#how would that affect the way he smokes? how would that affect his routine? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toomuchracket · 7 months

Text

falling for you (flatmate!matty x reader)

promptober day 10, and there was nobody else i could have written this for. a fluffy but slightly angsty pining lovesick moment, before the two of you are actually flatmates and you're just babies on nights out in manc. i hope you enjoy!

p.s. yeah, i know the pic is the wrong era for this, lol. but it's alllll about the vibes <3

matty's trying his damnedest not to stare at you right now.

he's failing miserably, though. the copious amount of alcohol in his body is rinsing all the sense out of his brain - well, what little you hadn't already stolen from him when you met him earlier outside your halls of residence, all made-up and glowing - and he really cannot tear his eyes away from you, saying bye to your friends at the door of the nightclub.

matty blinks, and self-awareness hits him like a freight train. nah. he's being weird. he needs to get a grip.

but then you turn towards him, waiting on behalf of both of you in the cloakroom queue, and you smile, and all thoughts about stopping looking at you fly out of matty's head. how can he be expected to focus on anything but that face of yours? the vodka's made your beautiful eyes softer, and a combination of marlboros and mac lipstick have made your lips pouty and kissable. well, more so than usual, matty thinks.

he's so distracted by your beauty that he almost doesn't hear the cloakroom attendant shout him up to the window. stumbling slightly - he'd say over his own feet, you'd say due to drunkenness (and you'd be right) - matty exchanges his two tickets for the jackets you and him had been all but forced to wear to prevent the freezing october air getting to you, and wanders over to you. wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed routine, he slings his own jacket over his shoulder as he helps you into yours.

you murmur a thank you. "you hungry?"

for you, yes. for a kebab, no, matty wishes he could say. but he can't, so he just shakes his head.

"neither am i," you say, helping him zip up his leather jacket. your dexterity has been diminished by your drinking, and one of the fringes on the sleeve of your own coat gets stuck between the metal teeth of his. clearly, your brain has also been affected by the alcohol; you frown at the zip, unable to see why it won't move. "huh?"

matty smiles, moving to help you. "got caught on your coat. sorry, darlin'."

"oh, s'fine. thanks," you reply, as you're unstuck once again. with a smile, you hold a hand out to matty. "shall we?"

like he'd ever say no to you. "we shall."

and the walk back to your uni begins.

if it had been raining, matty would have done the gentlemanly thing and sprung for a taxi. but it isn't, for once; actually, he thinks, it's kind of a perfect night. the sky is inky-black, devoid of any clouds, and the two of you are just drunk enough that the streetlights look just as pretty as the stars you can't see from so far into the city like this. he's more thankful for the cold air now than he was before the two of you went out - after the close heat of the nightclub, and the internal glow of the however many shots you did, the coolness is welcome. that, and it forces you to secure matty's hand in your own for warmth, which is maybe the most perfect aspect of the night, in his opinion.

naturally, then, a pang of heartbreak hits him when you break the hold to rifle through your handbag. when you procure a half-empty pack of cigs, though, it dissipates.

"want one?" you ask, holding the open end of the packet towards matty.

"no thanks, sweetheart," he says. he isn't lying: the thought of anything clouding his vision of you, even cigarette smoke, is unbearable. but then a spark of an idea crackles somewhere in his brain - whether it's in spite of or because of his tipsy state, matty isn't sure, but either way it tells him he shouldn't be so quick to refuse. so, tentatively, he continues speaking. "i'll gladly share one with you, though."

you take your time answering, slowly pulling a cig from the pack and shoving the rest back in your bag, then digging around for your lighter. matty chews his cheeks during this performance, terror that he's overstepped a friendship boundary of some sort beginning to creep up his spine. but then you shrug, and say "alright", and he's fine.

well, he's not fine, actually - the next words that leave your mouth are "need your help to light it, though, matty".

fuck. his hands so close to your jaw, close enough that he could take hold of it and kiss you before his brain could convince him that it was too much of a risk to your friendship? that's dangerous.

god, he's so drunk. and so definitely in love with you.

what matty is first and foremost, though, is a good friend. shoving down any and all romantic and/or sexual thoughts about you and your lips as best he can (which is, admittedly, not very well), he turns to face you and takes the lighter from your hand. "c'mere then."

when you oblige, silently, and look up at him with your lips parted and those sparkly doe eyes of yours, matty bites the inside of his lip so hard he feels it bleed. christ. this was perhaps a bad idea.

but the cig is right there, waiting to be lit, so he takes a deep breath, cupping the lighter as he flicks the flame into existence and brings it to your mouth. the orange glow illuminates you quite beautifully, and suddenly matty's head is filled with thoughts of you across from him, like you are now, but sat at a candlelit, white-clothed table with a glass of wine and a fancy dinner before you. and, if he's being honest, also with thoughts of you underneath him, face blissful and softly lit by the candles dotted around the room as he fucks you slowly and tenderly.

for fuck's sake. you're his best friend. he can't be thinking of you like that. why can't he stop thinking about you like that tonight? maybe he's going insane. he has no idea. but whatever is compelling him seems to lessen as you step back and exhale the smoke. "thank you, babe."

babe? that's new. but not unwelcome, not at all. matty feels his heart flutter at the pet name.

"s'alright," he smiles. now it's his turn to hold out a hand. "shall we keep going?"

"mhmm," you quickly take another puff of the cig, before sliding it between matty's lips with a giggle and taking his hand; you have to tug him forward a few paces before he regains control of his brain, but he quickly manages it, and the walk home continues.

for the most part, it's uneventful, aside from the alien feeling of your hand constantly in matty's. that is, until he tries to be clever and inhale the cig mid-conversation, and ends up exhaling directly in your face when you turn to listen to him without him fully noticing.

you cough a little bit when the smoke hits you, and matty panics (and internally facepalms. what a fucking idiot he is) as he throws the cig on the ground and stamps it out. "shit! i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i didn't mean that! you alright?"

"s'ok, i'm ok, don't worry," you assure him, waving away both his fretting and the lingering smoke. when it clears from in front of your face, matty's heartbeat increases as he takes in your amused smile and your even-more-sparkly-than-earlier eyes. you're beautiful. you're fucking glowing. and you're tucking yourself under his arm and cosying into his side as you walk. jesus christ. "this is a lot better for us, don't you think?"

matty's cheeks lift into a smile. "definitely."

it really is better, matty thinks, walking towards the front door of your halls with you snuggled into his chest. much like every other aspect of matty's life, you fit seamlessly into his side - you just feel so right there, so natural, as if the two of you were biologically designed to be together. maybe someday, he hopes, you will be; not two best friends traipsing into uni accommodation for a post-night out sleepover, but a pair of lovers heading home after a date.

he doubts that'll actually happen, given that he'd have to go through the impossible task of telling you how he feels first, but still. it's a nice distant daydream, one he's still giddily thinking about when you unlock the front door and pull him through several more until you reach your bedroom.

you groan when you flick the light on and see the state of your bed, makeup palettes and hair products and failed outfit options strewn across it. matty immediately jumps into problem-solving mode; anything to stop you being unhappy, after all. "where do you want all this stuff, darlin'?"

"the fucking floor," you grumble.

"so… where i'm meant to sleep?"

your head snaps up, and you catch matty's eye in the mirror as you take your earrings out. "well," you turn to face him, your expression… nervous? "you could just, y'know, share the bed with me."

oh. matty can feel his heart pounding in his ears, diminishing the volume of your continuing (and frantic) monologue: "i mean, i know it'll be tight cos it's a single, and you've always insisted on sleeping on the floor even when i've offered to let you have the bed, but it's really cold tonight and i wouldn't mind the extra heat, and at least if we're sharing i know you won't be freezing and you'll be comfy, yeah?"

"ok," matty says, despite barely registering anything you said in his fugue state. he's drunk, and lovesick, but he's not an idiot. "yeah. we'll share."

your face breaks into a relieved smile. "ok. good. um, before that, would you…?"

"oh, of course," matty darts over to you as quickly as he can, while you turn to face the mirror again and lift your hair up. slowly, with fingers fumbling just as much from nerves as from alcohol consumption, he undoes the zip on the back of your dress. the perfume still lingering on the back of your neck clouds his brain with every breath he takes, and the organ threatens to completely shut down when matty pulls the zip down low enough to reveal a lack of bra clasps underneath your outfit. once he's finished undoing you, he steps back while he still has the ability to do so, turning away from you. "there you go."

"thank you," comes the reply from behind him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and drawers opening. matty busies himself with carefully clearing your bed, only turning back round when you tap his arm; he smiles when he sees you in a big t-shirt, hair shoved up messily and makeup half-removed, holding out a pair of sweatpants he recognises as his. "you left these here last time. i thought you might want them to sleep in. and i did wash them, before you ask."

you roll your eyes as matty presses the trousers to his nose anyway as a joke - when he registers that his clothes now smell like you and your washing powder, however, it stops being funny in favour of being lovelorn-inducing. but his smile quickly returns when he properly notices the design on the t-shirt you're wearing. "i cannot believe you're wearing a drive like i do shirt to bed. thought you were more proud of me, to be honest, darlin'."

"of course i am, but it's comfy," you protest, brow furrowing in the most adorable way as you frown. it softens wistfully as you continue. "and it reminds me of home."

weird, matty thinks. you're not from- oh. christ.

he's home, to you.

what a fucking thought that is. matty's not quite sure how he's managing to stay sane, but he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug and stroking your back. "that's very lovely of you, sweetheart."

"s'just the truth," you reach up on tiptoe to pat matty on the head, before pulling away. he misses you immediately. "you wanna get ready for bed?"

does he ever.

matty nods, kicking his shoes off and quickly undressing while you climb into bed. despite the fact you've seen him in shorts and nothing else before, he wonders if he should feel self-conscious as he strips to his underwear in front of you; something's definitely different with the two of you tonight, matty's sure of it, and he can't quite tell if that's a good or bad thing. probably good, although that might be wishful thinking on his part, just like the way he's convinced your eyes linger on his torso with interest in the mirror when he takes his shirt off.

anyway. clad in his sweatpants and no more, matty climbs into your single bed. he tries to get as comfy as he can, facing away from and without touching you - whether that's to ensure your space and comfort or to stop himself from agonising over how much he likes you, matty has no idea. he isn't comfortable in the slightest, but he'll endure it.

you, on the other hand, have other ideas. with a sigh of "daft boy", you move forward so your body is against matty's back, slinging an arm and leg over his front and spooning him. "is this alright? i figured it was the best way to keep us warm."

"it's perfect, sweetheart," matty replies, and he isn't lying. despite how much it hurts being so close to you and repressing how he really feels about you, matty's surprisingly chill about the way you're clinging to him. cautiously, but feeling compelled to do so, he brings his hand up to stroke your thigh; when you hum contentedly, matty rests it there. "goodnight."

"mmm, night," you yawn out, the blanket of sleep falling on you fast. "love you."

matty smiles, half sadly, half dreamily. "love you too, darlin'."

the next day, he writes a new song.

#mads muses #mads does writing #promptober75 #flatmate!matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

356 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 6 months

Text

Three, Two, One: Part 2 of 3

Okay! This is ANGST. As soon as I saw the initial concept suggested by @terarria-sunflower I thought it was the most beautiful, playful, wonderful thing - and honestly, who wouldn't want to give the blonde chef a wee little smooch? HOWEVER, as soon as I wrote the first part, my mind immediately went to how that would look over time.

Word Count: 2,523

Warnings: Nicotine withdrawal, reassurance, angst, romance, sorrow.

Part 1 here, Masterlist here, Prompt here. "I Found" as the song accompaniment.

Over the next few days, the amount of public affection above decks between the two of you were demonstrated freely and recklessly. The egg-shaped timer was becoming a trigger for the rest of the crew to groan in disapproval, secretly relishing in the fact that Sanji no longer tainted the vessel with the thick smell of tobacco infused cigarette smoke clinging stalely to every crook and crevasse; while absolutely disgusted by the amount of overzealous intimacy was engaged between you.

