, but it was working due to the pout on his lips and the way he glared down at you.

You try to stop your heart from racing by pulling your face away from his hold and crossing your arms.

It appeared as though he had cornered you and was treating you like prey—just another bug that had gotten caught in his web. You could feel Gojo's words brushing against your skin as he hummed, "You know, you have such a fucking potty mouth," sending a shiver up your spine.

His long fingers caressed your hips as he purposefully wedged his leg between yours. His light touch now extended under the jacket with both of his hands.

He pressed against you until you could feel the print of his erection against your stomach as your back rested against the car window. "I’ll forgive you if you show me the skirt."

"Gojo." In a plea, you breathe out his name.

The last thing you wanted to do was to be caught flaunting some poor girl's stolen uniform when you were already feeling self-conscious about only showing the top.

"___." He rolled his eyes and moved away, saying, "That's too bad, I only give rides to pretty girls in skirts." In a bored tone, he told you. His normally innocent smile had been replaced by an uninterested glare as he cocked his head.

He was practically swinging bait in your face, and you knew that the only thing he seemed to enjoy more than playing football was teasing you.

As a result, you became the first to play along with his scheme.

As you reached down and untied your sweatpants, shimming to pull them down to your thighs, a matching skirt set was revealed from beneath the gray cotton, his eyes never leaving yours until you broke eye contact first.

He breathed out at the view of your thighs crammed into the snug cuffed ends of the skirt's safety shorts watching as his eyes take in the sight of your body.

You weren't sure why you were acting so shocked when Gojo chuckled and reached out to pinch the plush of your legs, but he quickly pulled back before he could become overly excited by touching you.

"Okay, you've persuaded both my dick and me. If you don't want me to fuck you in the open parking lot, get in the car, slut."

The journey to wherever he was taking you seemed a lot worse to you. Your exposed thigh is being squeezed by his hand, which seems to be rising steadily.

If you knew he was going to tease you for the next twenty minutes, you would much rather have him fuck you in the parking lot. Not enough of the music blaring from the radio could help you calm down as you writhed at the growing need from beneath your skirt.

Even with the sun gone and the roads seeming like a maze at night, you could tell from the turns and exits which spot he had turned into.

His fingers danced across the precarious line of fingering you in his car or not while his eyes were fixed firmly on the road.

You even spread your legs wide to get the perfect angle for his hand, but he moved quickly to step back just far enough to deny you what you were pleading for.

What a fucking tease.

"You're so fucking insufferable," you grumbled, causing him to laugh heartily.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," he quips. "You act like you're not eating this shit up."

"You think I like being dressed like this?"

"You agreed to it," he reminded you, his hand laying a teasing smack against your thigh. "Just admit that you fantasize about being folded like some cheap slut in a porno. I won't kink shame, angel."

"Don't call me that," you whined. "I’m not some fucking slut."

“Well yeah duh,” he grinned side eyeing you only for a second. “But you’ll sound like one when I'm done with you.”

He backed into a more private space further into the deserted parking lot, engaged the car in park, and turned the radio volume down until it was barely audible over the sound of the late night.

He slapped his hands against the steering wheel, leaned back against his seat, let out an exasperated sigh, and then grinned impishly in your direction.

“The stars look just as pretty as you, ___.”

"Oh yeah, and how many girls do you usually say that to?" Rolling your eyes, you tried to contain the warmth that accompanied the sincere compliment.

"Only to the cheap sluts that I really want to fuck." He responded dryly, watching with a gulp as his eyes glanced at your lips. "You’re driving me crazy, baby." He finally snapped, leaning over the dash to kiss you, only being able to hold the whole arrogant persona for so long before he needed you as much as you needed him.

You couldn't claim to have much prior experience having sex in a vehicle.

His room or yours would typically be where the two of you would spend time alone, but since your roommates were home and Gojo's fraternity was probably packed with people throwing a party in his honor, you had to make do with getting down in his car.

Holding yourself in place and pushing yourself closer so that you wouldn't completely topple forward, all you had to do was twist and strain.

You could just tell from the low grunts and small sighs that Gojo was getting a bit frustrated, his long limbs cramped into the small space. "Can’t you just sneak me into your place?"

"Oh yeah, you could just introduce yourself to my roommates while your balls are deep inside of me, maybe even shake my parent's hand and tell them about your skirt kink too."

"God, you're such a fucking bitch." Gojo sighed, nipping at your bottom lip, "you're lucky I'm into that." Gojo sighed, licking his lips before opening his door.

After he slammed the door shut, the overhead light flickered, and you puzzledly watched as he opened the back door rather than crawling into his seat before turning to you with an expectant look that beckoned you to join him.

You managed to crawl through the seats with a bit of a struggle, settling yourself against the other door as Gojo guided your legs apart to make room to slot himself in. "Best gift ever," he muttered as you changed into your full-fledged outfit, shedding the jacket and sweats that had covered you to the ground.

The moment that Gojo had ducked under the hem of your skirt, your fingers tangled a handful of his hair in a fist, shivering at his eagerness, feeling his teeth tease against the skin of your thigh. Finally, paying much attention to the eagerness between them, his fingers probed and nudged against your clit until he had hooked your underwear to the side.

Your body responded before you could even process what was happening. His tongue teased at your clit, his fingers dipped between your folds, and the sound of your breathy groans spurred him on to move swiftly.

With your needy whimpers, fingers clamping down firmly in the nest of his hair, grinding against his fingers, and the sensation of your legs twitching and quivering, just the taste of you on his tongue was like unwrapping another reward.

However, you weren't a fool.

You were aware of how pussy drunk Gojo became each time he would eat you out, usually wanting to have you stumble out his name with tears threatening to prickle your eyes. When it came to going down on you, he was the type to lick the plate clean.

This is why you were taken aback when Gojo suddenly stopped and raised the material on your skirt to look you in the eyes.

He continued to work his fingers in and out of you as if he weren't attempting to carry on a conversation while teasing, "Be honest, you so have a skirt kink."

As you attempted to comprehend the question, let alone provide a sarcastic response, your lashes fluttered and your head spun.

Any train of thought that tried to escape your mind as Gojo's fingers worked their magic "I-i'm." is the only thing you could stutter out.

"I-I, you what baby?" His laughter made you squint your eyes shut, and you covered your face with your hands as he mocked you in a flat tone.

Gojo leaned up and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling your hands away from your face to give you a more delicate kiss on the lips, muttering mostly to himself, "You're so cute."

Leaning into his touch, you suddenly felt his fingers pull away from you, making a humiliating wet sound that you ignored since Gojo had already diverted his attention to another part of your body. He was fondling your breast through the crop top as his fingers explored.

You could tell from the way Gojo smiled against your mouth that he was biting back on making some stupid joke the moment that his fingers made out the bud of your nipples.

As he pulls away, his other hand switches back to tracing the plush of your thighs before quickly removing your skirt.

He peeled it off of you without a bat of the eye, not wanting to struggle with the safety shorts that were sewn in under it like he had to do when he had blindly gone down on you.

Bumping his elbow and leg against leather seats as he sat up trying to strip his own shirt, a loud thump jortles you from your daze. Only then had you realized Gojo’s hiss of pain.

His normally pale face was now flushed pink, and he scrunched his brow, rubbing the back of his head. "This is the thanks I get for having such a big dick.”

He leaned back down, perfectly squeezing himself between your spread legs, and asked, "Wanna kiss it better?" while getting dangerously close to your lips. He didn't wait for a response simply because he could tell you were only glancing at his lips.

His head dove to hide in the crook of your neck with a grunt, as your fingers searched for the bulge that reacted with a twitch after you had grabbed him by the elastic of his shorts.

You didn't hesitate, never did, knowing what you both wanted as his fingers spread your pussy apart.

You couldn't help but feel intoxicated while listening to his shift in breathing as your hand guided his length to press against exactly where you wanted it.

Sharing a relieved gasp as he shifted his hips against yours, the feeling of him burying himself inside you completely, Gojo was too lost in the bliss to joke about how good it felt to have you clench around him.

Your hips move in unison, seemingly motivated by a primal urge to pursue the intense arousing sensation that had been building up.

Gojo, rubbing his thumb in circles against your clit while whimpering into your neck about how gorgeous you were.

As the intensity of his thrusts increased, steam built up on the car's windows, and the air became humid as the car's slight creak gave way to the weight shifting inside.

Few actual words were spoken because the two of you were too preoccupied with making each other feel good to even form sentences that had any proper finishes.

Gojo readjusted himself, finding the spot that caused your muscles to tighten and spasm. Hooking your leg over his shoulder, nearly causing it to hit the ceiling as he grunted at you while clenching around you continuing his pace until your orgasm unfurled.

Despite being athletic, Gojo went completely slack, falling with his entire weight against your chest, panting as if he were in practice running a mile.

He found calm in the thump of his heartbeat against your chest. "Hey, so about the roommate thing," Gojo spoke after he had eventually caught his breath, cuddling against your chest as his fingers played with your pendant. "I wouldn't mind meeting them, or your parents, or telling anyone honestly; I just would prefer to do it fully clothed if that's okay."

You blinked. "You mean you want this to be like an official thing?" you asked, finally working up enough energy to sit up against the side of the door.

Wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your sweaty bare skin dragging against the leather material of the seats. "Like this, you no longer refer to me as a slut but as your girlfriend instead."

"Well, I still want you to be my slut, but calling you girlfriend doesn't sound too bad either, does it?" Gojo shrugged.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujust kaisen x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #jjk

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dynsdiary · 3 months

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━━ my pov of ellie

a/n : hii this would be the way i see ellie or what i think she would be (obv hcs i think). so if you don't agree with me it is totally okay! just dont give hate comments and stuff like that.

cr : @idontgetanysleep & pinterest for all the pics

up next ⟶ part ii

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

what i think she would wear

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ i feel like she would own a lot of flannels, sweaters and baggy shirt.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ also, she would definitely like wearing pants that don't fit her perfectly so she can show off her boxer or boyshort thingy (and she makes them look good too!) ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ I JUST KNOW SHE HAS THE KEY HOLDER THING CAUSE SHE DOESN'T CARRY ANY BAG OR PURSE WITH HER (she only uses them if needed lol). ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ sometimes, she would love to just wear her hoodie/sweater instead of making an effort to dress up. i mean she would look good either way ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ she actually has lots types of shoes but will always wear converse bc "it's comfy" (her words). ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ i also like to think that she would love / enjoy overall especially if it's short and wear it in summer cause SUMMER IS HOT!!! ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ oh pretty sure she own caps and denim jackets in different colors ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ damn leather jacket (esp black one) would look so good on her

what dates you guys are going

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ in my head, ellie doesn't like or drink coffee but you two would go for cafe hunting or food hunting together, depending on what mood you two feel that day!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ellie is definitely a soda or juice kinda girl

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ baking or cooking together

sometimes, she's begging you to bake/cook with her dinosaur-themed food saying it won't fuck up but well… it does taste good but the presentation looks off… you guys still eat it though.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ughh, listening to music together shared WITH ONE EARPHONE !!!!!!!!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ okay, imagine running away from work or school for a moment and you two decided to go to the lake or beach just to wind down and have quality time together and catch up with each other's week.

also, imagine looking for rocks that look like both you and ellie's eyes colors !!!!!!! SO CUTE AND YOU DID THE TIKTOK TREND and it blew up !!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ thrifting shopping, both of you help each other look for gems.

"how does this look on me?" "like i want to go down on you" "ellie!" you exclaimed clearly flustered while hitting her arm. "kidding! you should get it, baby, it looks great on you" ellie kissed your cheek.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ picnic and stargazing. ellie, would tell you any facts that she knows to you while showing you what's up in the sky.