Things were admittedly beginning to get out of hand. Hands, specifically Sanji’s, shamelessly roaming your body; pulling down the shoulder straps of your blouses to press feverish and hungry kisses against your collarbone and neck. Hands that grasped your waist and raked slowly and deliberately over your back and down towards your ass. Hands that began to toy at the hems of your skirts and pants to bring more flesh of your hips into light and expose your stomach for him to draw his fingertips towards more of your body; all to halt at the vibration and movement of the egg-shaped timer.

Groans and whimpers of dissatisfaction would flee from his lips as his time was complete with ravishing your body with his lips and tongue. His eyes were always completely blown with lust for more, but always staying true to the conditions you laid for engaging in intimacy. He would always halt his movements, raising his hands defensively while scrunching his eyes shut tightly as you let out a playful giggle at his actions. He couldn’t get enough of you, and you felt completely the same.

Nami was the first to suggest the two of you either save it for the kitchen, or join together in one another’s cabins to save the image of the two of you working to bring Sanji’s regular hit of endorphins and adrenaline from branding its image within the minds of the full crew. This led to Sanji, instead of presenting you with the egg timer and bouncing on the balls of his feet with giddy anticipation, to clasp his fingers around your wrist as he guided you to the nearest private area to engage in osculating with his lips firmly attached to you.

As his routine was meticulously catalogued within your journal, you did not live in fear of a pounce from the blonde chef out of the regular cycle of him asking for his hit at all hours. You noticed his movements were beginning to get hungrier and more desperate for the release of endorphins; his hands and body quivering lightly in anticipation and remaining that way after the duration was complete.

On the fourth day of you engaging in this game together; you noticed his body begin to shake more feverishly, his attitude no longer carefree but eclipsed by anxiety and restlessness. That was the first time you saw him unconsciously reach for his tobacco pouch and began to roll a cigarette out of his regular routine, halting as soon as his eyes fell over your body.

As soon as he found his fingertips grazing the pouch, he rose to his feet and set to briskly stride over towards you as you faced away from him. He snaked his arms around your waist and buried his head into your shoulder from behind; you raising your arms instinctively and stiffening under the shock of the firm embrace.

“Are you okay, Sanji?” you asked him quietly, prompting him to hold you further into himself and for you to tangibly feel how anxious his body was becoming.

The Going Merry had just successfully docked against the peer of a town to resupply a variety of items, including groceries on the vast list. Upon feeling how tightly Sanji clung to you and a small whimper falling from his lips; you immediately sought out the gaze of the navigator of your group.

“Nami,” you called to her, “we’re going to hang back here for a bit. Would you mind seeing to the groceries? I’ve written down the different items, please,” your eyes became wide and panicked, “I think we need a bit of time to ourselves here.”

Nami walked her way over to you, glancing towards the hidden face of the blonde chef and then falling her eyes back to you; an outstretched hand and a similar panicked expression falling over appearance.

“Withdrawals,” you mouthed to her, no audible vocalisation fleeing from your lips to alert the carefree Straw-Hat pirates about the chef’s current predicament.

“I think I can manage to convince Luffy to keep us docked for a few more days,” Nami uttered lowly, “could see about getting a suite at an inn.”

You nodded in affirmation of the thought and gestured down to the satchel with your logbook and coin purse attached to it, reaching to unclasp it from your shoulder. You realised that Sanji’s grip was too strong on your shoulder to remove the bag from your body completely.

“Sweetheart,” you turned your face towards him, keeping your tone as low and calm as you could, “if you could relinquish your hold for just a moment?”

Sanji’s hands shakily removed themselves from your waist, but remained his forehead attached to your shoulder. You quickly removed your satchel and held it out for Nami to take from your outstretched hand.

“Expense is a non-issue for groceries or board,” you nodded to her, “if you could do your best with as much of my berry as you need, we would really appreciate it.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Nami nodded, glancing over to Sanji as his teeth began to chatter together with concern before hardening her resolve.

Sanji again laced his arms around your waist, his hands spread with his fingers clutching to your skin as if you would disappear in a gust of wind to fall your body away from him. You brought your hands to rest atop his forearms, soothing over the bare skin that began to glisten with a cold sweat.

“Sanji,” you whispered to him, prompting a small whisp of a whimper to escape from his lips in response, “honey, can you get to the ship’s bathing quarters? We need to set to regulating your temperature.”

He stifled in a gasp at the suggestion, before you felt him nod into your shoulder; his warm breath tickling at your neck.

You took him by the hands and began to lead him below the deck towards the bathing quarters. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you immediately fled to the bath and began drawing the last reserves of fresh water currently available to fill the isolated porcelain tub for the blonde chef.

Sanji leant is back against the wood of the wall, hands shaking as his eyes closed tightly shut to fight the fever overtaking him.

“Sanji, sweetheart,” you cooed at him, prompting his eyes to meet with yours immediately, “I’ve drawn you a bath. Would you like me to leave while I-.”

“I-I didn’t think it’d be-,” he gasped out, his forearms being clutched within his hands, “-I can’t-,” His words halted within his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut again and found the words forming behind his lips, “-I need help.”

“I know,” you soothed him with your voice, reaching your arms out towards him in comfort, “I’m here to help you.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, reaching his arms towards you as you began aiding him in removing his clothes to prepare himself. You unclasped the buttons on his wrists, followed by loosening his black necktie and unbuttoning his shirt down to its place on his stomach. You reached for his belt and began to unbuckle it; the metallic hilt falling away from the leather strap with ease. You halted your next step, removing yourself from his body completely and stepping away.

“Sanji, I’m going to turn around now, okay?” you informed him; “you’re going to finish getting yourself undressed and hop into the water-.”

“-Please don’t leave,” his voice hoarsely commanded you, the last syllable halted by a small desperate sob, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you informed him soothingly, continuing to hold your gaze firmly on the wall in front of you, “and as much as I want to see you undressed, I refuse to do so in your current state; completely vulnerable and suffering with this,” you narrowed your eyes at the wall, “I’ll stay with you, and once you’re in the waters and covered by the cloudy liquid I’ve made with aromatics, I’ll turn back around and help you.”

Sanji released a breathy and shaken sigh through his lips before again uttering, “thank you,” in a small hushed whisper. You heard his clothes pool at the floor, his steps harsh against the bathroom floor as he began his decent into the water with an ungraceful thud; water splashing up the sides of the rim and fall onto the floor.

“I’m going to turn back around, alright?” you declared, but remained stationary until you heard him confirm he was ready to receive your help.

“Okay,” he sighed. You turned your body around to view him. His brows were furrowed, his teeth were chattering and his head was the only visible item above the shroud of the herbal waters eclipsing him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sighed in response, your brows downturned as you witnessed his distress, “I’m so sorry. I never meant for it to turn out this way-.”

“-I don’t blame you,” he snapped through clenched teeth, gritting them for every syllable, “this is my fault. It shouldn’t have gotten this out of hand.”

You instinctively reached your hand out for him, halting your action to not offer unwarranted touch in his state of complete vulnerability. You sighed and turned back around, sinking to sit on the floor with your back placed up against the wall of the raised porcelain tub. You drew your knees up towards your body and placed your elbows atop them, bending your right arm back to bring your chin to your wrist as you laced your left hand into your hair.

“I-,” you began, halting your words as a small pause fell over your chest, “-I am so sorry, Sanji.” Your eyes began to pool with a small glisten of tears as empathy struck you like an arrow to the heart at your crewman’s suffering.

“I didn’t think it was going to be like this,” you uttered quickly, a hiccup gathering at the intensity of your words, “I only ever wanted to just be playful with you. Just a game, I didn’t think you’d suffer like this-.”

“-Just a game?” he sighed out in a small whisper, one you nearly missed falling from his lips. His teeth chattered as his eyes snapped open; anxiety and desperation falling from his tone as he rose his torso up out of the water.

You released your hair from within your grasp and turned in your seated position to look up at him, flittering your gaze between his eyes.

“Is that all this is?” he asked you, his voice elevating and booming over you, “is that all I am to you? Something only here to entertain you?”

Your jaw began to quiver at the thought, your eyes widening in shock and sorrow, “Sanji, I-.”

“-I’m sorry,” he cut you off, his eyes attempting to soften while remaining in his manic state, “I-I think it’s just the nicotine leaving my system. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I didn’t think before-.”

“-Sanji, I love you,” you proclaimed, cutting his sentence short and rising to kneel beside the tub to bring your torso to rest flush against the porcelain, “I just want you to know that.”

You held the wall of the bathtub, feeling the warm steam rising from the hot water while the sides top frame remained cool to the touch. Sanji’s eyes widened in shock, floating his gaze between your two orbs as you brought yourself up towards him.

“I loved you from the moment I first flustered you. Your smile, Sanji,” you giggled forlornly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before promptly releasing it, “from the first pink blush I saw rise to your cheeks, I loved you.”

His lips parted as his jaw fell slack, his eyes beginning to glaze over with the mist of emotion falling to them. He urged his body closer to yours and falling his hands to rest beside your own at the edge of the bathtub.

“Why would I want to start this little game with anyone else?” you questioned him, arching your brow playfully with a small teeter of a bittersweet giggle followed by a small sniffle. Sanji placed his right hand over your left, warm from the bath as the water began to drip and fall down your forearm.

“You were never just a game to me, Sanji,” you nodded, falling your face away to gaze down at the checkered blue and white linoleum tiled floor, “it may have started that way, but I admit that I care so deeply for you-.”

“-I love you,” he confessed, reaching his left hand towards your chin to rise your eyes back to gaze at him, “I just want you to know that.”

You looked between his eyes and triangulated back to rest on his lips before returning your gaze back upwards to him. Hearing your words echoed back to you, falling from the lips of the man you adored was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, your heart immediately swooning at his words.

His expression was full of adoration, but remaining manic and anxious behind his eyes. His brow was littered with sweat from the heat of the bathwater, and also the release of the chemicals falling from his body.

“Let me help you overcome this, Sanji,” you whispered, “let me take care of you and once you’re well again, I’ll show you how much I truly, deeply, love you.”

A small whimper fell from his lips as he relinquished his hold on your chin with a nod, turning back to fall back within the waters and resubmerge his torso.

“Once I get through this,” he chuckled darkly, shutting his eyes and sighing as the bath aided him in regulating his temperature, “I’m going to destroy that bloody egg-timer.”

“Oh?” you asked him with a smile, quirking your brows up in question, “and why would you do a thing like that?”

“So when I take you into my arms to completely ravish you, worship you with my body,” he looked at you through the corner of his eyes, “I get to determine exactly how long I need to feel you against me.”

The fire within your chest began to rise upwards to blood your cheeks with its warm tint, a pit beginning to form in your lower abdomen; fluttering in anticipation and pool with desire at his suggestive expression.

“For now,” he shut his eyes with a small playful smirk, “you can set the timer and count down until that moment. Give us something to both look forward to, hm?"

Part 3 (smut)

#one piece #opla #opla fic #x reader #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji fic #one piece sanji #black leg sanji

379 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months

Text

A Family Thing | Yandere Blue Exorcist

Yukio Okumura has had to limit and expand his definition of family many times on his exorcist journey. His brother was the only constant, which he was fine with. That is until his own demonic half awakened. Now alongside his brother, his identity morphed again like his pointed ears. He did think this might happen but he couldn’t help but connect the dots. But you know who made it easier? (Y/n) Pheles.

You came to him and Rin on a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke. Literally. Wiping at your suit and tie you explained how the last demon you had fought had made its final stand in a churning pot of strawberry jam. You told them not to think about it too much.

With a smile that blinded them, you told of how you took a long trip around the world to meet the boys Mephisto was so keen on watching stalking. You gushed over them like the older sibling neither of them had. That is until you officially moved onto campus. Where exactly? That was never known for sure. All they could gather was that you were close enough to appear at a moment's notice to pinch their cheeks, ruffle their hair, and coo at them as they did their casual routine.

He knew it was easy for Rin to lean into you, who openly gave affection to him. Yukio knew he couldn’t react as warmly. Was it his fear? His maturity? He just couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. He thought you’d grow to love Rin more than him because of this only to be beautifully surprised when you lovingly held him in your arms.

“Hey, I love you both all the same. You’re my ducklings through and through! I’ve decided from this day on!”

Soon he was placed with that familiar ache when you waved goodbye from the window of their dorm on training camps. It was a good ache that affirmed the stringing demand that was creeping up his throat. He couldn’t let you leave them now.

He can pinpoint the exact moment when this feeling first bloomed in his heart. It was so long ago, if he was anyone else he would have written it off as simply being a child, which he did for awhile, but he knew it was something more. It was back in preschool, Rin had returned to the class after a violent outburst at some kid he later claimed was a bully. While the teacher and other students avoided him like the plague there was one who refused to leave. Following Rin from afar, slowly inching her coloring station toward his–he couldn’t tell anyone why this irked him so. He also couldn’t defend his meddling when he crumpled the flowers left in his twin's cubby. He was his brother, who was she to take that from him?

It was an ugly habit of obsession one he realized he shared with his brother, as Rin mused absentmindedly.

“Why…don’t we just keep them to ourselves, yeah? That way…they…won’t leave us.”

I mean it’d be bizarre if it weren’t for the two of them. With Rin’s inclination to have you baby him dividing your attention and his own perfectly timed conversations, it was nothing but a game to smother your ringing phone. Silencing it hours in advance so that any alarms or texts from whoever this 'persistent dude’ was. It was a tireless pursuit that seemed to unite him and Rin more than their shared demon heritage.

It came to a head on a Summers's day watching from afar as you chased Rin with a hose. Yukio was particularly peeved not because he wasn’t on duty for distracting you that day he totally was but because your phone had been ringing off the chain. And whoever this mysterious caller was had caught on, texting you with random excuses about a glitching phone. Every time. He. Deleted. The contact.

“You think you can keep this up?”

The coy question came from a familiar white terrier with a pink polka-dotted bow. Yukio groaned, harshly pushing up his glasses and biting back a snarl of his own.

“Do you know who Denji is?”

The terrier's ears flattened and if it was possible its eye furrowed in anger. After a minute of likened frustration, an idea was spawned. Bringing a metaphorical smile to the dog’s face as he birthed a plan only obsessed freaks would concoct.

“So? Will you help me?”

“Fine. But you can’t keep them to yourself. We won’t let you.”

“Of course not. I could only wish.”

It wasn’t long before there were some changes: a ring on your finger, you carrying that stupid dog around with you, and wearing strangely bright accessories that most certainly weren’t yours. All indicative of the newest addition in your life–a fiance named Mephisto Pheles. The principal and their current guardian: Mephisto Pheles.

Suddenly Yukio and Rin are subjected to chaotic dinners with you and Mephisto. Days that were previously filled with your voice encouraging them were complimented by Mephisto’s ominous laughing and playful insults. But you were there and you were theirs, a promise you firmly upheld whenever you began an uncomfortable talk about your relationship.

And even as you reached over your purple-haired husband to wave goodbye, blowing kisses as the limousine revved up, Yukio notes the sound of unsatisfied obsession. Watching the hands that linger around your waist and the caked-up makeup on your neck. He makes the realization that this too was a case of that feeling bubbling to the surface. The obsessive arm around your shoulders, the out-of-place stickers on your things, and the oddly convenient way Mephisto was always at the door, waiting to escort you home.

It dawns on him how similar they are. Perhaps the string of obsession was a family thing. He didn’t entirely hate that.

“Welcome to the family (Y/n).”

#yandere blue exorcist #yandere ao no exorcist #yandere mephisto #yandere mephistopheles #yandere mephisto pheles #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere yukio okumura #yandere yukio #yandere rin #yandere rin okumura

280 notes · View notes

wandixx · 2 months

Text

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 4

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 2999

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Dani haven't considered how hard it can be to save people from house fire

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

Trigger warnings: house fire, panic attacks, temporary character death (am I over dramatic to say this if background child character's heart stops for a long moment and Dani hears it?) slight dissociation (tell me if I missed something, I'll fix it)

Dani proved to be useful addition to Duke’s patrol routine even though she couldn’t always join him, had very little actual training and was a certified mess most of the time. It was nice to banter with her in the free time, she did help when needed and her enhanced hearing was great in finding trouble he would otherwise overlook. She also often brought snacks (he did too, because girl had no idea what was healthy and in the love of god, if he didn’t try to get her in better habits).

“Fire on seven. Some people are stuck inside,” Dani blurted out and flew faster than baseline person should be able to withstand. Duke run and grappled after orange blur she became. It was less than perfect that she couldn’t tell more specifically where things were going down, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t train.

They rarely intervened with fires, unlike Gotham’s police and CPS, firefighters here worked pretty great. Dani knew this, so her going there in the first place meant something was up.

On a fly he grabbed his gas mask. It was made to withstand Scarecrow and Joker when they released their toxins and not smoke so it should do its job. He hoped that Dani would stop before entering so he could give her spare mask and well, coordinate. But she didn’t, of course. What did he expect from kid who body tackled Joker’s goon without second thought about idk, four other goons with guns being in the same room! He only saw end of her cape in between flames when he swung to the right street. Duke made sure his mask was secure when he stopped on a nearest save rooftop to assess the situation. Fire was too big to be put out with personal means like fire extinguishers so all they could do was to evacuate.

“Hoopoe, you reckless idiot, don’t die in here,” he muttered, sure she would hear him before grappling inside too.

***

About five seconds after entering building, Dani decided that she didn’t like fires. It probably came from her time in Amity but she was far more comfortable when she could beat the root of the problem into submission. Also, it was surprisingly loud, like need-to-cover-her-ears-for-a-hot-moment type of loud. Not louder than a rogue attack, it would be really hard to beat that level of noise but fire was worse in some way. It was somewhat similar to nails on a blackboard. Not in a sound per se but in a vibe she got from it. How she couldn’t tune it out like she usually did.

She straightened herself and dove ahead to the nearest person she heard. Smoke rendered her eyes nearly absolutely useless. Though she saw, heard and felt enough to find safe routes. Of course she could go intangible and in theory wouldn’t be affected by anything from physical realm but even when intangible fire kept burning for some reason and she would prefer to stay raw to being crispy. Rescued people should stay unfried too.

She didn’t quite remember first few rescues, just that it went smoothly, she took a leaf from Danny’s book, throwing some puns and references she didn��t quite knew but from context thought they would fit. Then once outside, she kept telling them to wait for paramedics and went back inside. She was more and more on edge for some reason.

She was really glad she didn’t need to breathe as much.

Middle-aged man grabbed her arm and shook her violently, asking to save his children.

“Fourth floor, fifth window to the left. Please save them!” man cried. Dani felt kinda like snapping but took deep breath to stop herself from it. Signal would be disappointed if she yelled at panicking civilian. She could kinda relate to the man anyway. She was probably also panicking.

“I’ll save them, I promise,” she said instead, phasing out of his grip.

She heard them, little boy weakly whispering to his sister that everything would be alright as soon as the heroes would get to them. His voice was hoarse, choked, interrupted by shallow breaths while the girl sobbed. Dani darted their way. Fire unit and medics were finally getting closer.

Girl yelled when caped hero appeared in room full of smoke. They both were sitting, older boy slightly swaying.

“It’s okay, I’m here to get you out to your dad,” she soothed, grabbing them both into a hug like carry. She barely jumped away from under the crushed lamp that fell where they were half a second before. Girl yelped.

“It’s okay, I got you, it’s okay,” she muttered, hoisting kids into more comfortable position. She flew nearest way out of the rom, looking for a clear spot on an outer wall. Her stomach dropped and core spasmed when she realized that boy stopped breathing, going limp in her arms. She was panicking throughout whole of this fire rescuing mess but only then she became frantic.

Maybe it was because of the smoke that kept cluging in her throat. She didn’t need to breathe as often but now she felt like she was suffocating and was suddenly all too aware of each bit of air she managed to swallow in her lungs.

She almost dropped when they finally got out. It took less than a second for her to fly to the kids’ father. She put girl down a little to hastily before gently laying boy n the pavement. Adult was beginning to hyperventilate and honestly Dani wasn’t too far behind him. She wished Signal was there. He would know what to do. Dani only had been on one first-aid course and she spent the better part of it on reviewing memes.

She had to remember something!

Breaths! She had to make absolutely sure if he was breathing!

She remembered practicing this one, so she did as instructed, counting to fifteen instedad of ten for a good measure. Then to twenty just to be safe. She knew she was counting too fast anyway.

Boy wasn’t breathing.

He wasn’t breathing!

She wished her ears were deceiving her but there was no heartbeat too!

What was she supposed to do now?!

Oh, right, she remembered chest compression thing from movies. She could do it.

Someone yanked her back, so hard she almost hit her head.

“You’re doing it wrong. I’m nurse, I’ll do it,” young woman declared, already kneeling were Dani was mere seconds ago, unzipped boy’s hoodie and got to work. Only then halfa realized that they got circled by small crowd of people rescued from building. Two of them were calming boy’s family down. She would use some comforting too.

She scrambled to her feet, racing out the crowd. Nobody even glanced her way.

She turned around and flew back inside the burning building.

Why did it feel like running away?

First ambulance arrived three rescues after the boy. Dani was so relieved she had to stop for a moment because her knees buckled and flight betrayed her for a hot second. She heard only four other people inside and Signal. They would finish soon enough.

Good.

Her head was spinning slightly.

“Congratulations, you are being rescued, please do not resist” she announced with forced confidence, appearing next to the man who probably was in a gang. Thankfully he didn’t fight her. When she was back in Central City one of the Flashes told her to make sure that people know she was trying to help them especially if they seemed like the type to choose fight over other crisis responses. This man certainly did. He almost punched her anyway.

Next was boy who was far too little to be left alone. She gave him her cape. She assumed he could use the comfort it gave her. There was a reason she choose comfiest blanket to this role.

She heard Signal making his way to the last victim but for some reason it was slow going. She flew up there after the last reassuring words to the boy.

She learned why Signal got stuck about three seconds after appearing on the right floor. It was a literal epicenter or whatever it was called. The root of the problem. The literal Hell on earth. Dani stopped for a moment, downed by the coughing fit and tears making her sight absolutely useless.

Signal was talking to someone. Asking them to calm down. She wasn’t sure. Dani forced herself to stand up and go see what was happening. She was probably swaying a little.

There was young woman in the middle of the fire. There was no scent of burning skin or hair so Dani assumed there were some powers involved. Thankfully most likely she wasn't a ghost. Dani wasn’t in the right headspace to fight a ghost and as cool and competent as Signal was, he couldn’t fight ghosts either.

Woman was visibly terrified. She kept screaming, begging Signal to go away because she was too dangerous to be so close. Hero tried to talk her down. She yelled that it was all her fault and she shouldn’t be saved.

Oh.

Woman had to just learn about her ability and lost control over it. Go big or go home, right? She didn’t exactly have home anymore so…

Dani barely kept herself from hysterical laughter.

Ghost fights were so, so much easier, she just had to beat the cause of the problem into submission and trap it in the thermos. No persuade it into stopping.

It was all too hot, too loud, too suffocating.

Dani could barely think.

Creaking of the ceiling boomed through her brain, somehow getting over the overwhelming cackle of fire that made her just want to hide in the corner and cry, even ignoring absolute onslaught to her other senses.

Ceiling was going to fall down and crush all of them.

Dani could barely think, so she didn’t.

She forgot to turn intangible when she crushed through window, meta woman held tightly in her arms. Thank Ancients she was durable enough to not break her head for that. Signal could handle himself. Hopefully.

Dani gasped on fresh air. She felt lightheaded, barely cognizant from instinctual relief to be out. She was free falling, her body limp, eyes half-closed, wind rushing in her ears and on her face. It was paralyzing but not in a bad way.