"oh oh! look at that one! did you know that-" and she continued telling you her facts and you would listen carefully. but there are times that you just want to look at her like the pretty view she is. "wow, that's so cool els! tell me more" you responded to her and she will gladly tell you more about it!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ art dates! i do see ellie as an artsy girl and let me tell you she knows what she's doing with her hands and is so talented too.

sometimes you like to call her a tease just because of how her hands are doing wonders for you LOL definitely, do the 10-minute challenge thingy, making a friendship bracelet just because and of course you two had to do the hand trend things to put it at your home or offices.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ museum date or aquarium date.

ellie could go on and on and on about dinosaurs or planets even sharks! girly has so many interests that she just has so many fun facts to tell you about! "woah, baby look how big this thing is!" ellie excitedly said. "that's what she said" you joke and of course ellie snickers at your bad jokes but deep down she does find it funny.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ late-night walks or drives are for sure your two favourite things to do besides cuddling.

late night walks when the two of you couldn't fall asleep and ending up at the park playing swings and just talking about the randomest thing ever and would probably go to the convenience store to buy strawberry and blueberry slushies. the two of you end up having purple tongues

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ mannnn, i know ellie loves hiking (that doesn't take a long time to reach up the hill). i feel like she would be a sporty girl (kinda?), i mean i know she would go to the gym and all that.

ellie is a curious girl and just loves to explore new things and be adventurous and she likes it when you tag along with her. you, ellie and her cameras !! her taking pictures of her pretty girl (you!!)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ weeds and drinks combo and both of you laughing like an idiots while the soft wind brushes your skin

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ to be fair, whatever the two of you are doing together called dates! she just loves being around you and so do you!!

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

#written by ellslvr ❦#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you

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huhniebowl · 24 days

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Pink

dominic fike x reader

warning(s): smutty smut smutt yo, try at some plot yet again, lil long and all that…this filthy yall

a/n: there's for sure a ton of grammar edits that need to be made, so bear with me while i work on them! i can never seem to catch them all first day

enjoy, thanks to this yummy ass freaky ass request lmao 💗 sorry it took so long, i'm a slow writer...

You sit between Dominic, your thighs spread and thrown over his legs.

He lays back against the headboard, pink blankets, and furry throw pillows around the two of you as he trails his hands up your quivering legs.

Your canopy, a sheer pink fabric floating above your bed, does little to hide the two of you.

His warm palm contradicts the chill of the rings littering his fingers–and it makes you jolt when they caress your inner thigh.

He’s fully dressed.

A well-worn leather jacket, its surface scuffed and softened with time, hangs open over a plain fitted t-shirt, showing his solid build underneath. And jeans, their denim rough against the smooth skin of your legs.

The build-up to this wasn’t the most ideal. A lot of pent-up frustration.

He’d asked you to come with him to his YSL after-party. Usually, you'd be ready to transform yourself into his arm candy for the night, the touch of his hand lingering on your lower back as you walked into the club with him.

But this time, a different kind of excitement bubbled within you – your best friend's birthday party.

You'd promised weeks ago to go clubbing with her and some friends, and the thought of letting her down felt worse than seeing the frown that started creasing your boyfriend's forehead.

A tense silence stretched over the two of you.

"You're going out with them again?" his voice was flat, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

"It's Aria's birthday, Dom," you say, jutting your hip and leaning your weight to your right leg. "I promised weeks ago."

"This is the third time this month you’ve blown me off," he countered, sucking his teeth. "It's a big night for me. You fuckin’ know that man!”

A part of you understood, a nagging guilt prickling at your conscience. Maybe if you’d mentioned her birthday earlier, things could have been different.

But you also had a life, commitments you couldn't break at the last minute. Silence stretched between you again before you stated you were going for a shower, not having the energy for an argument.

You came out of the bathroom to an empty apartment, and anger started to simmer beneath your skin.

No goodbye kiss, no I love you.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Tonight was about Aria. Not you, and not your pissy boyfriend. You wouldn't let his actions ruin your night.

Glancing at your phone, you switched it off. Letting silence and your disconnect speak for you. You hope he got the message.

He did.

Swaying slightly, you walked back into your apartment, the gems stitched into your tight two-piece glimmering in the warped light of the city skyline that was bleeding in through your windows.

It was your skimpiest set, one that usually earned a cheeky ass grab from Dominic.

You’d only worn it once and promised only to wear it when going out with him.

Which is why he clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose when he saw you saunter in through the door at two am in that same set—reaching for the wall to peel off your boots.

Completely oblivious to his presence.

He watched as a giggle escaped your lips when you turned to look at yourself in the hallway mirror.

Your mascara and eyeliner smudged and the glitter eyeshadow you'd swiped from Aria’s makeup bag, migrated into tiny, shimmering stars under your eyes.

Your eyes are red and lidded, a remnant from the blunt you and Aria hotboxed her car with before she dropped you off.

Combined with the tequila swirling in your system, you were in a heady euphoria. Ready for sleep, the comfort of your pajamas, and your bed.

Breathing a content sigh, you turned towards the living room, and your playful smile vanished the moment your eyes met your boyfriend's sprawled form on the couch.

The two tequila shots sloshed comfortably in your stomach, but the weed buzzed a different kind of energy through you. Your limbs felt light, almost detached, and the edges of the room seemed hazy,

Dominic being the only thing your mind was processing.

Your argument replayed in your mind, a sour note against the fuzzy high. He sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, legs sprawled, and his posture slouched.

His gaze roamed your body, lingering a second too long on your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your top, before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

He looked pissed, and a chill of satisfaction wisped over you.

With an off balanced sway in your hips, you stumble over to him, ready to piss him off more than he already looked.

The closer you got, the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of a strain you’re familiar with. He was high, pupils dilated and glassy, mirroring yours.

There was an edge to him, a dangerous undercurrent, and it only fueled your ego. A twisted knot of pleasure growing in your chest knowing you were the reason for it.

You grinned, throwing one leg on either side of his thighs, straddling him on the couch. Dominic lifts his eyes to yours, staring you down despite being under you.

You feel his body flex under you.

“Awh, you look pissed baby.” you pouted, voice dripping with mock sympathy. You tilted your head to the side raking your acrylics through his hair, and pushing it back from his face. His eyebrow piercing glinted when his head knocked to the side under the aggression of your hand.

The saccharine dripping from your voice was enough to curdle milk. "What’s wrong? You can tell Mama." you cooed, nodding with fake concern.

Dominic's jaw clenched, a flicker of something like a warning sparking in his eyes before he let out a humorless laugh, licking his bottom lip and looking away from your face.

His leg started to bounce, a telltale sign of his patience wearing thin.

You weren't sure where this new attitude came from, but a thrill snaked through you as you realized you were effectively getting under his skin.

The earlier fight still hung heavy for you, and you found yourself reveling in this power trip.

Before he could pull away, your hand tightened around the fist full you had of his hair and yanked him back to face you.

"Oh, I think I know," you purred. "Is Dommy mad that I turned my phone off?" You pouted again, the childish facade at odds with the glint in your eyes.

"Yeah, that's what it is, isn't it? Or is it because I wore your favorite little two-piece without you?”

You pulled his head back so his adams apple was barred, “Maybe next time don’t leave without acknowledging me first, yeah?”

You leaned in, lips hovering over Dominic’s. You could smell the mint and alcohol in his breath, before moving to his ear.

“Fuck you.” You whispered, patting his cheek with a smile.

Pleased, you moved to get off him but halted when his hand grabbed at your hips and squeezed tight, forcing you back. You gasped at the sudden pressure, wincing slightly when he pressed harder over the bone.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Before you could sass him back, Dominic’s hand flew to your neck and pressed at the pleasure points on the side of your throat.

“Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to let you talk to me like that?” Your clit pulsed, this is a side of your boyfriend you’d never seen. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting worked up by his attitude. You pressed down on his lap and felt his dick hard and poking under his jeans–a grin spread across your lips.

“But you like it,” You wrapped your fingers around his hand on your neck, and slightly squeezed, not breaking eye contact. “Don’t you Dommy?”

And now you’re in your current position.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Dominic mutters. The hand that’s not working your thigh, sliding down your top to fondle your tits. Your nails dig into his leg, a whimper leaving your lips.

“You know better than that.” He flicks your clit through your shorts, and a pathetic squeal comes out of your throat at the pain. This was a side you weren’t familiar with, a side of him you didn’t know he could tap into. You’re unsure how to act, but a sick thrill washes over you.

“Dom please,” You breathe, “I didn’t mean—.”Dominic tuts, and muffles you with the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, you did, baby.” he slips his hand into your shorts and presses two fingers against your swollen clit, rubbing soft circles that causes your breath to catch. He’s barely applying pressure, just toying with you.

“No panties huh?” he tilted his head back, nostrils flaring as he expelled a long breath. The movement sent a shiver down your spine, and your stomach lurched.

You suck in a shaky breath, lips parting to defend yourself when his fingers tap on your lips with surprising force. He pushes them through and lets his middle and index fingers press down your tongue.

“Learn to just shut the fuck up.” he runs his tongue along the top of your ear and is quick to move his hand up from your shorts–pressing on your abdomen to bring you down when your hips buck up.

“Fuck!” you whine around his fingers, head lolling to the side, hand squeezing at his leather jacket.

He chuckles and tugs your shorts off, and he lands a smack against your sticky cunt before you can sigh in relief at finally having your shorts off.

Your vision blurs for a second, the sharp sting lacing through you. Your eyes fly shut, a surprised gasp leaving you. Fingers twitching. You’ve never felt this before, and your pussy tingles in want at the pleasured pain.

“You really wanted to piss me off tonight, huh?” his voice comes out scratchy and low. Like a threat, and you can’t help the way your cunt throbs. “Just needed everyone’s fuckin’ attention.”

You try to jerk your thighs close, but Dom’s quicker than you. Firmly gripping the meat of your thigh, and forcefully pressing down your right from the left.

His fingers still loosely hang out the side of your mouth, your spit slick across the side of your face. Your pussy leaks, both from pain and arousal, and you’re desperate for more.

Moving you around so that your legs are spread wider Dom pins you firmly against his chest.

“You don’t even deserve this.” he finally applies pressure to your clit, and your chest stutters. Sweat coats your body in a thin sheen making you appear dewy under the lit skyline pouring through your room window.

Dominic hooks his chin over your shoulder and peers his eyes down to your soaked cunt. He spreads your lips with his pointer and ring finger, the sound lewd. Your juices glimmer in the low light and Dom’s cock twitches in his jeans.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers, using the pad of his middle finger to just barely brush over your pearl. Your body quivers, fingers spazzing when you throw your head back against Dom’s shoulder.

“I—” You stutter, trying to find words.

“Hm?” He taunts, pulling his fingers away from your pussy and to his lips. You whimper at the loss of contact, eyes blown wide when Dominic makes a show of sucking off fingers. He opens his eyes just barely, and peers over at you. “Where’d all that mouth go?”

You try to speak again, but your mind blanks when the sound of Dominic’s belt unclasping filters through your ears. In a swift movement, he’s sliding out from behind you and removing his hand from your mouth.

Immediately you find yourself missing his heat and the heavy pressure of his fingers on your tongue.

Cool air rushes to your back where he once was and you shiver.

“God, you really don’t deserve this.” he reiterates, as he removes his jeans. His shirt and jacket follow suit. You watch him in a daze, thrumming in anticipation.