It felt good.

It felt like freedom.

It felt like something she could do for the rest of eternity.

It felt-

“HOOPOE!” panicked yell cut through her haze.

Right.

She was plummeting to the ground. She held someone. They would die when they crushed.

She should stop falling.

Could she do it?

She had to.

She dropped off the blue haired woman with the nearest medic squad and ran. Or flew. She wasn’t quite sure. Her brain still didn’t feel right. But she knew she had to leave.

Next thing she knew was the pain from practically collapsing on a wall and dumpster she hid behind. From what, she had no idea. She had no idea about anything.

So she did only thing she still could.

Dani cried.

***

Duke was getting frantic in his search for Dani after that room collapsed. He knew she made it out, he saw her falling head first to the ground. He was trying to catch her but he knew he couldn’t do it on time. And then she caught herself, left Abigail with medics and flew away in a blur. And Duke couldn’t go right after her because some cop had questions. Duke did his best to wrap it up quickly but still by the time he could look Hoopoe was nowhere to be seen. He was straining his eyes trying to see any sign of her but other than the boy with her cape as a blanket there was nothing. He was tempted to ask Babs for help.

Scratch that, he didn’t have time to do this on his own. Pride and this stupid bet be damned. He turned on his comm, not bothering to go off the main channel.

“Oracle, I need you to search for white-haired preteen girl dressed in white and black. Somewhere near Rossaire street. Probably there will be no clear footage”

“Need help in search?” Steph chimed in gently “Spoiler can be there five minutes flat”

Duke considered it for a moment. Steph knew how Dani looked (as much as anyone who saw her only in photos could know how she looked) and wanted to meet girl anyway. She could be useful help. On the other hand, she mentioned before she had some important stuff. And he wasn’t sure how Dani would react to someone unknown finding her in this state. Last thing he wanted was scaring girl even more. He searched road for Dani’s past light, again.

“No, don’t worry. She just got a little overwhelmed”

“Alright, good luck with finding your kid then”

“She is not my kid!”

“Signal who-” Bruce grunted but got interrupted by Babs.

“Turn right, she entered blind zone but I can lead you there”

“Thanks O”

“No invisibility?” Steph mused.

“Thank God for that,” Duke answered, while grappling to the left. He shoot forward as fast as he could ”Or maybe not. She has to be quite out of it”

“Left again”

“Signal, who are you looking for?” Bruce asked again.

“Next alley to the right. It’s the last place I can see her”

“Thanks O.”

“Signal-”

“Later B.”

Duke landed in the alley, turning his comm off. He knew that sooner rather than later he would have to explain himself and would probably get endless teasing but it wasn’t important at the time. He searched again for past light. He run after glimpses. He stopped when he heard sniffle from behind a dumpster. He slowed down, approaching loudly. It wouldn’t do any good to scare her.

“Hoopoe?”

Her breath hitched. Duke sat down next to her far enough to not invide her personal space but close enough to make her feel not alone.

Her face was black from ashes and smoke other than where her mask was and cleaner tracks her tears were making.

Her mask was laying on a ground (clearly forcefully thorn off which ouch), cape obviously nowhere in sight. When she calmed down, he would ask what happened with it. It would probably be a good distraction. But not now.

“Hey kid. Can you try breathing a little slower for me?”

She mumbled something, inaudible between loud wheezing.

“I know it’s hard but I’m sure you can do it. Who if not you?”

Girl visibly tried, shifting around as if she tried to find some much needed comfort. Clearly, the lack of pressure her cape was giving her wasn’t helping.

“How about you try putting hand on my chest and matching my breathing? It often helps”

She moved her hand and he led it to his chest. Dani shuddered.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements Duke extended his arm and put it across Dani’s shoulders. Girl leaned into it with choked sobs.

“I know it was scary,” he muttered as she shook silently “You did so well, Dani”

Girl let out quiet, high-pitched whine that didn’t sound quite human, trapping him in the hug much stronger than child her age should manage. He rubbed her back gently.

They sat in silence, as girl relaxed a bit.

“I officially despise fires. Just not my vibes, y'know,” was the first thing she managed to say. Duke smiled, still trying to comfort her. He knew far too well what she was trying to do. He let her. Every hero needed to retreat to humor every once in a while. Majority of his family and associated vigilantes did it constantly.

“Right here with you”

She looked at him, searching for something on what little she could see on his face.

“You see more, don’t you?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer “It was too much even with normal eyes. How can you be so calm?”

“I have normal ears and after fifth or tenth time it loses its charm”

“Yeah, okay,” she wheezed out “I didn’t expect the fire to be so loud. And smoke was a bit much in terms of texture and smell and everything”

“I would give you a mask if you waited, you know?”

He felt more than saw how she shrugged. It seemed like she wasn’t exactly listening to him anymore.

“But since you didn’t, we should get you looked up by some professional. You breathed in some nasty stuff”

Dani didn’t respond. Then she sprung up with gasp, a little out of his grasp, not standing but sitting straighter. She grinned, wide, eased thing gracing her lips as fresh tears began to create new paths on her dirty cheeks. She let out a choked laugh, more sign of relief or release of tension than actual happiness. It sounded rougher than usual, probably because of smoke and ashes aggravating her throat.

He wanted to ask what was up but it felt like the wrong time for it.

“He is breathing again” Dani cheered gently, as if unsure before repeating loudly, letting herself believe “THE BOY IS BREATHING AGAIN!”

Girl was shaking again, no bothering with drying tears this time.

Duke could guess what happened. He didn’t want to think about it too hard.

“It’s great to hear”

“Yup!” she grinned between fat tears.

They sat in silence as Dani gradually calmed down again. He knew she didn’t feel all that well yet, she couldn’t but she was probably calm enough to not break down in the middle of the BatBurger.

“I think this day counts as quite bad one,” girl said, wheezing a bit. Duke smiled, knowing where this was going. He ruffled her hair.

“Yeah, I think so too”

None of them said anything for a long moment.

“You’re up for a ‘bad day combo’ Gotham style, Hoopoe?”

“Yup” she smiled.

********

Apartment building: *is on fire*

Dani: It can't be that bad

Narrator voice: It was in fact, much worse

Kid, whose heart stopped thankfully didn't have too many issues tied to it and nothing life treatening long term. Every person who was in the building during fire left relatively unscathed. This fic is supposed to be mostly fluff I'm not killing anyone

Kid who got Dani's cape-blanket refused to phisically let go of it for solid two weeks. Later it still had to be in his sight. Understandable since his life went of the rails and did it hard. Kids ripe age of seven shouldn't be home alone. Especially not for whole day...

Dani: *still clearly shaken* Does your bad day combo include fries?

Duke, on his way to The "I had mental breakdown and need calories" Waffle Foodtrack: No, but we can change it!

Underpayed BatBurger employee: ...

Duke&Dani looking like they've just returned from war:...

Underpayed BatBurger employee: ...

Duke&Dani:...

Underpayed BatBurger employee: *deciding they don't have enough mental energy to care* Welcome to the BatBurger, can I take your bat-order?

Duke: One kids meal, please

Employee at The "I just had mental breakdown and need calories" Waffle Foodtrack, used to seeing Bats crying: *sees Hoopoe munching on her fries but in a sad way* Ah, babiest one got christened by fire already?

Employee: *takes out notebook to note down crazy combo this kid will come up with**they have every Gotham vigilante in here*

Dani: I haven't had a waffle ever before so maybe nuttella and whipped cream? I don't know, sweet?

Employee, offended: Let me surprise you.

It was great waffle, sweet enough to give sugar rush quite big group of preschoolers. It had marshmallows, sprinkles, whipped cream, jellybeans, whatever else this person on the mission found and could mix. Dani absolutely loved and devoured it.

I finally didn't forget to add read more!!!

I really want to draw Dani and Duke togheter but I can't find any pose references that satisfied me. Do you have any good ones? Can be chibi though preferably not

Next part

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he cares about her deeply #no jokes for this part tags either #though I hope you had fun at Waffle Foodtruck #hoopoe's cape shock blanket #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

134 notes · View notes

phramboise · 4 months

Text

only lovers left alive — simon”ghost”rileyxfem!reader

Death, gore, MDNI, smut, established past relationship, vague comfort?, 3.3k words.

: you’ve been sleeping for long enough, and he always noticed. maybe you’ll not only love the winter days anymore.

...

A fish, and a man. Both on the surface of the dirty water, both reek of ammonia and disturbed flesh. Both rotting, and stomach inflated, but the man’s are clearer in sight, vivid. More violent, primal, disgusting. As if all the colour is dulled around for him to put on a show of his defeated stage. Skin unnaturally yellow, arms sprawled out, the body still intact with his skeleton in blisters. Deranged, a man who stains the water he’s in. And a fish. Both dead, but the fish saddens her more. Both are dead, and both by her, but the fish saddens her more.

For she didn’t even notice it as she killed it, for love is violent and much kills, but she was young enough, or maybe such emotion is foreign, novel to her. She killed it anyhow. The fish obliges, tastes the attention, in a symbiotic affection with her. But it swims more around the edges on the tank as days go by, swims higher on the surface, until one fin lays smooth on its side, not moving, until it can’t swim straight, and until it dies.

The man is still in the water, his face down. She can see what he would look like in a few weeks, that he would decompose slower in cold, no vultures around to dig on his skin. She can imagine the soapy glaze his flesh would have, and the green, and the violet. Hypothermia. Petrification. Bisection. And a hound, it’s mouth wet and sticky, dribbling in red and saliva. She can see the skeleton sneaking out the flesh as the hyenas around shake their furs, off the blood and the water. Loyal and starving, a rabid dog in need of someone to find its way back to —

Her machete, on the other hand, is very much so alive, painting red rivulets on the snow-white ground. Sharp colour stripes off the chrome, turns into a deep velvet on earth, her hair is soiled, and her body is covered in red splotches, on her knees as she eyes the handiwork, trying to stay conscious, alert. She kicks her feet to clean the bits of the man off herself too. A roar in her ears and her temples feel like it’s her brain that’s splintered with a machete inside, eyes twitch as she stares at the man’s gouged one. And she tries to cough it off, coughs and coughs until she starts to gag, looking away from the scenery which she is the master to. She rubs her palms, rips the dead man off his gloves for hers are soaked in blood.

She’s better a gun than she is a person. Horror in her bane, she’s a better swordslayer than she is human. A little girl with fish food, or another with a rusty machete, she’s both. Can’t say she takes pride in neither, but the man doesn’t upset her in anyhow.

;;

It takes one more night to look up without a ceiling, before you get your way back, before the static of your comm buzzes again, the familiar voice, and the authority he embodies mercilessly. The Lieutenant. A pleasant sizzle follows his voice through, your eyes shot close as you feel through the gear with both hands to reach the radio, pressing the cold plastic to your ear. He disperses the smoke in your mind that dwells about the throes of your own demise, the thought of if this is how death will feel for you. He guides you, the way through the fuming howl of the tundra, becomes your sun chariot, your servant of peace and light, meeting you halfway, and when you encounter he doesn’t ask you to cradle you, does it naturally as he sees you. Sleight of hand, you don’t bother. You need a trace to make you believe in him, a keepsake of the times where he had done it so willingly. Something to hold you back to routine, to life. You’ve been sleeping long enough, he notices. He wakes you gently, rocks you kindly with hands you’re sure that has seen much more than yours did. But he wakes you kindly, a soothing hand lands on your nape, steadies you into this realm. You don’t pull back, and you don’t notice the build-up, the tension on you. But only the release.

You don’t know why you cry. He doesn’t say it to you between countless mantras over and over of how he thought he lost you, again, but you know it eases him to see an emotion on your face, and you feel it too, however ugly you think you wail. You need to breathe to cry. You breathe to cry. You said you don’t want him anymore, but no one would breathe in your scent like he survives on it with his head heavy on your shoulder, no one would kiss the dried blood on your brow and your matted hair. You know no one would blow warmth on your cold-stiff palms, not like he does. No one would waste himself, on you. No one would lend their blood to heat yours. You never said someone would anyway.