Just moments ago you were asserting dominance, and now your brain can’t process anything but the man undressing at the foot of your bed. He’s a stark contrast to the pink of your room. He looks out of place, despite being right where you need him.

He crawls back to you, and for the first time today, Dominic catches your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths clash in a hungry mesh of spit and tongue. Your highs make everything sloppy and disoriented, and so so good. Blindly grabbing, and taking each other apart.

Your hand tangles in his curls, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck and earning a grunt that you eagerly swallow.

Take take take. You want all of him.

You wander your fingers over the expanse of his body, nails dipping into the ridges of his stomach before slipping into his boxers, and wrapping your hand around his dick.

Dom shutters, and he pulls away from your lips to grab your wrist–his grip tight in warning.

“You don’t learn.” His breath fans hot over your lips, slick with your shared spit.

“Please Dom, just, please.” You’re downright whimpering at this point, pleading for him. Gone is your attitude from earlier, and Dominic laughs right in your face. It’s pitiful and he grins.

“Awh, what's wrong princess?” His forehead creases, mock concern seeping out of his words, and then he dips his head down to nose at the sensitive spot of your neck, just under your ear.

“You can tell Daddy.” He nods, curls tickling your cheek.

Dominic mocks your words from earlier, moving your wrist above your head. Your free hand twitches under his chest, not quite touching, just hanging in the air. Unsure if he wants you touching him.

You’re scared, and so turned on. Pussy fluttering around nothing.

“Oh, I think I know.” Dom releases your wrist and yanks you back by your hair, baring your throat out to him. Just like you did.

“You want me to fuck you. That it?”

You do. So bad. You’re not sure how much more you can take anymore, which is why you’re surprised when you feel your eyes get hot. You’ve never been brought to this point before, and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to leave this headspace.

You nod your head rapidly, tears glossing your eyes over. “ Yes, please, Dom. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, peering up at him with how he has your head positioned, and swallowing when you watch the side of his lip twitch up.

“Maybe next time don’t bitch at me, huh?” He pats your cheek twice, just like you did. It stings a little, and your thighs twitch.

Dominic tilts his head to the side, hair sliding to the right with him. He simpers and says nothing. You feel your face start to burn, feeling so small under him like this, a hot tear streams down the side of your face.

You watch Dom’s eyes follow it with rapt attention, and you part your lips ready to say something, anything, when his eyes snap back to yours and you feel the tip of his cock pushing its way into your throbbing pussy.

Your eyes roll, and your mouth hangs open. A silent gasp stuck in your throat.

You’ve fucked your boyfriend many times before. But this, this, is new. Feeling him like this was new, the bated breath, the heat, the intensity of it all.

You feel him everywhere all at once, your body pulsating, ears feeling as if they're stuffed with cotton.

You feel hot, molten almost, but you’re shivering.

Dom bends your neck back further and nods his head while pushing himself in. Inch by inch you feel him filling you up.

His face is hovering over yours, as he watches you. Lips open and brush over your own as he loses himself in your heat.

“Mhm, that’s it, baby. You feel me?” Dominic mutters against your mouth, and you wither, mindlessly lifting a hand to grab hold of his in your hair.

You can’t speak, your brain is mush. Not a single thought processing. You feel full, the stretch one that you’ll never get enough of. He’s thick and heavy, and it’s almost too much.

Then he snaps his hips, and you slur out a curse. A long drawn-out whine works its way out your throat and you squeeze your eyes. If you were in your right mind, you’d almost be embarrassed that such a sound left you. But you aren’t.

Dominic snaps his hips one more time, and then he’s fucking you as if he’s on borrowed time. His hips grind quick and hard. He untangles his hand from your hair and interlaces it with one of yours, before tucking himself securely in your neck.

He presses closer to you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Ankles locked tight, and his heavy grunts fall into your neck.

He’s a mess of praise and curses, your bodies sticking together and the smell of sex hot in the air.

Your body jolts up with each thrust and you use your free arm to wrap around Dom’s back. Your acrylics scratch into his skin as you try to ground yourself.

But you need more.

“More, Dom,” You whimper out. “Please.”

He’s manhandling you around before your mind could process it. Head lifted from your neck as he turned you over on your stomach in a heated frenzy.

Your face is mushed into your pillows at the foot of your bed, ass perked up.

“Never satisfied are you?” Dom grunts, slipping back inside you and giving you just what you asked for. He leans down so he’s molded to the shape of your back, and grabs hold of your throat from behind.

You’re being fucked dumb, have no idea what you’re saying. If you’re even saying anything at all. Body tingling everywhere.

“You feel so good, baby. So good for me.” Dominic praises, reveling in how good your pussy sucks him in. How warm and gummy you feel around him. Squeezing him just right.

You’re both intertwined with pleasure, in a conjoined headspace that you hope never ends. You don’t even know how you both got to this point anymore. What you were arguing about in the first place. Just that you want to keep fucking like this, want to always feel him like this.

You start to feel yourself getting lifted off the mattress and then you’re on your knees, Dominic’s front still molded to your back. He reaches around and squeezes your right tit, fingers rolling your nipple.

You reach back and grip his hair when he starts leaving messy kisses down the side of your throat.

“Look. Look at yourself while I fuck you.” Dom orders, his voice vibrates through you and it takes all you have to peel your eyes open to see yourself through the mirror.

It’s in the corner of your room, and you can only see the side of you and Dom as he snaps his hips into you. Your eyes lock with him through the mirror. He’s already staring at you through his lashes, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His gaze is primal, something wicked and you feel your stomach start to tighten, pussy spazzing around him.

“Oh fuck m’ gonna cum. Gonna cum.” you slur.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” He moves down to start rubbing tight circles on your clit, and you arch your back, throwing your head back against his shoulder. A chorus of yes’s.

“Look.” He grunts again, hand moving off your neck to firmly grip your jaw and force your face back to the mirror. You look a fucking mess.

That coil in your tummy tying a knot so tight, you’re not sure you’re ready for it to snap. But you need it too. Need it so fucking bad.

You bring a hand to grip Dom's arm that's resting on your abdomen, toes curled tight.

“Right there, right there!” You squeal, feeling yourself weaken in his hold. Dom feels it too, and pushes you back down into your sheets, his pace harder in the new position. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding your middle half in a slight arch.

“Cum for me, you can do it. Make me cum.” He’s whispering in your ear, “So fuckin’ close, cum with me baby.”

And the pleasure that’s been brewing, thrumming throughout your body, breaks.

You cum hard, Dominic’s name high-pitched and breathless when you reach down to tightly grip the corner of your mattress. Back arched high like a cat.

Your pussy clamps down on Dom, walls spasming around his dick, and it sets him off. His struggles to close his eyes, they’re lidded as he drunkenly loses himself in your pussy, chasing his orgasm.

You watch him through your mirror with low eyes. Watch as his mouth drops open. Watch as he drops onto you, squeezing you tight when he finally cums. Painting your walls white, and filling you up.

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. Dom starts to pepper kisses on the side of your face, and you turn your head to catch his lips. It’s slower than the one you shared earlier. Heavy with I’m sorry, and I love you.

You pull away first, watching as a smile takes over his face. The position you’re in is awkward, but you both couldn’t care less right now. You reach around as best you can and brush his hair back from his eyebrow, softly rubbing your thumb over the piercing.

“So, how was clubbing without me? Boring huh?” You grin a shit-eating grin, and Dom rolls his eyes when you start laughing.

“Fuck off.”

244 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 9 months

Text

wise words | eddie munson

summary Eddie f*cked up (royally) and has to work his ass off to get you back. based on a swift song obviously [4k]

contains 18+! fem!reader, a bit of fuckboy!eddie, angst, arguing, grovelling, hurt/comfort, crying, eventual fluff, suggestive themes/allusions to smut, Robin and Steve being disappointed but supportive pseudo-parents

He’s standing on your doorstep.

He’s standing on your doorstep and he’s shaking. Like a fucking leaf.

He looks down at the flowers wrapped in cellophane and thinks, are they good enough?

Am I good enough?

Will anything ever be good enough?

Thick drops of rainwater run down the plastic and coat the pink petals and he resolves that no, they’re not good enough.

He knocked twenty-three seconds ago. He knows this because he’s counting, keeping himself grounded.

Twenty-four Mississippi.

Twenty-five Mississippi.

Twenty-six Miss-

The door swings open quickly, almost impatiently, as though there wasn’t nearly half a minute between the knock and the response.

He looks up and when his eyes meet yours he knows for sure this time that this was a bad idea.

“Are you insane?” you ask him. Concern cuts through the irritation, leaving those creases by your eyebrows he’s so familiar with.

He doesn’t respond, his mind elsewhere. He’s desperately trying to pull it back but it’s running fast, back to yesterday evening.

“Eddie, seriously,” Robin says, impatient, “you have to do something. This is getting ridiculous, and besides, she’s crazy about you, even if you did royally fuck up, and- Hey!”

“What Rob means to say,” Steve interjects, giving her a swift and clean elbow to the ribs, “is that you’ve gotta grovel, man.”

“But it’s been so long,” Eddie whines, running his hands over his face, a pattern he has grown accustomed to over the past few months. A fed-up, miserable routine of lamenting his deepest regrets to his patient but equally-as-fed-up friends over beers on the nights you’re too busy to join them. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Here,” Robin says, laying her palms flat on the table, fingers splayed. She pushes herself up, weight on her hands, and leans over Eddie. He stares up at her from behind his own fingers and winces quietly. “You love her, right?”

“Yes,” he responds, voice muffled under the heels of his hands.

“And she loves you-”

“Does she?”

“-and we know this because we’re her friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flit to Steve, whose face is drooping with sympathy. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of a Robin Buckley lecture knows the feeling, and he has had his fair share.

“So what you gotta do,” she continues, dipping her head to regain his attention, “is apologise.”

“I tried that-”

“Properly.”

At this he gives in, huffing a sigh and dropping his arms to fold in front of him, quickly enough to catch his head as it drops to the table like an anvil. He hears Robin return to her seat, and then feels gracious fingers on his elbow.

“Eds, man, it’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta fight for it.” It’s Steve, being soft as ever, so desperate to see his two friends happy that he’ll relinquish himself to his affectionate side.

“I want to,” he says, voice muffled again by the denim of his jacket sleeves. “But she deserves better than me.”

“Tell her that,” Robin suggests, voice far softer now. “Tell her you miss her, it’s been a long time, and that you were scared.”

She’s clever, Eddie thinks, pulling that gem out from the archives. On a particularly bad night, maybe two months after it had happened, he’d admitted to them the truth at the heart of all of this: he’s a scared boy, one who resolved while young that he would never fall in love, never let the walls down, for fear that he’d have to endure loss any more than was necessary. Your love had driven him mad and fear had driven him away, and now he avoids three diners and nearly all of the gas stations across Hawkins, schedules doctors appointments at the most inconvenient times and definitely never steps foot in the movie theatre downtown.

“She’ll come around,” Robin tells him kindly. When he lifts his head, eyes regretfully filling with that hopeful spark, she says, “She’s mad, don’t get me wrong. But she’ll come around. You just have some work to do.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve says in a cadence that worries Eddie enough to make him lift his head back up again, looking at Steve’s stern expression, “she does deserve better than you.”

“Stop, Steve, seriously-”

“She deserves better than you if you can’t find the fucking courage to go get her back.”

Now, standing on your front doorstep, looking at you for the first time in half a year, Eddie knows Steve was right. He doesn’t have the balls to do this; he’s too afraid of rejection, and more specifically rejection from you, and this was a bad idea. You deserve better.