Adrenaline imperceptibly loses its grip on you, subsides and alters into pain. It creeps under your skin, trembles on your chin and prickles your eyes, making its presence known. Your step loses momentum as you lend your weight on him, and he grabs you with very capable hands.

After wails turn into mulled cries, and they turn into woeful moans, he lifts your head off his chest, leans his forehead against yours, gives you a few breaths, gives your forehead a kiss, stays a few moments until your heart thumps steadily to his, then pulls back. He nods slowly as you loosen your grip on him. Pulls his mask down again, he walks you through the icy terrain in hasty affection, shelters you in the safehouse.

;

First thing he does after he settles you on the fur seat, is to take off the foreign gloves off your frostbite fingers, throws them in the rusty barrel’s fire, burns it clean. Blood sticks onto his fingers and he wastes no time taking his gloves out his pocket to wear it on your hands. Its lengthy fingers swallow yours, and you look down at the thick fabric that adorns your hands as he wipes the blood off your face. You notice he wears no gloves, and you wear his now. A silent compliance in the way you sit, you only hiss when the dried clots pull the strands of your hair as he drags the cloth slowly along your skin. He reaches, taking each hand of yours in his, examining carefully, running his fingers over the lines of your palms. A futile tremor goes through him as he kneels before you, letting out a slow, shaky sigh as he disrobes you off your soaked wet gear, clads you with his spare. He doesn’t ask for a thing in return, and you only watch the tail of his tattoo through the exposed skin of his wrist as his hands hover over your elbows. He lowers his gaze, frees his messed hair out his balaclava, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He bites his cheek in thought, and you slither your palm to his cheek. He goes still before he looks up at you, big brown eyes and fanned lashes melt golden under the fire burning at the middle of the room. He blinks, then his bare fingers skate between yours, interweaves his fingers through the gaps between your own, he nudges at the fabric that coats your wrist, pushing the cloth up with his nose so his lips meet the inside of your wrist. You let out a faint breath, and it flutters his hair as he lays his head gently on your thighs, sitting on the concrete.

You play around with the little beads of the metal of his dog tags, and he moves his unoccupied hand around the side of your leg, pressing his cheek further onto the warmth that slowly comes back to your body. Under your imperious gaze, he rests his eyes, and you sink back onto the mattress, finally breathing the way you should.

;;

The plume of the dusty covering tightens your nose, and you wake with the scent of the bitter miasma of the bloodied gloves in the fire, scorching the sticky liquid, churning in your nostrils. The air is heavy, and the interior is plain. The cold outside whispers through the uncaulked edges of the wooden window, and you rest your eyes a moment longer before searching for the abandon of Simon’s warmth,

Only to find him sitting on a log next to a woodpile outside, elbows nested against his knees, minding the floor as he smokes. Silent as you walk towards, you cut him off his smoke as you reach your hand over his shoulder, behind him. He twists around to watch you circle behind him, eyes on you as you slide your fingertips along his neck, not letting you out his sight as you sit on the smaller log next him.

His cigarette toys you between his lips, and you lean to brush your lips right above his jaw. He turns a bit more to your side, slides the log you sit on closer to his. And when you take his glove off your hand to give it to him, he only takes one to wear to the hand that’s not close to yours, and holds your bare hand with his unclothed one, then drapes his arm along your shoulders, that holds the cigarette. Moving it to your lips, eyes fixated on you, he has two vices again. You and the smoke. But you’re only here to get your only one back. Hand clasps the collar of his coat, this one is longer, a proper kiss, an impossibly slow caress on his cheek, closer to his lips this time. One that says thank you. You see his throat move when he hitches, leaves a long breath as he can’t contain it. He dulls the ember of the smoke in a second, then his hand finds your face, holding you to him by the pull of his arm threaded behind your shoulder. He steeples his fingers under your chin, moves his head, leans in, and stills when there’s only a breath’s width between your longing lips. And before he closes that, he looks at your expression. This close, you’re realer, truer, and ever so far still. Closed-eyed, waiting, wanting. He draws in your whine, holds it a second longer for his mind to never forget this moment too, along many others with you.

How easily you got him wound up.

When he brings your lips together, his breath shudders. He surges forward, the cold tip of his nose digs on your cheek, and you taste your name as he groans it on your parting lips, hand on your chin winces, and reaches to your cheek, angling your head deeper onto him, his lips slip on yours without friction. Your hand on his collar falls down to his knee, and he turns fully towards you as you slither it up to his thigh, kissing as you hook your bare thumb around the clasp of his belt, feeling the band beneath the trousers. The rough surface sends frictions between your thighs when he pulls you towards him on the log you sit on, and you cling onto him tighter.

He parts with a sound of your wet lips separating, for a moment, brushes his thumbs on your gentle eyelids, warm cheeks. Searching for any sign on your face that disapproves, that doesn’t want this as much as he does. You only slip your cold palm under his t-shirt.

“God…”

A firm grip encircles your waist, and he scoops you bodily, rushes back in the one-room safehouse in tenacity.

You’ve been sleeping for long enough, and he always noticed. And a grasp, he pulls you forward, insistently rocks you off your sleep.

“Come here.”

Teeth on teeth, they clash and clatter and a candy floss tongue coats the cold, his arms finally find you. Both hugging you to him and soothing the windblow, but your skin is warm now, and you ache for a different fire. He devours your whiny hums, leads your hands slowly on where he wants it, where he knows you want to touch. The fire in the distance heats the side of your face and a shudder runs down your body as a soft noise escapes your lips, he keeps his eager lips on your neck, his shaky breath ruffles your hair as the hand on your back spreads his fingers, reaching to the bottom of his cloth on you, his thumb flicks the clasp of your bra, his little finger traces the waistband of your jeans, fumbling through skin and fabric. You help him, out his clothes, and stagger yourself forward to his broad chest. His eyes twinkle in the low light, and you feel your knuckles on where his belt meets his abdomen, running slowly towards, up his chest, then it’s not only knuckles, kissing as you move your hand up to his throat. He tilts his head as he takes you in, your hand with amused ardour, looking down at you, lips brushing your temple as he whispers your name onto your hair, a soft, breathy chuckle of surprise.

Until he misses your lips again, and when he does, he rises his hand to your jaw, turning your head up to him. Moving his hand back to your hair, and a little tug, he leans down.

He presses you forward without resistance from you, and you feel the worn mattress on your back, his kisses trail down your face as he follows down, feeling you with you, in a way that your past affairs feel like mockery to you. The arms around you move, are his fingers shaking?.. He’s tense, his cheek glides down your breast, plating a firm kiss on your chest, you hold onto his back and his hand dives down, under your jeans, feeling the cotton of your underwear. His forehead brushes against your jaw as he lets out a withering whimper, feeling your heat through your clothed core, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on the slick flush of your parted lips, rolling your bottom lip between his as he presses his open palm on your sopping cunt, pressing the heel of his palm on your swollen clit, tugging you in him, tugging your jeans down roughly, the button of it pops out and he almost rips the zipper, and he swallows your gasp, kisses you until your jaw can’t keep up.

Forever, just one more try than never. Maybe there is a way for you, not one of pleasantries, one without him if you try hard enough. For now, though, you stay engrained in the facets of his life, between whorls of his fingertips and everything else that caresses you of him. There is no way for you to leave, no way that you are not embedded in his devoid heart. His heartbeat mirrors yours and he has your breath to breathe in, and you feel it. You feel him everywhere, under the yellow hue of the barrel’s fire, under his body, over the lilting shadow on the wall, fingers deep inside you. Where his silhouette ends, yours begin, and he means it. Promises it, prays it, beneath honeyed words, in rhythmic intonation as he gives you every inch of his love. And you give such sweet noises that trickles down his earlobe, gently grazing with your teeth, drawing out antsy whimpers. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You were going to kill him one day. All with this exaltation he willingly offers at your feet, with the idolatry that evokes within him in your cashmere walls, if not with the way you suck him in, hold and pull his digits deep inside you. You overwhelm him, exhilarate him. “Aren’t you?”

He keeps on, keeps on until you don’t feel like you are the ruler of your body, until you feel nothing but the transcendental bliss as you let out your high on his fingers, feel the coil in you arch, tighten and snap like harp strings. No one in the world has ever missed anyone like this. Lucky you.

He hums, and cradles his large palm on the side of your face, an unconscious spell moves and rests your head to it, he just smiles. He moves his drenched fingers along your lips, smears your essence on your parting lips, and invites his fingers in your warm mouth, threatening an oral fixation. Then he drags them out, pressing on your bottom lip, his wet fingers draw an invisible line that raises goosebumps on its way over your naked body, resting on the plush of your hip as he tastes you on your lips.

You nodded yes as he first asked you, and he acknowledges again. “You are… mmm… yes, you are.”

He keeps humming with his mouth slack on yours, entwining his hand along your thigh, switches your body on his. He’s not one to tell you with his words, to use and waste him, violate him softly, ruin him for anybody else as a kind coalescence of yours, but he tells you to “Keep going…. just— fuck! Fuck, baby… keep going…”, an assuring gaze that is ice down your spine.

And once, you heard as he thought you were sleeping, that he really, really, likes you. Very much, he added then. You grin at the memory, and how it picked this time for retrieval, thinking you never heard him. You clench yourself around his cock, steadying your palms on his shoulders, fuck him the way he tells you through the way his cut nails dig deeper onto your hips, reaching his palm along your spine as he pulls you toward him, kissing your lips, can’t keep sync as you ride him mercilessly. And you do, and you are.

—

He tells you things no one would dare say with their eyes open, and touches you, shows you yourself in a way you have never seen, all your beauty when the witnesses of your psyche are gone. Now, you feel the ghost of his touch along your back, fingertips massaging your nape, carding your hair, contemplating deeper. He lays beside you, pressing his nose on your shoulder blade as he steals a little kiss of your sumptuous skin.

“You asleep?”

-you take long enough before you decide to answer, so he just slips out an I love you.-

;;

Seeing snow lessening as the SUV drives away soothes her nerves. Watching an old man as he watches an old couple, hand in hand as they walk away. The strident, speedy bow of a violin, both pierces through her. Horses on a flatland, a singing smile and being someone’s Phaedra. Two coffee cups in one sink. Running around until the throat breathes sour, matching shapes on your childhood house’s ceiling, reading an old journal of yours. Two healthy fish in a full tank — mind alters the memories in coping. Balmy winter trees. Seconds and seasons. — like the day, just like the night. Like death, chasing them all. Like the never-ending games, all will end. You can’t hold the dying sun as it moves further away off your seat, but you can slant back in the backseat of the vehicle, looking at the driver’s seat, to him. Even better deal, you slide to the middle of the seat, resting your palm on the back of his seat, inch your face to his neck, and he drives. Breathe the vestiges of your scent off him in, press a placid smile on the tattoo of your initial under the fabric of his mask. Maybe you’ll not only love the winter days anymore.

84 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇 • 𝕰. 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 • chapter three

synopsis: (y/n) and the pole Assassins get their big break, performing at one of the country’s largest music festivals. It’s there that one of the reunites with a fling and (y/n) and Eren’s paths cross yet again. The two share a similar moment as their first encounter, both happy to see one another again. However, (y/n) finds herself approached by a stranger, who offers the upcoming model and dancer a pretty lucrative offer but what does this mean for her future and how will it affect her relationship with the rapper and her fellow dancers?

wc: 4.6K

cw: no hardcore warnings, just some flirting with (y/n) and Eren, smoking, language

prev chapter >>> next chapter

Saturday, July twentieth; the big day had finally arrived for hip hop fans, performers and Pole Assassins alike: Rolling Loud. The premier music festival where everyone from the most mainstream

the last thing you wanted was your efforts and talents to go to waste because some coked out college kid was heckling you or your girls. But he assured you that there was a reason he wanted you all in specific. A couple years ago when his debut album was released, he did something quite possibly unheard of but a genius idea nonetheless..went to a strip club, hired dancers to perform routines to his songs and created a visualizer. Conceptual art seemed to be a dying practice in this industry so to see him not only get creative but pay homage to a culture that is oftentimes disrespected despite heavily influencing rap was very commendable.

it only sweetened the deal when he told you that your very own Brianne and Syrai were two of the ladies featured. He was so impressed that he had been itching to work with them again. So after a couple quick searches, he found them as well as you and the rest of the lovely ladies.

“Ladies, do what you do best..bring this performance to life for me. Drown out all that other shit and just dance..I want you all to be the true stars.”

was his very humble request..

so fast forward, here you all were backstage, dressed in extravagant attire and six inch stilettos..ready to go. It was exciting, exhilarating and scary all in the same. His setlist was fourth so hopefully the audience would be a little more forgiving open by then.

all you wanted was a chance to show everyone what you all were capable of and the art of pole.

as (y/n) stood before a mirror, fixing a few minor details on your hair and makeup..you’d look down at your phone and see the time. As well as a blank notification screen. It had been a few days since you last spoke to your little partner in crime. It seemed that for the most part, the rumor mill and discussions around the pictures had seemed to die down. There were still a few people who spotted you on your way in and decided to insensitively ask you about it. To which you just gave no response.

probably some latchkey reporter looking for a headline or some random trying to sell it off to TMZ. Truth was, news cycled every three to five days and at some point, people stopped caring.

and you were incredibly grateful that it had.

however, you were hoping to hear from Eren. His words had a way of sticking with you. Truthfully, you hated the idea of even waiting for someone else’s call or text. Wanting to hear from them and becoming attached in general. This man was incredibly busy, important and probably had no interest in the likes of you for anything serious. His inbox had to be slapped full of women who looked like you or even better so there was no point. Still, he had been texting you every morning and calling during the night so naturally, it felt right to want to keep that routine going.

it was Rolling Loud weekend and although he may not have been participating himself..he had a few friends performing so maybe he’d show up. You had posted to your story, more so specifically the close friends feature of the revealing outfit..hoping to catch his eye. Not only after you guys’ very interesting FaceTime did he follow you on Instagram, but he commented on some of your things.

mainly to troll the weirdos in your mentions but of his own accord as well. Saying shit like ‘fine ass’ or ‘bad af’ with an emoji or two. You knew he played too goddamn much but you couldn’t help but feel he was a little serious about this one.

Right now, the only thing you needed to focus on was doing a good—no, exceptional job out there tonight! No time for mediocrity, half assedness or distractions. Nor to worry about a man.

just then, the sounds of very familiar voices came rushing towards you and seconds later, your best friends and group mates were attacking you with a barrage of hugs.

“(Y/NNNNN)” Niesha, your right hand came roping her hands around you and Syrai followed. All of you were so excited, that it could barely be contained. Your girls had been looking forward to this opportunity for quite some time and you were happy that it was finally here! All of the hard work, late nights and devotion had paid off.

“Nie Nie! Rai! Oh my gosh, y’all…it’s really happening. How we feeling?” All of their consensus was fairly the same: grateful but scared. Truthfully, the backup dancers were a direct reflection of the artist so you didn’t want to make him look bad. As the group’s leader, even though you were terrified, you still chose to hype them up.

Standing from your seat, you’d huddle them all in a circle where you’d hold hands.

“Well I think we’re all gonna do just fine. We’ve practiced a million times. It’s like he said, block out all that other shit and just dance.” now that they could do!..and would get the chance a lot sooner than expected.

“Next up is Saint JhN..dancers, to the stage please.” An intercom rang out across the dressing area. There was a little backstage area where everyone could get ready that led directly up to the stage. That way, they could do changes without being spotted by fans,

however, a few people had caught you on the way in and wanted some pictures (as well to question you about the incident). Just when you thought it had eluded you. Nonetheless, you’d lead your crew out to take your places. Amped and ready to go, you’d all file into the respective spot and places on the pole.

“This is it, y’all…”

mumbling as you looked up, ogling the nine foot pole. Just then, all of the practice and difficult stunts you had worked to perfect came rushing back.

“Let’s do it.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡

“It sucks to be you…I wouldn’t love you..I’d watch the whole world burn to see you dance!…”

the crowd shouted the last line in unison, back at the artist before the instrumental played him off. This was the final and third song on the set list of the renowned rapper. Every song being met with that of a standing ovation. More so specifically for the dancers performing along to it. As the final note played out, (y/n) done a kick pinwheel as you glided down.

“Y’all give it up for the lovely Pole Assassins! Ladies, thank you!”

and that they did! The crowd was going crazy. People were screaming for you guys and giving you your flowers. It went so much better than you expected and they were so receptive. Truthfully, they couldn’t help it when you guys were doing Cirque Du Soleil type tricks; full legged splits, twists and spins from the top even flying to each others poles mid beat drop! It was an experience that had to see first hand to believe. One that wasn’t possible without your group. After it finished, the camera panned off to give ample time for a switch out and you all came down to get backstage.

As you did so, the nerves and realization that it actually happened, began to set in. The adrenaline rush was still running rampant and you all wanted to ride that cloud forever.

“Oh my gosh! That was so much fun..on my mama, I ain’t never done nothing like that.” The ladies were bantering amongst themselves as you all made it back to the dressing room area. Your artist thanked you graciously and you all gave him a gigantic hug for this opportunity.

it was as you were all standing around, huddled up in a circle..scrolling your phones and checking the reviews, that a voice rang out behind you.

“Wonderful job out there, ladies. That was very impressive..”

it wasn’t one that you were familiar with personally but the rest of your troupe would recognize it anywhere and immediately started acting all fangirl-ish. Of course, that meant nothing with these four. They got excited over everyone when you could give a fuck less. However, it seemed that this dude was a pretty big deal..and pretty damn cute too!

Armin Artlert, famous producer also known as Armin Hammer. He was a singer for a little while who did more pop tracks but he had made quite the name for himself in the hip hop world. His true talent lies in making beats and he DJ’ed as well. What he was more so known for were his extravagant parties and playboy lifestyle. Some even call him the modern day Hefner sometimes. However, there seemed to be one young lady as of late who was capturing his attention far more than others….

“I’m hosting a little get together tonight, if you ladies would like to come. Which I hope you will.” Speaking to all of you but his little blue eyes were fixated on your best friend Niesha the entire time. You were no stranger to the fact that your homegirl was stunningly beautiful for one but two, that she attracted all types of guys in this industry, some of whom were no good for her but she was all about having fun and exploring options. That’s why you were so protective and guarded for not only yourself but all of them.

they were all on board, but you on the other hand were a little hesitant. If his reputation stood correct and preceded him, then she had no business with his ass in the first place! Regardless, you weren’t going to be able to tell her shit, especially if he was the one showing interest.

“Yeah, we’ll be ther—“

“I’ll think about it. Y’all go ahead without me. I’ll probably be there a little later.”

(Y/N) expressed, which threw him off because no one had tiptoed around one of his invitations but Niesha knew exactly how to get you hooked in. She knew you didn’t do parties unless pay was involved. Entertaining these niggas for free sounded like a nightmare..you couldn’t think of anything worse. “Well you girls just let me know what time you’ll be there and I’ll have my car come get you. See you later.” But before he left, he’d shoot you a glance as well. One that seemed friendly but as if there were something else behind it.

and in a weird, united voice, they’d all bid him adieu for the time being. You on the other hand were trying to get your stuff gathered and get the hell back to your hotel room. It was getting late, your job was done and you were starving. The last thing you wanted was to sit up and play in these men’s faces.

“Girl, do you know who that is?”

“Am I supposed to?”

Brianne would just roll her eyes and Kellie did the same, laughing at you. They knew you better than anyone that you were so anti-industry that even if you did, you’d only play coy. “Nah, when I say this man’s parties go crazy..you’d have to see it to believe it. And he doesn’t just invite anyone so I don’t know how you got in.” Syrai questioned as she packed up her belongings.

Niesha, who was quite proud of herself and the fact that she had been talking with the producer for some time on a personal basis. Which didn’t hold much merit considering his reputation..

“Well, he had asked me last weekend but I told him I’d see..probably why he came all the way down here because I didn’t text his ass back.”

Still, you could tell she was happy and if she liked it, you loved it. “Well I’m sure y’all will have a good time. Me? I’m done for the night. It’s already late.” They too had to head back to change and freshen up just to head out again.

but they knew exactly what..or who rather, would get you interested. “…maybe EJ will be there. You know that’s his best friend. They real tight.” Just then, your head would whip around in a tailspin. Not because it made you excited but you knew what they were alluding to.

“And? What that got to do with me?” questioning with your arms folded across your chest in an offended manner. They knew the whole photo situation was fresh on your mind and so was he. You were constantly checking your phone and very blatantly smiling when he texted. Granted, it was probably because he said something stupid but still! No one ever got you giddy like that and vice versa. Regardless, you weren’t going out this time of night for anyone. Besides, you could probably deduce that he wouldn’t show up either. After that gig was done, he couldn’t wait to get his ass up out of there and he expressed constantly how much he detested parties. “Alright, well we won’t force you. But, I think we deserve to celebrate after that.”

by this time, all of them had finished gathering their things and it was time to head out to the hotel. The car shuttling you all back to the resort had just arrived and it was time to go. But before you did, you’d huddle the energetic group together to commemorate the moment. Tilting your phone to the side for a picture with you all. Seeing those smiles, you figured that Kellie was right..maybe a little celebration was in order.

however, something quite unexpected would capture your attention and keep you glued right there. Leaning against the vanity, (y/n) clicked your tongue in our cheek and gave a slighted smirk..

“Hey…uh, y’all go back to the room without me.”

“You sure? We don’t want to leave you..at least make sure you’re good.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll get an Uber back. Love you guys, have fun at your party!”

with that, Brianne and the others bid you adieu and parted ways, leaving you there by yourself. But something told you that you wouldn’t be alone for long…near your mirror was a small slip of paper tucked underneath. Everyone else had all but ignored it except you..

once you guys vacated this room, another occupant would be coming to fill it. A name not previously mentioned on the docket because they were a surprise guest and one you knew all too well at this point.

EJ The Don, aka Eren Jaeger. He was the surprise headliner for tonight and everyone was probably going to lose their minds. You were excited yourself but that excitement would quickly turn to panic when you heard a barrage of footsteps headed in your direction. “Oh shit! This cannot be happening.”

They were there a lot sooner than imagined. To avoid being seen, you take off into the side changing room and hide there. No way you were experiencing this cliche ass moment..but you had to get out of sight. next thing you knew, the voices grew much louder and the knob clicked before twisting and opening. Suddenly, the sound of scraping slides and a laughing voice. “Aight man, bet. See you later.”

you’d recognize it anywhere now..that was Eren and he had just entered the room! Trying your hardest to keep quiet, you’d hear him moving around, getting into his seat and trying to get acquainted. You had to find a way to sneak out. Maybe when he turned his back or something stole his attention for a minute. Currently, he was looking over something and peering down at his phone. You’d notice his hand over his mouth, with his eyes intensely focused on the screen..suddenly, a bunch of loud noises began to erupt from the tiny speakers.

the very same song you had been dancing for not too long ago. In fact, that sounded like the video your assistant had posted, as you had her filming from the sidelines!..Was the great EJ actually watching your performance? Peering from behind the curtain, you’d catch a glimpse of him smirking and seemingly impressed by what he was looking at. This was by far the worst case of the waiting game ever.

having to be completely in stealth as to not get caught was torture. Not to mention the fact that it would not be a good look for you to get spotted creeping around in his dressing room, half nude and hiding. There’s no way you’d beat the allegations after that!

but at the drop of a dime, his entire expression changed when he looked on the countertop and picked up a tube of something, which happened to be your lipgloss! This was bad. He was completely baffled by it. “What the fuck?…” whispering to himself. “..couldn’t even clean this shit before I got here..” however, that streak of bad luck only was about to get worse when he started tapping away at his phone again, smirking once more..just as it seemed he was about to leave, that’s when it happened..