He barely notices when you step one pace to the left, and when you speak your voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of a thick wall.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out there.”

He moves without thinking too hard, because you’re right - it’s cold as fuck out here and he’s grateful for the humming warmth he can feel coming from inside your home.

“Just stay there, I’m gonna get some towels.”

He feels pathetic, standing in your hallway, dripping wet like a fucking dog, gripping so hard onto the flowers that his knuckles are turning white. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, afraid of getting anything in your house wet, but acutely aware of how stupid he must look.

You come back around the corner with two big bath towels in your arms. They’re white and Eddie feels the burning shame of ruining them but says nothing, remaining tight-lipped and letting you clean up the floor. When your fingers curl around his tense ones he stares at you, at the strange, unreadable look on your face, and feels the jolt of a thousand volts carry down his fingers and into his shoulder. Where your fingers made contact you leave a sensation not unlike carpet burn.

“These are pretty,” you tell him, gently pulling the flowers from his grip. The cellophane crinkles and it slowly brings him back to this, to you, and he nearly chokes on air.

He says your name, a pathetic sound followed by even more pathetic noises, and when you smile, tight-lipped just like him and brows turned down, he cracks, voice failing him as he stumbles.

“Get your boots off and meet me in the kitchen,” you say, your face unreadable as ever as you turn on your heels and step back through the open door he knows well.

You leave him bewildered, like a soldier in the wake of a bomb, but he eventually comes to and does as you say. He debates leaving them outside, to cause you the least bother possible, but decides instead to leave them on one of the towels by the door.

His socks are soggy, slipping on the hardwood as he treads softly through your home. The reaction his gut is having to being here is ugly, so he breathes in slowly through his nose and wipes rainwater off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You’ve got your back to him, standing over the sink. At first he thinks you’re sorting the flowers, the way you always do - wrapping off, stalks trimmed, vase filled - but then he sees that, instead, you’re gripping the porcelain. White-knuckled.

For the first time he gets a look at you, or the back of you at least, because he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard him come around the corner. You’re much the same as before, except for the way you’ve cut your hair, and the fact that he remembers you in pretty sundresses and tennis shoes but it’s December, so you’re bundled in a jumper and sweats.

“I, uh-” He stammers, words catching on the edges of his teeth. He says your name again and watches you flinch. “It’s- It’s been so long, I-”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shoulders relaxing and grip loosening. You turn and lean back on the sink with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Just so you know,” he starts, and he can feel it, the fucking sarcastic tone that he can’t seem to shake. It comes out whenever he has to be genuine and it’s like someone else somewhere is pushing his buttons, controlling what comes out of his mouth. “-it’s been the, uh, the longest six months I think... ever.”

You look at him, more than familiar with this tone and this game.

“Yeah,” you say again.

“I don’t really know how to-”

“Eddie,” you bite, words like venom. “Can I ask you a question?”

As he nods his head, a little bemused, you gesture to the kitchen table. He catches on and sits at the chair closest to the door as you mirror him on the chair opposite.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

You rest your crossed arms on the table and lean on them, peering at him.

He breathes in slowly.

“To apologise.”

You scoff and he flinches, recoiling at the sound.

“And how’s this one gonna be different to the other hundred apologies?” You spit the word, as though it bears no meaning. At this point, and when it comes to Eddie, it almost doesn't.

That’s fair, he thinks.

“You are such a fucking jackass, Eddie Munson,” Robin barks, raising her arms in defeat. She’s pacing the aisles of Family Video while he sits on the counter and Steve loiters behind it, sorting tapes. “A jackass, seriously!”

“I get it, Rob, thanks,” he drones.

“No,” she snaps, feet finally finished being aimless and instead marching her over to him. She stands somewhere close to between his knees and if it weren’t Robin and she weren’t about to grill him for all he’s worth, it might be endearing.

She jabs her index finger into his chest, straight to the centre of his sternum.

“You’re a piece of shit. An asshole. A douchebag. And I’m allowed to call you all of these things because it’s me who gets the phone calls at two in the morning when she’s crying over you. Again.”

He drops his gaze, his hair covering her wrist and his face.

“Why’d you do it, dude?” Steve asks from behind him. “Like… I just don’t see the… Goal, or whatever.”

Eddie groans and tips his head back, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling tiles.

He wonders for a brief moment, before answering, why the two of them are still friends with him. Clearly his end goal is being as inaccessible as possible, keeping everyone at such a far distance at all times that he can never feel remorse, or that he’s letting anyone down. But now he’s here, with his friends, and he’s let them down and, worst of all, let you down, too. More than ever.

“I was trying to make it better,” he says, and the jab to the sternum comes harder this time, and is the full brunt of Robin’s fist rather than her finger.

“That is bullshit,” she says.

“I was!” he maintains, exasperated. “I just… I started trying to explain myself and I just couldn’t tell the truth.”

“So instead you told her you never want to see her again?!”

“I-”

“How does that help literally anything?!”

Robin’s right, of course. She’s always right; too smart for her own good, Eddie’s always thought. But he doesn’t have an answer for her.

“She’s better off that way anyway,” he says, sighing.

He blinks at you, studying your stern expression, before answering.

“I wanna be honest with you,” he begins, “like, actually this time. And I know it’s been ages and that I have been…”

“Awful,” you suggest.

“Yeah, awful-”

“An asshole. The worst. Evil. Cruel. Mean.”

“Right,” he says, nodding limply. “Yeah. That.”

You lean back, arms still crossed like armour.

“I want to get this right,” he admits, surprising himself, “and I’m trying to work out how.”

You also seem taken aback by this, brows raising just a bit, your eyes going wide. You don’t say anything, though.

“I want you to know how sorry I am,” he continues. He’s sitting rigid in his seat and can’t find something to occupy his fingers, so he begins twisting a ring around one of them. “But, like, I don’t know how to get that across… The flowers were, uh, step one, and this is step two… I, uh…”

He’s stumbling again, searching for the words in a sea of insecurity and unsteadiness. You wait, sitting still and breathing shallow.

“I think I- I was scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He was expecting a vast silence that he would have to fill with pleas, excuses, sorries and truths. He thought you’d leave him to it and let him down slowly at the end.

“Uh, of you. Of us, I guess.”

“What?”

He leans forward finally, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to-”

“Try,” you say flatly.

He looks up at you, unsure.

“Try to explain it. You haven’t even tried.”

Deep, heavy breath in.

“Eddie, you can’t, I don’t-”

“Fucking stop it,” he bites, arrowhead words ripping you open.

“I don’t understand,” you try again, voice thick with tears and your throat closing in. In fact, everything is closing in.

He’s leaving.

“Exactly,” he spits, pulling his shirt on. “Just… I’m going.”

“But-”

He’s out of the door, jacket in arm, before you can protest any further. Your mind is racing, spinning out in search of something that you could have done to fix this, or else something you could have done to cause this.

But you’re coming up empty, because you’d spent the day the same as any other day this summer: in your bed, entwined, wayward fingers and lazy kisses. Sweet nothings splashed in whispers across bare skin, and-

Oh, you think. Oh.

“When you said you loved me,” he begins, wincing at his own honesty, “I just… I freaked, it was scary. I… Honestly, the main problem here is that I was fucking scared. I am scared. I don’t know how to… How to love, or whatever… How to do it right and not hurt you, or me, or both of us. I’m useless, it’s why I’ve never bothered before and I knew, even before we started hooking up, that-”

“Hooking up?”

He looks at you, pulling his eyes back from their wandering, to find you bitter and your face contorted in disgust.

“You call that hooking up?”

“I mean- I-”

“If you think we were hooking up, that’s bad enough, Eddie. Hook ups don’t last three months.”

“No,” he sighs. “They don’t. I think I’m… Trying to make myself feel better about it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him, and though it’s cutting and it should hurt, your voice is so kind so suddenly that he can’t help but lean into it, tugging gently on the hands of care it extends to him. “You left me, after months of stringing me along. I was basically your girlfriend, without the labels or whatever. There isn’t another word for what we were.”

“No,” he agrees, dwelling for a moment too long on those moments of domesticity, the quiet mornings drinking coffee on your front lawn, the afternoons spent hanging the laundry and throwing stray socks at one another. “And that was fucking scary. I was way too scared, when you said you loved me that morning, way too scared to admit what I really, really wanted.”

“Which was?” you ask, arms still firmly crossed.

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You know what I-”

“Say it.”

“You-

“Say it.”

He breathes, defeated, and looks at you dead in the eye.

“I love you,” he tells you. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

You deflate, your arms going lax, face surprised as though you didn’t expect him to actually do it, to rise to your challenge and be honest. For a flash, he feels smug, but then he remembers-

“I love you,” he repeats - the feeling of the words rolling off his tongue is unbearable, they’re too heavy, they won’t stop falling - “but you deserve better than me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in frustration.

“Why are you here then?”

“What?”

“If I deserve better than you,” you repeat, finally releasing the tightness of your crossed arms and planting your palms on your knees, “why are you here? To torture me? Not satisfied with the last six fucking months, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Well, Eddie-” You spit his name like it’s gone bad and it twists something inside him. “-I’m fucking fed up of you and your… How mean you are. You’re always so mean to me and I hate that I cried over you for weeks-”

The door swings open and Robin rushes inside, expression tight with fear and worry.

She calls your name in a tone that drips affection as she rounds on you, where you’re standing with your weight on the wall and a hand over your face. By now it’s puffy and uncomfortable, your cheeks raw from wiping them with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“What happened?” she asks, holding you like you’re about to break and moving you across your house to the couch. “Did you argue? Or-”

“He left, Robs. Just left.” You sigh and it heaves like you’re sat under a crate of bricks. Robin’s heart aches, nearly cracks in two at the sight of you and the fury she feels for her stupid, good-for-nothing metalhead friend.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, wrapping you up in strong arms. As she rocks you, you cry, and she kisses the crown of your head and tells you, without much belief in it herself, that it’ll be okay.

“Steve’s on his way,” she says after ten or fifteen minutes.

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“We’re gonna stay here,” she says quickly, “just for tonight.”

You look at her, eyes glassy, and as you speak your voice cracks. “I love him, Rob.”

She looks back at you sadly, fingers gripping your hands. “I know.”

You’re on your feet now, pacing back and forth and he’s watching, transfixed, as your shoulders move up and down, powered by rage, understandably.

“-I cried so much because I had spent weeks working up the courage to say that to you, to admit it to you and to myself because you’re so cold, Eddie. You’re so cold and distant and I still managed to fall in love with you.”

It’s at this point that Eddie’s drifting eye, which is following you back and forth, lands on the cluster of picture frames on your windowsill. He recognises most of them - photos of the group of you, up by the lake or in Chicago, some of your family and others at special occasions. But one of them calls to him loud enough to pull his eye from you completely.

It’s a silly frame he found at the thrift store. It’s hand-painted in gaudy colours, brush strokes in swirls and bursts of yellow and purple and green. And behind the glass is a picture Wayne had taken one day when you were at his trailer, watching movies on the couch.

It’s a polaroid, as most of your photos are, bright cracks of colour and light caused by the window right by his head - his head which is looking straight ahead, big wide grin and happy eyes, and you beside him, hands on one of his thighs, pushing yourself up to kiss his cheek.

It’s only when you stop pacing and, more noticeably, stop talking that he realises anything is wrong. His face is wet and there are new drops of water on the table - not the drying rainwater from his hair, but one or two drips from his jaw.

“Are you crying?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Huh?” He asks, wiping his face with his wrist. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just-”

His eyes flicker upwards and past you, to somewhere you follow with your own gaze. It lands on the photo and you start, cheeks flushing warm.

Suddenly, the anger lingering in the room, filling the air and his lungs and almost definitely yours, dissipates. It doesn’t disappear as such - you’re still seething, breathing loudly, but it’s like someone cracked a whip and the dust lifted.

He calls your name and you look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you earnestly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe out slowly and he watches your chest deflate as you take a step to sit back down. As you sit he rises, stepping over to you on unsure feet. He’s tentative, waiting - expecting - an adverse reaction.

You watch him as he gets closer and lowers himself to the ground.

“You are not about to-”

“I’m not getting on my knees, if that’s what you’re gonna say,” he says, and his tone is light - too light for his liking, but he catches the twitch in the corner of your mouth and something warm blooms in one of the chambers of his heart.

He squats beside you, resting his weight on one hand on the table. He keeps the other to himself, fingers spread over his bent knee.

“I’m an asshole. In fact, I’ve been all of those things you said, and I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough for you. But I… I’ve had all this time, and some… intense conversations with Rob and Steve, and I… I want to try to be sorry enough. Or to just make it up to you, somehow. Because I can’t… It’s too hard, doing all of this without you.”

He knows how this must look, him on the ground, soggy socks and soggier hair, staring at you like a lost puppy. But the way your eyes soften, and the familiar feeling of the brush of your fingertips over the damp skin of his bare wrist, is enough to make him go limp.

“What’d they say?” you ask him, watching your own fingers where they trace aimless strokes.

“Hm?”

“Rob and Steve. What’d they say?”

He laughs lightly, embarrassed.

“Uh, that I’m an asshole. In fact, Rob, she made sure to tell me that multiple times. Basically every time I saw her. And Steve, he… He’s such a good dude, you know? But I… I disappointed them, and myself, and you. I hurt you so bad and I don’t know where to put all this guilt I have.”

Neither of you are looking at one another, but you chuckle, thinking about Robin. Her loyalty makes your head spin. And Steve, with his heart of gold, who held you all those times you cried and fought silently between his anger at Eddie and his love for you.

“I love them,” you whisper, your fingers halting. The pad of your thumb hovers over the protruding joint, stroking it softly until you feel the thrum of his pulse under your own. Your fingers wrap the opposite way, until you’re holding his arm like a bracelet.

You squeeze and he sucks a quick breath in.

“You really hurt me, Eddie,” you tell him, lifting his arm off the table. He wobbles and uses his free hand to steady himself on your chair, the knuckle of his thumb meeting the side of your thigh for just a second. You manoeuvre his hand into your lap, where you lay it flat. You both stare at it and all he can hear is your breathing and the rush of blood past his ears.

“I know I did,” he says. “I can go, if you want.”

You hum and begin tracing the lines on his palm. “It’s gonna take a while,” you say.

“What is?”

“Making it up to me.”

His eyes move without permission to your face, where he finds a barely-there smile and the beginnings of the crows feet by your eyes.

“Forever,” he says, knowing you’re right - it’ll take a long, long time.

“Forever.”

“I must’ve been crazy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Hm?”

Your fingers are still now, resting on his, and he finally moves his own. His knees are burning from squatting and the balls of his feet are digging into something sharp under the linoleum, but he’s not thinking too hard about any of it. He takes your hands in his and holds them, backs of your palms to the front of his. He dips his head and kisses your left wrist and then your right, lingering to feel the thump of your heart.

“I am crazy,” he says. “I let you go.”

“You left me,” you correct him. “I never wanted to go.”

He looks up at you and pales when he sees the tears. Your eyes are wet and red round the edges and he thinks to himself that you’ve been doing this, crying over him, for six months. And it’s his fault.

The two of you move quickly and without thought. His knees buckle, giving into the strain he’s been putting on them for so long, and as he hits the floor he tightens his grip on you without meaning to. You’re pulled off your chair with a yelp and a clatter, landing in his lap with your knee dangerously close to his crotch.

Hands paw and wipe tears and you lift your leg to plant it beside him. As you stabilise yourself his arms come around you, too quickly at first; so quick he worries you’ll push him off, tell him to go fuck himself. They’re met by yours, though, coming around his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You say nothing, and instead push your face further into his shoulder.

He feels and hears you sniffling, so he pulls you back gently. Some of his hair sticks to your face and you wipe your nose unceremoniously with the back of your hand, scoffing at him when you see he’s smiling at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, looking away.

“Like what?”

“Like… That.”

“I don’t-”

“You have that look,” you say, groaning. And then you reach up to hold his face, and he caves, bowing into you in every way he can. “You’re so fucking pretty and it’s the worst.”

“You’re one to talk,” he tells you, enjoying the way you flush.

“Always the charmer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Never seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He leans into your palm and twists just so, lips brushing the heel of it in a quick kiss.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you tell him, your smile deceiving you only slightly.

“I know,” he says. “But it might help me.”

You’ve been inching closer to his face, and now you’re all he sees. You’ve taken up his field of vision, your breath brushing past the end of his nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Wow,” you laugh, “Steve taught you how to be a gentleman since I last saw you or somethin’?”

“Stop- You’re ruining this.”

“Sorry,” you say, still laughing. “You were just never the kind to be so… chivalrous.”

“I’m hardly being chivalrous,” he says, matching your smile. “But now you mention it, yeah, actually.”

You lean back only slightly but it’s enough to make him deflate, unhappy at the new distance.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean… I was an asshole, as we’ve established. Needed to learn my manners again.”

“What did he say?”

“Can we please talk about this later? I just wanna-”

“No,” you say, grinning now. “I want to know.”

He groans, the hand he has spread across your back to hold you up tensing.

“I dunno, he just… He really did a number on me, y’know, telling me how I did everythin’ wrong and that I…”

He’s gone coy and you’re relishing in it.

“You what?”

“I… Steve called me a fuckboy.”

You bark out a laugh so loud Eddie flinches, but then he watches as you carry on laughing, nearly bent double, eyes all crinkled just the way he likes, the way he’s missed terribly.

“What’s so funny?!”

“It’s true,” you say. “It’s so true! Robin, Steve, I mean, we love you, obviously, you’re our friend, but like… They did say when you and me started, y’know… That I was in for it, that you’d break my heart, and I told them they were crazy ‘cause it was just sex, right? But then I realised maybe it wasn’t just sex, when you basically started living here, and we were more like… I dunno, like a couple… But they were right!”

He looks at you, aghast.

“They told you all of that?”

“Yeah! I mean, they were right, huh?”

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad, that they’d be able to notice that kinda thing.”

“You know,” you say, fingers tapping patterns up his chest. “Steve told me somethin’ else, a few months back.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, mind reeling through the thousands of things this could be.

“It’s not bad,” you say. “Well, it’s not one of the bad things. There were still bad things.”

“Right.”

“He said… He said he’s known you for, what, like three years now? And in all that time, before you and me met, you’d always have different girls, were known as a bit of a player at school…”

“Christ, okay.”

“But after you left me, Steve said he’d never seen you be so… Alone.”

Eddie looks at you in shock, so frightened by what else Steve may have said, but also by how you’re relaying this to him. Calm, stoic, unfeeling.

“I mean… I haven’t, y’know, slept with anyone else, if that’s what you-”

“I know,” you say. “I just… It makes it feel more real, you know?”

“I know I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life making sure you know I’m sorry,” he says, breathing out through his nose slowly, “but I mean it. I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. There isn’t anyone else. I’ll forego women, relationships, whatever… ‘Cause I won’t have time. Will be too busy makin’ it up to you.”

He noses at your neck, trying with everything he has to hold himself back from kissing you. The air around the two of you feels thick with laboured breaths and unsaid things - so many unsaid things, things he’ll tell you one day and other things he’s sure he’ll hear from you.

“So can I?” he murmurs into the warm skin above your collarbone, lips only a hair from making contact.

He feels your fingers come around the back of his neck, taking root at the nape where his hair starts. They curl around it, tugging him up, and then you do the dance - the one that always happened between the two of you in these moments. You dip in, so close, and back out, ebbing like a riverbank. It drives him crazy and he knows that you know it, so he smiles, and it’s only then that you finally kiss him.

As you move against him, lips and hands and chest and thighs, he lets his eyes close and his tongue move with yours, and thinks that this - kissing you - is much better when he’s being honest.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things eddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie fanfic #stranger things season 4 #st4 #robin buckley #steve harrington

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soft-for-them · 1 year

Text

Green first aid kit - Billy Hargrove x plus size reader

Summary: Back at school you find Billy worse for wear.

Trigger warning: This part does mention Billy's abuse and him having an injury from a fight, the fight isn't described or shown though.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

Part one - Part two - Part three

Come Monday morning Billy Hargrove wasn’t at first period History sitting near you passing notes, neither was he hanging around before class waiting for you with a big grin, nor was he slipping in after the teacher had left so he can talk to you, he was nowhere to be found at all.

Deep down you wished for him to be hiding near your locker in between the small nook where a fire extinguisher and fire alarm sits, him dressed in his denim jacket, his hair fluffy and curled. He would come up with a reason why he wasn’t there, something along the lines of hating your history teacher with all his heart or sleeping in late and missing most of the lesson. But no, when you rushed over to your locker he wasn’t there, he wasn’t anywhere.

He wasn’t in for the whole day, you knew for sure for you overheard a cheerleader bitching about it like she was entitled to flirt with Billy, like he was expected to come to school every day to flirt with only her.

To think you wore a nice peach sun dress to school just so maybe he’d see you and call you princess again.

So the next day you’re uncharacteristically angsty, every second your eyes flicking to the clock above the chalk board then to the nearest door wondering if he’d walk in all smirks and no apologies. Normally you love second period English Literature but you're too fidgety to listen in to your teacher talk about Shakespeare and sonnets, the Tuesday morning classes dragging on too long.

You are leaned into the small desks more than normal, the wood of the table pressing into your stomach more, your mind stuck on Billy fucking Hargrove’s face and not on the bold writing on the board that states you have homework due in next week.

Truly you would be lying to yourself if you said last night you didn’t have a dream of Billy, that the dream felt so real that you worried somehow it was and that something terrible had happened whilst you were sleeping. It’s stupid and frankly untrue having such a vivid dream about waking up at the bottom of a swimming pool only to be saved by Billy, the sky a dark purple, the grass coloured like burnt ash and Billy looking like the living dead could never be true.

Well you hope it never does.

If you were one of those zodiac sign, gem stone collector, ‘what time where you born?’ women then maybe you could deduce a meaning from the dream but really you’re too tired and too on edge to think up one.

Maybe you’ll ask a stoner friend about the dream’s meaning, minus mentioning Billy, then maybe you can get some answers about it.

Lunch time comes along and you feel too sick to eat any cafeteria food, so with a brief ‘goodbye’ to your small group of friends paired with a weak excuse to ditch gossip time you hurry out the double doors of the cafeteria, down the many hallways and out the nearest exit only your purse in your pockets.

Technically it’s still summer but the impending autumn winds are slowly coming in, a warm gust of air jostling your baggy jeans, bits of white thread from the rips at your knees and on the inside of your thigh blowing upwards, the sleeves to your t-shirt whipping around your chubby upper arms. Really your outfit today is the bare minimum, you’re trying to look like you’re not having a bad day, a stark opposite to yesterday’s dressed up outfit. The thigh hole in your ancient jeans are from years chub rub and the holes in the knees from before you hit puberty, younger you having to buy bigger sized jeans from the adult section thus tripping over the bottoms of them every five minutes for you were a middle schooler who hadn’t had a growth spurt yet.