Ding!

the notification bell from your phone began sounding off! You tried your hardest to silence that damn thing yet it was too late. He had just commented on your post and didn’t know you were only twenty feet away. Whipping his head around, Eren furrowed his brow and looked in your direction unknowingly..

“What was that?..”

he was looking around, trying to pinpoint the source of that noise. You just knew he’d spot you and that there’d be no way to explain this. Luckily his interest didn’t last long and he turned the other direction. you’d try your hardest to cower yourself further into the corner and just when you thought that you were in the clear..

“Oh!”

Your stupid ass phone just had to fall! When you leaned forward in a very piss poor attempt to retrieve it, your head poked out from behind the black curtain and you inevitably fell over!..which blew your cover before you knew it. Although, there was no need in trying to make up an excuse now.

“Hey! Who the—“

planted on your hands and knees, (y/n) lifted your head up and spotted Eren towering over you. His six foot four frame glaring down and eventually bending to help you. “(Y/N)?!” this was so incredibly awkward and irritating. How could you even explain yourself?! “..hey. I—uh. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here.” “I could say the same thing..they told me you had left already. Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything..just didn’t expect this.”

admitting as he helped you to your feet with an extended palm. The first thing to capture your attention was his normally tied hair was hanging all around his. He was wearing a white wifebeater, his signature chain and black pants..looking very handsome as always! You on the other hand had your hair and makeup all styled; glitter and jewels on that pretty face, spandex shorts and tube top that most certainly..amplified your features. Which defintely captured his attention.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll believe me if I told you what happened.” “Nah, I’m all ears. Go ahead.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡

“Are you for real right now? Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“No, I’m serious. And stop laughing at me!”

the second you offered up your explanation, EJ went doubling over in laughter..not believing anything he had just heard. You told him how this Armin guy came and invited them all to his party, how your homegirl had been talking to him and he sent a car to pick them all up..even told him how they said Armin was his best friend. You went on to express how they said both of you should loosen up and come but it wasn’t going to happen. Currently, you two were sitting on the couch, his feet kicked up with his arm around the back as you conversed. Which felt completely comfortable for some reason.

“I’m sorry, it's just crazy because we are too much alike. Well they are right about something..that dumb ass is my best friend. And yes, I’d rather scratch my own eyes out than to be at one of his little weird ass orgies.”

truthfully, this was more of his vibe; getting high and having a good talk with a beautiful woman. The fact that he had you smiling and giggling was a huge plus.

“Tell your homegirl to run while she can. He ain't gone do shit but have her looking stupid.”

you appreciated his concern but there was no need to worry. Just as you two were equally yoked, Niesha seemed to be two peas in a pod with this man. That bitch was notorious for breaking hearts.

“Oh trust me, she’ll be fine. If anything, I’m worried about him. She’s no saint herself.”

“Then it sounds like we’re tripping over nothing…”

leaning up to tap his blunt into the ashtray. When he did, your eyes locked again and you were getting that same feeling you did the first time..his height towering over you by a good bit and it was so attractive. It definitely didn't help when he brushed your shoulders.

“As for you, pretty lady..since you skipped out on the Dollar Tree Playboy Mansion, what are you doing tonight?”

it honestly wasn’t a question you wanted to answer, considering the embarrassing fact that it was nothing. During Rolling Loud weekend nonetheless..most people would be out until the early morning hours and you were going to be laid up watching Netflix or something.

“I hadn’t really planned anything honestly. Was just gonna head back to my room..”

anyone else would’ve claimed that as pretty pathetic but seeing as how he had similar plans when he was finished, he couldn’t judge. If anything, he’d be gaming or staring at your videos..which he chose to omit out of fear of sounding creepy! Eren then shifted in his seat and glared at you, brushing past your cheek.

“Well since us two losers don’t have any plans, why don’t we kick it for a lil’ bit? I won’t keep you long since you’re probably tired but if you’re free tomorrow, I’d love it if we could hang out. Only if you want to though..no pressure.” his little cheeks blushing red like a schoolboy. It was adorable and you wanted to tease him so bad but he’d probably rescind his offer right there. Besides, it sounded perfect!

“I mean, shit. To let everyone tell it, we’re going out anyway. What type of fake PR boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take my made up girlfriend out on a date?”

“A pretty bad one.”

there was that sarcasm you loved! (Y/N) couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking your head as he rose to his feet.

“If you couldn’t tell already, I’m the guest headliner for tonight. They wanted it to be a surprise so they told everybody to keep their mouths shut but I don’t plan on staying for any of the bullshit so if you’re down, we can go do something.”

that sounded like a plan to you! You were thrilled to be seeing him again so soon and figured at this point, if people wanted to talk, let them.

“Yeah,of course. Thank you.” Humbly accepting his offer. Just then, the sound of his phone dinging went off and he’d look down for a moment.

“Well that looks like my cue. You’re more than welcome to stay and finish changing, I don’t mind. Hope you’ll come watch me though..” sounding as if he truly cared of what you thought and wanted you around. Everytime you were around him, it disproved the public’s opinion that he was mean and cold. Or maybe you were just special and didn’t know it yet.

“My favorite artist and fake boyfriend performing? I wouldn’t miss it for anything..”

“Now that’s all the motivation I need.”

by that time, the two of you were face to face..only inches apart with smirks on your lips. What you wouldn’t give to kiss him right now but it was far too soon. Still, you had never had that amount of attraction to someone. Dated your ex for three years and didn’t feel nearly as much as you did now! You were so fixated on him that you didn’t notice how close your bodies were and it wasn’t until he broke the awkward tension that you guys parted and he’d head for the door.

“Well I should go..see you in a lil’ bit.”

“Yeah, see you..”

but before he left for good, he’d turn over his shoulder and utter something. “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you..you did amazing tonight. That was literally incredible. You all did..proud of you, (y/n).”

your heart fluttered and began thumping a million miles a minute…hearing that from someone so accomplished was the icing on this cake. You’d thank him once more and with that, he’d leave you alone.

the tears of joy that had been swelling all night, waiting until you were alone, finally fell and you said a little prayer to yourself, thanking the heavens that it all went so smoothly.

knowing his set would begin soon, (y/n) made haste in getting into more appropriate attire and far cuter as well. A crushed velvet pink jumpsuit with a cropped jacket and low rising pants that showed off your belly button ring and backside.

but it was as you were preparing to exit the dressing room and make your way out, you would be greeted by an unfamiliar face and voice..presenting you with an opportunity like never before.

“Hi, (y/n) (l/n), right?”

the man stood adjacent to the doorway, making his way up to you with the faint step of his dress shoes. A very well dressed and dapper individual with a combed over blonde tuft and a twenty thousand dollar watch on his wrist..whoever this was important but you had no earthly idea what his business was with you. Remaining defensive and stoic, (y/n) clung to the door in the event you’d have to run back in. But he meant no ill will, instead wanted to present you with an opportunity..

“Yes, and you are?”

“Forgive me..I’m Erwin Smith, Executive Director at AMG. I’m sure you’re familiar with them so I’ll cut to the chase…I’ve got a business proposal for you. What do you say we talk turkey?”

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: .･*:｡.･*:｡.･

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! please check out some of my other stuff in the masterlist. Likes are appreciated but reblogs would mean the world and help me out a TON! Also, considering leaving a little something in the tip jar if you’re feeling extra generous! 🫶🏾

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: .･*:｡.･*:｡.･

tag list

@vixxennxx @bisexualfenty @whorrorifics @potofstewie @daisynik7 @hoohoohope @chickenwingsandfries3425 @bbgiirrll @sunkissedebony97 @libralina @lemmetreatya @scorpiobaesstuff @liliorsstuff-blog @ushijimasslut @gardenof-venus @localcvmslut @rintcrous @laiorelle @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @momobaby227 @aengelren @gobblethiskitty @erenyeagerswhore @sweetpeachies @onlytsukki @http-twyla @spaceforher @radicaledward55 @f4irycafe @saturnsgaze @breyspage @takeomi-slut @shanakia @lostgxrlblog @yvxmpire @stunna4st4rr @si00p @cherrylovesyou222 @cl3v-j

446 notes · View notes

celabi · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

Featuring — Shinichiro, Wakasa, Kokonoi, Inui.

Rec by @wakasagurl !! Hope this is okay <3

✰ 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎’s heavy, booted footsteps are the first thing you can hear when you come too, along with a couple string of curses he lets slip past his lips when he slowly stumbles into your bedroom. “Sorry baby, did I wake you?” He mumbles, discarding his oil covered jeans to the floor and kicking off his dirty shoes— he watches you stir around in the blankets from the reflection in full body mirror that faces the bed— and he almost wants to throw himself to the ground when one of his boots won’t get off his foot. “No, you’re good… long day?” You mutter, and Shinichiro couldn’t be happier when you open your arms wide for him to nestle into your warm embrace. “You couldn’t imagine.” It’s his favourite nightly routine when he gets to start peppering your collarbone with small little kisses— while his mouth slowly makes its way to your neck, then your chin— and then finally they linger on your own lips for a while. He lets out a content hum as his eyes glue shut due to how cosy it feels to finally be in bed, but yours scrunch up in discomfort. Softly— you push him away by the forehead and swipe your mouth with your hand, tiredly giggling as he makes a face as if you kicked a puppy. “Babe… what?” You sigh and shake your head. “Stop smoking, or I’ll stop kissing you, I’m serious.” He only chuckles, letting his head fall back into the dip of your shoulder as he breaths in your scent. “You said that last time, yet here we are.”

✰ 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 already told you that if you pulled these silly little pranks again, then you’d loose your s/o privileges until you learn to behave— you always choose to ignore this because he takes you back in under and hour, and all you need is your cute like face and a couple of candy bars. “Okay… I’m off, meeting with the BD’s starts in like… two minutes.” Wakasa sighs in annoyance, shrugging on his coat and clipping his red beaded earring into his ear as he stares into the bathroom mirror, you watch him from the doorway. “But… it’s takes you like, ten minutes to get there?” He nods, puffing away a strand of his white hair that fell on his face while trudging over to you to pat your head. “Yeah, so? They can wait.” Before you know it— your wrists are softly being pulled towards the front door as he opens it before turning back to you. “Don’t stay up too late… or do, I don’t care. But when you get fatigued, don’t come crying to me.” He tries to bite back his small smile when your laughter fills his ears, but he shakes it off with his normal monotone expression. “Thanks for your concern, but you should get going.” He nods, dropping your hand and bringing his own up to hold your chin— leaning in to grasp his lips against yours, his thumb circling the skin on your cheek. But when you lean away and wipe your mouth with your sleeve, all the love he had for you vanished— he nods in understanding. “Got it, I’ll block your number when I get there, and I expect a two page paragraph of how sorry you are in my emails, the deadline is two PM. Have a good day.”

✰ 𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 doesn’t seem like a man who would adore skin ship— or any type of affection that involves touching, but he does, and it’s more then you would think. “Boss’es been in my ear all week for no reason, he’s like a damn fly buzzing around… but don’t tell him I said that.” He mumbles into your neck and lets out a sigh of content when your hand scratches that one spot on his head while you play with his hair. “Like I would talk to your boss… he’s scary.” He chuckles, his deep voice sending vibrations against your skin which makes you shiver. “I’know baby, so stay away from him, don’t want you getting caught up in this shit.” Kokonoi rolls his eyes even though you can’t see it, and presses a quick kiss on the center of your throat. “Using that new fragrance I brought you? Smells good.” You hum and nod, your fingers leaving his death hawk to rub your neck before going back like nothing happened, and you have to quickly hid your sly smirk when he props himself up on his elbows to stare you down. “What was that?” “What was what?” You swiftly reply in fake innocence, yet your smile shows anything but. His eyes narrow slightly before bringing your hand up to place a chaste kiss to your knuckles, not once blinking because he’s watching your movements like a hawk. You rub your fist against the velvet couch and give him a smile, one that he scoffs at. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you, sweetheart?” He gets up, gently but feistily swatting away your hand when you reach for him. “Babe?” “No, m’not your babe right now, I didn’t want your kisses anyways.” “…you’re so dramatic.”