The joys of being plus size am I right…

For a moment you wonder if you can sneak out and find the nearest shop to get a snack, you’re used to walking long walks in short amount of time, most days you do that because you don’t own a car. You could really go for some overly sugary candy from a gas station or a pre-packaged baguette (which you’d only eat half of, the rest of it getting crammed into your locker for later on), anything other than the grey school lunch burgers with watery ketchup or stale vending machine crisps that coast too much.

Like always there’s a decision to be made; walk to the nearest shop most certainly being late for maths after lunch or just take a breather outside on an empty stomach, not being late for the next class.

Whilst some would call you a goody two shoes for always being in all your classes, the overwhelming feeling of dread, that feeling of hunger mixed with the sickness that comes with not wanting to walk back into the school building until you feel better takes over you. Everyone gets it one way or another, the people who are too worried about attendance tend to stay in the classrooms until they explode and break down while others frequently skive off school opting to smoking weed and kiss girls to chill out. You’re of sound mind and sound idea that calming down before heading back inside is the best course of action, maybe even touching some grass will get you mind off Billy Hargrove and maybe quell the gargling nervousness in your stomach.

But then again you need to eat, that and you fucking hate maths.

So it’s decided that you’re going to the shops, the walk and food will make you feel better in no time!

Scuffed shoes pick up gravel as you walk across to the car park, a hand digging into a pocket to make sure your purse is securely in place. You’re in no rush however you do dodge around the many parked cars in a certain way to make sure no teachers see you sneaking away, not that they’d really care all that much but there’s always that one teacher who likes to snitch on students.

You walk pass familiar cars of classmates, narrowly avoiding eye contact with a band kid you know inside his car trying to make moves on his girlfriend. You clamber up and onto the grass nearing an exit to the school, hands in your pockets and eyes looking out for moving cars.

The sun shines on the exit like a place maker in a video game, so you speed up your steps to get out as fast as you can not wanting to explain to any faculty why you’re sneaking out but then you see it.

Parked underneath some over grown trees, shielded by chunky pickup trucks and station wagons borrowed from parents is a car so familiar that it makes you stop mid step. The grey 79 Camaro sits dormant and shaded, from where you stand you can see the driver’s sun visor flipped down and the car is completely turned off, the engine not revving or spluttering.

Now the right thing to do is just to carry on your walk not going over there to see if it’s actually Billy’s 79 Camaro and not somehow another Camaro some jock copying Billy has bought to seem cool but you’ve been worrying about the ‘king’ of the school for the last two days so you shift your step and head over to the low down car.

*Tap* *Tap* Tap*

You lean over somewhat, the bumper of the car pressing into your legs as you tap the wind shield of the car, a very asleep Billy Hargrove in the front seat. His denim jacket covers his face from beams of sunlight that cut through the trees through the front window, his hands balanced on his toned stomached, fingers knitted together.

You shimmy around to the driver’s side squishing in between his Camaro and the truck next to it tapping on the side window.

“Billy.” you call quietly not wanting to blow your cover to anyone else sitting in their car. You look around before banging the window some more, your knuckles hurting just a bit as you knock on the thick glass.

“Billy!” whisper shouting isn’t doing it, “BILLY!”

Your voice turns stern but almost needy, the fear in your head that someone might catch you and drag you away ever present as you bend down slightly so you’re at eye level with the sleeping man. Your body presses against the other car, your face turning sour as you stop knocking.

Stepping out from the cars, still close but no longer trying to wake up Billy, you debate whether or not you should leave a note or something like him.

You frown at the idea, firstly because you only have a purse on you but also because what would you write to him if you did have a piece of paper and a pen?

“Hey, you missed history – (y/n).” no, he never promised that he would be there, you just assumed he would be.

“Sleepy head see you at the pool. – (y/n).” no, no, no. You don’t want to seem weird, you don’t want him to think that you’re planning on going back to the pool on the weekend just for him. Anyway you have work this weekend so it’s not like you could go either way.

Maybe you could just leave you home phone…. Fucking hell no, that’s the worst idea you’ve had yet.

Really when you saw Billy’s car you didn’t go other there to flirt, really you’re just worried. Whilst your interactions with the Cali man have been all positive as of late you’ve heard things, you’ve seen the things his so called ‘friends’ do, you’ve seen his dad around town and you keep clear of him.

The family members you live with have told you about Neil Hargrove and well you do not like the sound of him one bit.

You hover around still wondering what to do before spinning around and walking away from the car, your plan to get food foiled, the frown on your face now permanent for you know you’ve wasted enough time banging on the car window that you can’t go to the shop without missing maths.

“Fuck!” you mutter, your eyes going back to the Camaro.

Now sat up, jacket off his face, his eye wide and staring right back at you, Billy Hargrove looks out of place, no thoughts in his head, not like the normal smirking flirt you’ve come to know. You raise a hand to give him a little wave which snaps him out of his momentary mind blank. He lifts a hand up back which prompts you to walk back over.

“Roll the widow down.” you say with a little hand gesture once you get to the car.

He does so.

There staring up at you with the eyes of a scared child, his baby blues so watery and wide that they look like the sad sea, his left eyelid a deep purple bruise.

His left eye must have been swollen shut at one point for his eyelid is still a bit droopy.

“Billy…”

You don’t intend your voice to be so wobbly when you say his name, your own (e/c) eyes watering up but your voice wavers and your eyes fill with salty water.

“I’m fine princess.” he barely gets out, “Just lost a fight Sunday night, that’s all.”

Fuck. You don’t want him calling you princess when he’s so sad. You selfishly want him calling you princess when his eyes are filled with mischief or even lust, not when he’s about to burst into tears.

He must think you’re pitying him for he looks away his forehead hitting the top of the steering wheel.

“Billy-“ his eyes flicker to yours, his curly blonde hair half covering the side of his face, “- I was going to walk to the shops but-“

You try to think of how to say your next words without sounding like you’re demanding a free lift from the obviously dejected man in front of you.

“-Do you want to come with me? I, well, we can share some food.”

He nods his head ‘yes’.

You don’t have a lot of money, that is clear, but today you have enough loose coins and crunched up dollar notes to pay for the things you need.

You enter the small out the way shop, the bell above the door stuck and not ringing. The shop used to be a petrol station before the chain company that owned it went bankrupt, now it’s just a shop with the worst painted parking lines you’ve ever seen.

The man behind the till tilts his head up from his newspaper, his puffy eyes staring you down as you shuffle past a rack of crisps into an aisle filled with cupboard food. The metal shelves that tower above you are packed with every kind of dry food you’d ever need. Your eyes flicker from boxed yellow pastas to dusty lidded jars of red unnamed sauces. You move along, wallet tightly in your hands as you walk down the aisle to the very back of the shop where the wall to ceiling freezers and fridges sit. For a moment you look in the freezer a frozen mac n’ cheese catching your eyes.

Whilst the family you live with do cook the odd meal for you most of the time they’re out the house so you have to cook for yourself and well, the fridge-freezer at home is very much empty at the moment. There is probably some stuff in the cupboards but normally you don’t bother with that food for the last time you ate some cupboard food (some half stale frosted flakes) you were yelled at.

It would be nice to have a warm meal tonight, even if it’s a microwave meal, but you have to go back to school and having a frozen ready meal in your bag does not sound like a good idea. You cringe at the thought of the flimsy plastic getting pierced by a rouge pencil and spilling throughout your bag.

Ew, no thank you!

Instead you walk over to the fridges filled with soft drinks.

Up close you can tell the fridges aren’t actually on, the little orange filament lights off and the drinks bone dry. It doesn’t bother you that much, you’re only planning on getting some drinks and not a whole meal of probably gone off food. Anyway, from working at shop yourself you’ve seen much worse things, you just glad that there isn’t any fuzzy mould on the bottle caps.

Quickly you open the sliding door and take out a boxed grape juice and a bottled flavoured water, the inked words ‘summer fruits’ smudged. You would love to have a milkshake right about now but you stay away from the milks on the bottom shelf, you face scrunching up in disgust.

You walk around the shop some more, not caring for any of the junk being sold. You do however find yourself at the sweets section. The little shelf is filled to the brim with colourful candy and plastic junk toys, everything from chocolate bars to lollypops shaped like diamond rings.

A small packet of hard boiled sweets catches your eyes, the red and white striped plastic bag reminiscent of the paper bags at fun fairs or cinema pick n’ mixes, the little clear window showing individually wrapped sweets in every colour known to man.

A yellowed price sticker sloppily placed over the logo says it’s only a dollar fifty so you pick the bag up to buy. You shove the bag between your fingers and the drinks, you other hand free with your wallet lodged between your arm and chest.

Slowly but surely, your eyes flickering all around to see if you’ve missed anything you might want as you arrive to the front counter.

The front counter is high up, a thick plastic pane with hand prints and unknown splashes of stuff shielding the man and the shelf filled with cigarettes from grabby hands and angry eyes of disgruntled customers. There’s a big enough a hole in the plastic that the man, a forty something year old with red irritated eyes and a bold spot a monk would be jealous of, can look at you with judging eyes whilst scanning your items.

“You better not want any alcohol Miss.” says the man. Despite his less than stellar looks he sounds more sad and fed up than judgemental or creepy, he probably get too many teenagers with fake ID’s coming in along with out of towners with visible guns on their hip.

“No alcohol just these-“ you say with an awkward smile, “-oh, but um is that for sale?”

Your eyes catch onto a flash of green hung sat snug in between a giant jug of vodka and a line of off brand cold remedies.

It’s a small first aid kit.

You point to it hoping that your finger isn’t pointing to the vodka.

“The first aid kit, yeah, it is.”

“How much?”

The man says the price making you visibly frown. The price isn’t much considering it’s a first aid kit but you’re not sure you have the right amount for it.

“I’ll take it.” you say as you place your items down and begin taking out handfuls of coins.

You know you are a dollar short as you recount your crumpled dollar bills. You look up to see that the man has already bagged your stuff including the first aid kit.

“I might have to put something back.” you sheepishly say.

“Nah, have it.” He passes you the bag, “If you’re needing a first aid kit then you’re needing it, you know? I don’t want anyone bleeding out because you were a dollar short and didn’t have it.”

“Thank you.” you’re really at a loss for words but you get you thanks out.

“I don’t own this place anyway, I only work here.” he says with the smirk of a man who often nicks a pack of smokes off the back shelf without the shop owner knowing.

You talk some more before walking out the shop, the pack of sweets already in hand, your fingers digging into the bag to find a sweet that isn’t strawberry flavoured. As soon as you pull out a bright green sweet you look up to see a pair of red rimmed steely blue eyes staring right at you.

Billy, eyes wide like a deer in the middle of a road watches intently as you walk over to his 79 Camaro (which is parked somewhat awkwardly in the wobbly lines of the parking space.) The car is parked close to the shop, right at the front of it in fact and ever since you were in the shop his gaze has been locked on the front door for the shop windows are covered in posters and adverts blocking any view of you inside he could have had.

For ten minutes Billy has been frozen still waiting for you to reappear so he can finally let out a long breath. He looks like he hasn’t blinked in the short time you were inside, his baby blues watery, the welling of tears threatening to spill once more.

“Want one?” you ask as you slide into the passenger seat, the bag of sweets shoved on the centre console closer to Billy.

Billy does not say anything, he just breathes like he just run a mile his chest heaving as large amounts of air enter his lungs.

“Billy?” you ponder, your voice small and quiet, “Billy.”

His eyes snap onto yours. For a moment you see something, a glimmer of fear maybe, in his eyes before his face droops.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ you begin, your body leaning over the centre console, hands grasping onto his arms as lightly as you can, “- you’re ok, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He looks like a wounded animal.

“Billy-“ you go to say something, something that probably wouldn’t help in the long run but something so he can hear you over his very present running mind.

Before you can though his right hand shoots up and grabs your forearm, his digits digging into your soft skin.

He doesn’t know if he wants your hands off him or if he’s forcing you not to move. Billy thinks for a long time his fingers flexing and relaxing but not letting go of your arm before said hand grabs at your own hand, his longer thicker fingers intertwining with yours in a death grip.

With you other hand, which you quickly take off his arm, you rifle through your plastic bag and pull out the two drinks along with the little first aid box.

“Here, take ‘um.” With your fingers aching from clutching three things at once Billy eventually takes the drinks and the first aid kit, his eye focusing on the first aid kit especially, “I have no clue what’s in the kit but I thought you could keep it in the car if you got in another fight…”

“…How do you know it was a fight?”

“Bruises that big don’t come from bumping into corners or falling down stairs.” you should know, you’ve bumped into many table corners and tripped down the stairs too many times to count and you’ve never gotten an injury that big and angry.

The car goes silent for a while the only sounds of you trying to quietly crunch the sweets and Billy unzipping the first aid kit to look inside it. There’s the normal inside; plasters that are an odd pale peach colour, gauze and safety pins, a couple individually wrapped antiseptic wipes, old yellowing instructions printed on thin paper and a small gel compress to help with swelling and aches.

“Thank you.” Billy whispers, his hands now clutching at the green first aid kit rather than your hand.

His eyes are trained down on the cross adoring the kit, the two drinks on his lap long forgotten.

“I-I know that home life ain’t that good-“ you start, not knowing exactly where you’re going with the conversation, “- but I’m here for you.“

“You don’t know what’s going on princess, you can’t help.” Billy says now looking at you.

“But I know about your dad, that’s how you got that isn’t it?” you vaguely point to his bruised eyes.

His eyes flicker away from yours giving you the answer you didn’t want but already knew.

“I don’t know much Billy-“ you duck down to catch his eyes, a small smile forming on your pretty face, “- but I do know that I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire because men like him wouldn’t even say thank after saving them, they’d just carry on like normal hurting and breaking everything in their way.”

Billy would have smirked at your words but his eyes have gone too wide in shock.

“Why don’t we skip maths hey?” you ask grabbing his hand in a warm but tight grip.

“Sure princess.” He finally replies with a small smile.

A/N: If you want a part four please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#not proof read #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things x plus size reader #stranger things #plus size reader #x plus size reader

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rapha3liii · 8 months

Text

Abigail, Emily & Haley! (part 1 of my bachelorette art!)

these are just my personal headcanons, mostly in line with my fic! the surnames are just ones I chose myself because I think these gals deserve a little more character :) Image descriptions and in-image text/captions are provided below!

Leah, Penny and Maru are next! (will get to the dudes eventually)

Abigail Mercer:

20 years old attending online university for Anthropology

tall compared to most villagers, even taller than her parents!

nose and bridge piercing done in Zuzu city

hearts drawn on with eyeliner

tattoo of thorned rose

Sam's old denim jacket, she cut the sleeves off with craft scissors

Amethyst gem-set sword commissioned from Marlon, her parents still haven't found it...

Silver bangle gifted from her mother

belly button piercing done by Emily in Sebastians basement, she definitely didn't get an infection from it-

sword tattoo inspired by the first sword she held

usually accompanied by her fathers retired leather satchel, holding her flute case and cool rocks she finds

her fishnets are the only thing shes ever bought from Joja Online and her dad is still mad about it

second hand doc-martins because her parents refused to spend that much on shoes (I don't blame em...)

Emily Larson

26 years old and the towns resident tailor

always wearing contacts!

average height

has helix, ear lobe and vertical eyebrow piercings

Always changing her hairstyle and colour, but blue seems to stick for longer than most!

She regularly attends ren-faires all over the republic

made this miniature cape for Zuzu ren-faire and hasn't stopped wearing it since...

hoop earrings and favourite lipstick given to her by her girlfriend, Sandy!

Wears lots of rings

obsessed with lantern sleeves!

always has her Nazar pendant on!

Acrylic nails are done by her younger sister, Haley!

exclusively wears gold jewellery

hand tailored dress and shirt

shoes are bought from a vintage clothes boutique in Grampleton

always wears her favourite ruffled petticoat under skirts

Haley Larson

18 years old and newly graduated from highschool, now a freelance photographer

shorter (and cuter!) than most

always wearing baby blue eyeshadow

shell necklace gifted to her by Alex, her best friend

cute face mole!

always wearing her grandma's bracelet

always using extra blush and face shimmer!

flowery blouse made by her sister, Emily

loves wearing mini-skirts, shorts and low-waist jeans!

regularly posts her landscape photography to her blog, and even won a local competition once!

her fav pleated skirt

loves swimming and paddleboarding in the sea by the beach!

despite graduating top of her class, she has little interest in academia - but loves art

really wants an ankle tattoo of a sea-shell!

cute strap heels she stole from her sisters wardrobe (Emily still hasn't realised yet)

[Image 1 ID: A digital drawing of Abigail from Stardew Valley holding a sword. She's smiling, with dark lipstick and purple eyeshadow, and has small hearts drawn on her cheeks in eyeliner. She has a bridge, nose and belly button piercing and blue eyes. She's wearing a sleeveless denim vest, with a black tank top underneath and black denim shorts with purple fishnets underneath. She has a tattoo of a rose on her upper right arm and another of a sword on her inner left calf. She has pointed black nails and two bangles on her right wrist. She has black platform boots and has a freckles all over her body. Her hair is a vibrant purple in waves reaching her lower back. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A digital drawing of Emily from Stardew Valley pinching her dress in both hands in a bowing like gesture. The left side of her head is shaved while the right has straight, blue shoulder length hair. She has purple eyeshadow, pink lipstick and brown eyes. She also has gold helix piercings, a gold vertical eyebrow piercing and golden hoops in her lobes. She is smirking and looking to the right. She is wearing a layered red dress with a long pleated skirt. It has a white ruffled petticoat underneath. Under her red dress is a pink shirt with lantern style sleeves. She has a corset on over the dress with golden buttons and a miniature cape in dark red clasped to her shoulders. Two necklaces are hanging from under her shirt collar, one golden chain and the other a pendent of a 'Nazar'. She has long sharp purple acrylic nails and multiple rings on both of her hands. She is wearing dark red heels with button clasped straps. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A digital drawing of Haley from Stardew Valley standing casually, smiling, with a tuft of her hair inbetween her fingers in one hand and blue eyes. She has golden blonde hair in waves just reaching her upper back. She has locks of hair over both of her shoulders. She has light blue eyeshadow and bright pink blush and lipstick, she also has a mole on her face just above her lips to the right. She is wearing a low crop blue blouse with short sleeves and a white lined flower pattern on it. She has pink nails and is wearing a necklace of a blue sea-shell with a golden chain and a bracelet with a golden chain and heart pendent. Her left arm is holding her hair while her right arm is crossed over her chest and resting on her other arm. She is wearing a pink pleated mini-skirt and blue heels with small straps around her ankles. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A digital drawing with the three previously described characters all standing in a line. The order is Abigail to the left, Emily in the middle and Haley to the right. Each character has their in-game character sprite by 'ConcernedApe' on the upper left to them. The artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is overlayed in three different places on the drawing. /. End ID]

This my first time ever writing image descriptions so please tell me how I did! I read some other blogs and advice prior to writing my own but I understand its likely I got some things wrong! Please let me know if I've formatted or written something in a way that makes the descriptions innacessible! Thankyou

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ghostradiodylan · 20 days

Note

I don’t know if you by chance know where to get some good quarry merch? But I found these really cute stickers and wanted to share with some other fans (and hope others will provide some links for other good stuff please I am so hungry)

https://ko-fi.com/s/0242c49d80

Those are so cute!!!

Link in case it doesn’t auto link from the ask! Quarry stickers by @dicentrasterisk

I really wish there was more Quarry merch available and also why is there no officially licensed Quarry merch?! Like SMG/2K where were you with that?! I see so many DPA collectibles on eBay but nothing from TQ!

Etsy has a few gems though.

How sick would this be with some red RIT dye splattered over it?

I bought this patch for my denim jacket. It’s perfect!

THEY’RE SO CUTE

Redbubble has a bunch of cute stickers and stuff of course but this shirt made me laugh a lot (despite being the wrong type of crane).

Source!

And of course my favorite merch that I own are my precious boys, my infected Rylan plushes from BlueWolfAngel but they’re on a brief hiatus it looks like. Blue also has really cute TQ keychains when they’re open!

Sharing earbuds forever. 💖

Everyone feel free to RB or comment with merch links if you make or have bought TQ stuff!

#the quarry #the quarry merch #fanmade merch #shut up and take my money #ask bunny #ask bunny about The Quarry #hello beautiful anon

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insomniaruler · 1 year

Text

3rd life support group

"I can't come, I have a meeting." Scott said as he took off his cape. the WRA looked at him like kicked puppies. "Guys, i'll be back later this is important to me." Scott said crossing his arms. "More important than us?" Sausage swooned. "yes this is a once a month meeting that I have to go to or they'll hunt me down." Scott said smirking with a shake of his head. "Who are you meeting with?" Pearl asked as she snooped through his chests. "theee... wood elves." Scott said after trailing off. "The wood elves?" Gem said, suspiciously. "Mhm, so shoo." Scott said waving his hand at them.

the Wither Rose Alliance stood outside of the great hall of Rivendell. "so are we going to follow him?" Fwhip said leaning against one of the pillars. "Obviously!" Sausage said. "yeah he's hiding something." Gem agreed. "hooray operation spy on Scott!" Pearl cheered.

five minutes later Scott left the Hall looking far different from the reserved king of Rivendell they knew. he was sporting a well worn fur-lined denim jacket covered in pins and a couple splats of paint. he was wearing dark brown linen pants, his ears were studded with tiny golden earrings, and his hair was pulled back in a half up half down style. his antlers were covered in poppies. and the weirdest thing was he was properly smiling. not his sarcastic smirk but a happy smile.

he walked into the woods and relaxed as he left his empire. soon they followed him to a clearing with a merrily cracking fire in the middle of it. but what really grabbed the WRA's attention were the two other men sat by the fire. Gem had to lunge at Fwhip and put a hand over his mouth before his overly loud gasp could be heard, because sitting by the fire was The Codfather without his codhead, in a much more civilian tunic and pants and The Mezealan king in a white undershirt and well loved leather vest, there was a very happy wolf at his feet accepting loving belly rubs. They both had no visible weapons

Pearl had to lunge at sausage before his gasp gave them away when Scott bent down and kissed the Codfather. "Hey Sunflower." "Ewwwwww." Joel said feigning gagging. "You are literally married." Scott said Flatly. Joel, the obvious height of maturity stuck his tongue out at the elf. "You are also 'Literally Married' " Joel said with intense air quotes. Jimmy just laughed. the WRA looked at each other in shock. had Scott double crossed them?

"not legally!" Jimmy argued with a wave of his finger. "blah blah you both know you're basically married in all eyes except the law. Grian and Scar sent you guys a wedding gift last month." Joel said. "that was your fault and you know it." Jimmy said. "listen all i asked Gem to do was to deliver a letter to Scar I didn't know he would tell Grian." Joel defended himself. the whole WRA looked at Gem who was not making eye contact.

"anything happening with you guys?" Jimmy asked, laying in the grass. "I miss my cabin." Joel said quietly. "I miss all my wolves. Shrub nearly caught me having a breakdown in her forest." Joel said shaking his head. "well you could ask her to camp in the forest?" Scott reasoned. "i think she knows i'm a king." Joel huffed. "it'd be weird if a king was camping in her forest." Joel muttered. the WRA sat dumbstruck, this was seemingly very personal information.

only the trio who were hiding in the bushes saw Joel sneaking up on Scott with a stick. and when he wacked the other over the head they expected their friend to blow up at the other king but he didn't just stare at Joel. before suddenly Scott lunged forward a stick also clutched in his hands.

they mock fought around the fire as The Codfather egged on his partner. "Get 'im Petal!" he cheered. "this is for our wall!" Scott crowed victoriously as he beat Joel over the head with the stick. "Well i'm sorry it couldn't hold up to light arson! it was just encouragement to build a stone wall!" Joel said holding up his hands against the on-slot. Scott began to chuckle darkly. and then quick as a whip threw the stick for the wolf. "Fear the cottagecore gay." Scott whispered.

"food's done!" Jimmy announced deftly moving the pieces of meat from the coals of the fire onto small wooden plates. "Thank you." Scott said leaning against the Codfolk and kissing him on the cheek. "Your welcome." the Codfather said leaning into the other's touch. "Give me the food Jimmy, i don't come here to watch you two be lovey dovey." Joel grouched. "If you want war you should come to our game nights we played Uno last time." Jimmy said with a chuckle. "Okay you were quite obviously cheating! you can't stack +2's!" Scott said pouting. "No." Jimmy said rolling his eyes. "No yes you can do that or yes no you admit to cheating?" Jimmy just blinked at Scott twice. The elf groaned and rolled his eyes.

as the sun passed noon Scott got to his feet. "See you tomorrow Sunflower." Scott said kissing the Codfather. "you got it Petal, good luck with building the village." Codfather said jumping to his feet. "Obviously." Scott said with a laugh. and with a swish Scott started walking back towards Rivendell. Joel and Jimmy began to clean up around the camp. They were talking too quiet for the WRA to hear but there were a few waving hands. "I am a king I can legally marry you two! you just need to bring paper work I can even bring rings! we have plenty of gold in the Mesa" Joel said. "alright fine- I was planning on proposing tomorrow night you can marry us at the next support group meeting if he says yes." Jimmy said blushing a furious red. "HA! Grian owes me 15 diamonds!" Joel yelled and punched Jimmy's shoulder. "yeah yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes. eventually the two went their separate ways and their spies popped out of the bushes.

The WRA exchanged glances before breaking out into loud conversation. Sausage was the loudest out of all of them.

"Holy bleep."

#empires smp #empires s1 #3rd life #flower husbands #shadowbeans #empires smp x 3rd life

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bellysoupset · 2 months

Note

hiii i have sooo many nice things to say about the new fics and about that laugh ask (ps. that was suchhh a sweet ask??) but i’m kinda losing my mind just thinking about how to get across how much I’m in love with your characters, so forgive me if i’m a bit inarticulate here:

are you trying to fucking kill me with vince?? stories and movies never make me cry but twice now with the vince-wendy saga you’ve made me tear up?? bella hugging him like that even though she’s pissed😭😭 vince crying😭 leo being the last braincell of the group 😭😭😭 and wendy my heart is breaking for you because this is such a Situation. also!!! luke! getting out of the house! hell yeah baby! i remember how much i first struggled with having my meds adjusted in the beginning so i feel so bad for luke :(

and leo and jon talking about getting married is killing me. like actually killing me with how cute they are. also saw a reel and thought of them : https://www.instagram.com/reel/C3uPKPerg_L/?igsh=Z3FiNWNrdDh5Yjdk

oh also their clothes make so much sense. leo my baby owning soo many denim jackets (2) is so cute. and jonah dressing like a rich fuck boy is so funny to me. girl what do you mean you chill in a tank top and a kimono 😭 i love his little diva ass

their laughs are sooo perfect for them all btw. (jonah giggling my beloved) (bell and luke getting stuck in a laughing spiral at each others laughs my BELOVED) okay will leave you to be in peace now <3🍄

What if I print this and then grab the printed paper (stay with me here) and the tear it into little pieces and then every day I'll eat one to have a happy pill???

🍄 MY BELOVED!!

The Vince storyline is being the gem of my eyes, because I really didn't think it would be this controversial and resonate with so many people?? I thought it'd be a quick and done conversation and here we are, like 10 stories in.

In all truth, I thought Luke's storyline was going to get the most rise lmao, but that's a happy surprise imho.

I must've rewatched the reel you sent like 10 times, that's SO Jonah/Leo!!! "he's tap dancing on my last nerve" SAY THAT

They're my little happy island right now, sooo in love and thriving.

#🍄 anon #lovely correspondence #i need to write a story where their fashion senses is like Important or makes a difference #not sure how but i Must

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petrichorade · 2 years

Text

Hitsuhina Week Day 2

Prompt: Comfort / What If?

What if they went to summer concert in the World of Living after the war?

To be honest, I kinda cheated for this since I used the finished piece that I already posted on Instagram, but anywaysss:

I have this headcanon where Shinji happens to see the concert announcement poster during the time he visited the Vizard in World of Living, and bought four tickets out of impulsiveness, thinking he wants to have some company with him since the concert were held in the middle of the reconstruction break. Unfortunately for him, all his Vizard buddies decline the offer, which leads him to ask his own lieutenant, and later people that will probably get along with both of them - none other than 10th Division!

Shinji offer Toshiro his last two concert tickets after the last Captain's meeting before break. Toshiro declines first, but right after Shinji mentioned Momo's name, you know what happened //lmao//

So yeah! Later on the D-Day, the four of them, Shinji, Momo, Toshiro and Rangiku, went to see the Jazz-themed Summer outdoor concert ♡♡♡ a perfect refreshing activity to heal both from the war, also handful months of Soul Society reconstruction (and before they need to face it again ><)

TMI: the summer concert idea came up in my head as I thought going to the beach seems to be a bit too mainstream for summer occasions (I have nothing against it, but I saw this prompt almost everywhere and I want something different for myself!)

Then later, I found a gem which is an instagram post made by Red Velvet Yeri where she attend an outdoor concert with her friend and Kpop singer Holland! Momo's maxi dress itself were actually fully inspired by Yeri's outfit that she wore to that event ^q^

As for Toshiro, I went on tiny research, scrolling through the Seoul Jazz Festival tag to see what kind of outfit people wear to go there (since I personally never been to proper general music concert in my whole life, only school cultural festival with performance in it) and once I knew people just wore normal outing clothes, I went with his beach outfit with addition of denim jacket //laughs//

#bleach #fanart #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #hitsuhina #bleach fanart #hitsuhina week 2022 #hitsuhina week #hitsuhina week day 2 #my art

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pinesfamilyguidetotheweird · 3 months

Text

Fragmented AU -- The Roadkill Mystery Club Members

I remembered doing this for my MHAxRWBY crossover, so I decided to do something similar here. Just some information in specific catagories.

General Info: Typically referring to some miscellaneous stuff pertaining to the AU, sometimes involving headcanons.

Typical Attire: What the character typically wears.

Items of Interest: What they often carry (especially for the club's investigations; you know those character templates that includes the items they often carry?)

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Dipper Pines

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in August)

His eyes are brown

Was put in a juvenile psych ward for two years

Has scars on his arms that he opts to cover when out in public

Still likes DD&MoreD, mysteries, and the supernatural

Has anxiety

The co-founder and de facto leader of the Roadkill Mystery Club

Typical Attire

His iconic pinetree cap

A blue flannel shirt that is typically opened. It’s made from plaidypus pelts.

A dull orange t-shirt

Digital watch

Laurel green capris

Black sneakers

White socks

An old, oversized navy denim jacket given to him by Stan (occasionally worn for cooler temps)

Stan claims it was from his biker days

Items of Interest

An old knapsack given to him by Ford

His teal journal. A silver pine tree is emblazoned on it.

A handkerchief

Swiss army knife

A teal walkie talkie

A flip-phone

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Mabel Pines

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in August)

Her eyes are brown

Lived with Grandpa Shermie for two years

Has knitted many sweaters for those two years

Still likes arts and crafts

Adept in knitting, sewing, crocheting (etc)

Has ADHD

Co-founder of the Roadkill Mystery Club and the self-proclaimed chancellor of fun

Typical Attire

Her iconic shooting star sweater (obviously interchangeable with her other sweaters)

Various cycling shorts to go with her sweaters

Various sleeveless shirts to go with her sweaters

Various headbands to go with her sweaters

Black mary janes

Items of Interest

A knitted tote bag (has a waterproof dry bag inside)

Sci-Fi grappling gun

Her dark magenta journal, lightly covered in glitter and stickers.

A glittery magenta walkie talkie

A sticker covered smartphone

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King Clawthorne

General Stuff

Age: 8 (often mistaken to be younger due to his small size)

He looks the same (like I am unwilling to change his general appearance for the AU. He’s so cute!)

He is not a Titan. Generally described to be more like a wolf of some sort.

Eda found him on a hidden island near East Asia

He is adopted by Eda, being both her son and student

Is learning to utilize a human disguise

Is mature and intelligent for his age (still a kid, though)

Has a collection of stuffies (his favorite is a bunny called Francois)

Knows some French

Typical Attire

Wears his collar

Eda’s old varsity jacket

Items of Interest

A belt bag

Charms and potion vials

Demonology booklet

Spells booklet

A yellow walkie-talkie with claw marks

A smart-phone

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Steven Universe

General Stuff

Age: 13 (soon 14 in August)

Has dark magenta eyes

Lives in Crystal Springs

Still a Human/Gem hybrid

Has ‘crystalline’ blood

While I was gonna make him the ‘Team Dad’ of the group, his nurturing nature probably has him fit the Team Mom mold better

Typical Attire

His pink shirt with a yellow star.

A salmon colored zip up hoodie for cooler temperatures

Jeans

Flip-flops

Items of Interest

His cheeseburger backpack

A pink walkie talkie

A smart-phone

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Connie Maheswaran

General Stuff

Age: 12 (a year younger than the twins)

Dark brown eyes

Lives near Stella Heights

Similar circumstances as Steven, I can see Connie as being the Team Dad of sorts, as she can come off a bit more strict than Steven (probably a trait she got from her mother, though not as bad)

Typical Attire

Her glasses

A blue neckerchief

A white sleeveless dress shirt

A blue skort (no this isn’t a typo)

White shoes with leg warmers

Occasionally a blue windbreaker jacket for low-temp weather

Items of Interest

A simple, bright yellow backpack

A blue walkie talkie

A flip-phone

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Sprig Plantar

General Stuff

Age: 12 (soon 13 in November)

Has gray blue eyes

Lives in Aurora Valley

Is human

Think of the appearance of ‘Twig’ in Anne’s Shut-In Story

His orange hair has grown out a smidge.

Has AuDHD

Has cataloged a lot of Roadkill County’s mysteries and is a fan of the Mystery Shack...although, he gets kicked out a lot for touching everything.

Typical Attire

His hat and goggles

A gray/dark gray striped long sleeve shirt

A forest green jacket

Dark forest green cargo shorts

Black combat boots

A necklace with three quartz crystals (red, blue, and green)

Items of Interest

A dark magenta gym sack

His violin case and violin

His slingshot (I did research and it is legal to have a slingshot in Oregon, at least against predators. And considering that Roadkill County contain some dangerous creatures…yeah, one’s gonna need some kind of protection)

A green walkie talkie

A smart-phone

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