✰ 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔 stares at you in confusion when you shake your head at him after he places a kiss to your cheek, even more so when you wipe it away with your thumb. “[name]? Something wrong?” And he fails to notice the phone recording five feet away when he pulls you in by the waist to give you another. Koko is snickering from his position at the desk while your boyfriend stares at you. “I brushed my teeth this morning…” he mumbles against your lips, if you’re wiping away his kisses— why are you reciprocating it with as much love as he is putting in? “Okay, thanks for telling me.” You laugh and he nods slowly, still in confusion even when you grab your phone to watch the video you took. “No… problem.” He pulls you in and leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist while he watches along with the screen. “Oh, you video taped us… what for, love?” “Cause they wanted to see your reaction, you’re so dense sometime, inupi.” Koko chimes in, you nod in confirmation. “Yeah, you looked really confused.” Seishu chuckles along with you, only because your laugh is so contagious that he can’t help it. “So it wasn’t my bad breath?” “No babe, your breath smells nice… like blueberries.” You can feel his nose rub against your neck before his body is slowly rocking yours side to side. “Yeah, I’m using the toothpaste you brought me, thanks.” He places a kiss to your shoulder, and shakes his head with an amused laugh when you wipe it away. “Ha ha, hilarious.”

1K notes · View notes

niphredil-14 · 4 months

Note

pls write some fluff for raph <3333

its 2 am rn so i just want something comforting to read lmao. maybe some headcannond about trying to get a peaceful nights sleep while ur crime fighting boyf sneaks back into ur room after patrolling/a mission?🥷🥷🥷

ty bby

METRONOME OF AFFECTION (2012 Raphael Hamato/Reader) Warnings: some pining, some light insecurity, lots of fluff, friends to lovers word count:1794 notes: tumblr wouldnt let me post this all at once so i was forced to break it up.

Protecting a city as massive and crime filled as New York was far from an easy task, no matter how many people were on the team, and in some cases, the team could add more to his plate than they took anything off of it. From small annoyances, and petty arguments to full on battles, it didn't take long to wear Raphael down, he could feel his patience falling away from him like loose scutes. Every little inconvenience and setback sticking to him like algae on his shell. By the time that the bright moon, clouded by the fog and smoke rising from the city, had begun to set over the skyline, Raph's feet were dragging with every step, his very bones ached, and what risked becoming a permanent scowl had carved itself onto his face, his mouth curving downward, pulling awkward lines down his jaw from his beak. The group had all been heading towards their go-to sewer cap, located in a small, cramped alley in the Italian district, right next to a small Mom-and-Pop pizzeria that they had April and Casey frequenting on their behalf. The closer they got to their equivalent of a doorstep, the more Raph's appetite lessened and a strong sense of dread set into his chest. He did not want to end his less-than-ideal night with going back to the lair, with people who has spent the past six hours doing nothing but getting on his nerves, only to brood and stew in his misery, holed up in his room or the dojo until the stars rose yet again as the next evening dawned, where they would all rinse and repeat their ass-kicking and name-taking routine, he needed an escape, and he knew exactly where to go. He had stopped walking, letting his brothers and friends build a gap between them as he slowly melded with the shadows, turning and heading east. After five minutes or so, he would send them a text, just before he arrived at his destination, letting his family know that he was okay, and that it was just a bit early for him to crawl back to the sewers to hide from the world again. Pausing after sending the text, letting the dim blue-light from the screen minimally illuminate his face, he hesitated on their fire escape. The window led into their living room, and he could tell that there was not a single light on in their apartment, save for a small night light kept plugged into the hallway outlet, so that they didn't trip if they had to get up in the middle of the night, as they so often did. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb their sleep, he knew that with everything they had going on in their life, that they weren't getting nearly enough, and yet he couldn't stop himself from at least slipping in to use the first aid kit they kept underneath their bathroom sink, and making sure that they were okay. He placed his fingers underneath the window, and let out an exasperated sigh when it lifted open without resistance. The number of times he had warned them to keep all their windows locked was as impossible to count as the stars with the naked eye. He faced the evil of the city every night, he knew what hid in the shadows, he knew the monsters that would give anything to hide in their closet or under their bed, he could be counted among them, though for contrasting reasons to the other freaks and low lives. Silently crawling through their window, with some struggle due to his sheer size, he made his way to the kitchen first, grabbing a glass of water, and some of the snacks they had begun buying once Raphael's visits became more frequent. He smiled to himself in the dark of the kitchen, his heart touched at seeing that they had restocked his favorite snacks. After having a quick bite, he snuck into the bathroom, taking out the first aid kit an patching himself up where needed, which fortunately for him, was not much, he hadn't gotten more than a few cuts, and only had to remove two bullets. He slid the kit back into the cupboard and shut the door behind him, walking as quickly as he quietly could towards the end of the hall, where their bedroom was.

The door was closed, but he could hear their soft breathing behind the door. Their breaths were slow and even, and he was sure that they were in a deep sleep. He felt as though he shouldn’t intrude, but they had always told him that he was always welcome, no matter the time or the day, and maybe, he thought, he should just do a quick check to make sure a necklace they forgot to take off wasn’t choking them and that there weren’t any intruders or creepy-crawlies hiding in the room, waiting for the perfect moment. And so, he slowly opened their bedroom door, cringing at the low squeak that resulted. He froze, waiting for any sign that he had disturbed them, but their breathing did not change, and they only slightly shifted. It wasn’t the first time that he had shown up in the middle of the night, and though he always felt so guilty about it, he knew how it usually ended, with them tucked close to his plastron, as the two cuddled close underneath the comforter, drifting off to sleep, with only a small stream of light creeping in through a small crack in the blinds. And yet, though this was far from his first time entering without prior notice, he was afraid. Afraid that it would be the last straw, that they would turn him away, tired of his company, tired of his existence. Despite his fear, the turtle took a step into their room, and then another. He walked around the perimeter of the room, checking the closet, the blinds, and any other potential hiding spots, before making his way over to the side of the bed. He did not lift the covers, just stood there, blocking the small bit of window light, and casting a shadow over their form. They looked so peaceful that he couldn’t help but just stop and stare, unable to fathom how someone as gruff and rough around the edges as him, someone with a shell even harder than their head, could end up with someone who made them feel so soft. Looking down at his friend, the one he had loved for what felt like several lifetimes before his own, he felt a sense of hopelessness. He loved being close to them, and yet he was so sure that they could never feel anything more than platonic, if even that, for him. Sometimes his brain turned its rudeness towards him, yelling at him that they only ever kept him around out of the kindness of their heart, out of pity, that he was a charity case, that they would never willingly want to be with a mutant such as him. In a moment where he wanted to be close enough to crawl inside their skin, but was to fearful of the rejection, he could only grant himself any sort of reprieve from the tightening of his heart, by lightly brushing his finger along their face, tracing swirls on their cheek. Being with them was as torturous as it was heavenly, they gave him a safe haven when he needed an escape, but with their gift of hospitality, their bright smile and caring eyes had planted a seed of sickly sweetness deep within him. He didn’t know how they had managed to reach through his plastron to tug directly at his heart strings, puppeteering him like a string marionette, but they had and there was no one else he would rather have such control over him. And just as he was about to let his hopelessness consume him and leave, their eyes slowly blinked open, their head lolling to face him as their gaze followed his arm up to his shoulder, jaw, then face. A sleepy, almost drunk-like smile graced their features, and his heart swelled. In a moment of vulnerability, they had smiled at him, so genuinely he was convinced that it couldn’t have been an act of pity.

“Hey, Big Guy.” The exhaustion seeped into their words, slurring them. His voice caught in his throat, and he coughed, clearing his throat.

“Hey.” He replied, trying to pull his hand away from their face, unsuccessfully, as they grabbed his wrist and tugged them towards them, lifting up the covers for him to crawl under. He sat down on the side of the bed, undoing the wraps on his feet and hands, and taking of his belt an harnesses, finally taking off the bandana as well, before finally climbing into bed with them. It was a small bed, twin size at best, which did not leave much personal space between them. He hovered his hands on his side, until they shifted forward, hugging him as they buried their face in his shoulder. “Sorry for waking ya,’ Doll.” They shook their head, nuzzling into him some more in the process.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Raph. You know I’m always happy to have you. It’s been too long.” He gave a light chuckle, caving to the cuddles they both craved, and pulling them even closer to him.

“It’s been three days.”

“Exactly, that’s far too long to be without my love.” Raphael sputtered, and he was sure that if reptiles could blush, that he would be red as the first roses, dyed with the blood of Aphrodite herself.

“You love me? Like, love me, as in, a more-than-friends kinda way?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“’Course I love you, Raphael, you think I’d let anyone else break into my apartment at five in the morning to wake me up for a cuddle sesh? You’re my everything.” As embarrassing as it was, he could feel his tail thump against the mattress behind him.

“You’re my everything too.” Raphael replied. He wanted to tell them that he loved them too, but the words were too heavy in his throat, and too scary for him to let escape just yet, so he settled for mimicking their last sentence, and lowering his beak to gently press against their forehead, to mimic a kiss as closely as he was capable of with his beak. Giving them a tight squeeze, he shuffled even closer to them, nuzzling the top of their head, and drifting off to sleep, with their hearts synching to beat together as a metronome of their affection.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael hamato #tmnt raph hamato #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raphael hamato x reader #tmnt raph hamato x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt 2012

52 notes · View notes

anlian-aishang · 9 months

Text

SNK Men - Falling Out of Love with Them - Levi, Erwin, Eren, Armin, Jean, Reiner, Zeke

tags: snk x reader, sfw, angst, food mention, alcohol mention, smoking mention, break-ups, modern AU, gn!reader

Levi:

You could tell from the second you laid eyes on him: a man of few words, an introvert, full of thoughts but nothing to say. Silent heart held secrets. Crossed arms guarded them. You longed to unlock his cage, to set him free, and shoulder those burdens with him. That desire gave you the courage to approach him. Your kindness kept him there.

Far later, living together, closets and cabinets filled, routines intertwined, such milestones used to give you confidence in your relationship. Over time, though, they became looming doubts. Levi never talked about his day, about himself. When you asked him, he provided mere slivers. When you pressed on, he narrowed his gaze in a way that shut you up. He was the foil to your fairy tales: never professing his love, never a heartfelt love letter just cause. In fact, no confessions of love at all.

Sharing a bed with you, but not his past. Levi had met your friends, your family, but you couldn’t name either of his parents. Where did he grow up? What brought him to this city? Why does he love you? Does he love you?

Years gone by, you started to question whether you knew that much more than you did that first night. Tears in your eyes as you surveyed him from across the living room: hand on his cheek, attention solely on his reading. He looked just as mysterious as he did back then. All that time, those efforts, your affection: wasted.

A man of no regrets gained one in your departure: he should have told you everything. The only one he had ever lived with, the only one he had slept with, he thought it was obvious - how special you were to him. The pain of recounting his past was nothing compared to that of losing you. The vulnerability required to open up was much less than that of reconciling your break-up. In his eyes, he had been an open book. In his eyes, there was no reason to try that again.

Erwin:

Out of your league. Top of the food chain. Tall and blonde, smart and beautiful, he had the eyes of everyone on him. When you learned that his were on you, god, it was a feeling you wished you could bottle forever. If you could have, maybe that would have prevented you from falling out of love.

From the first day you met him throughout the course of your relationship, you never forgot how appreciated he was, even if you wanted to. It was what drew you to him, now what separated you from him. Every morning, he left for work far before you woke up. Every evening, he was home too late for dinner. Weekends were wonderful - lazy cuddles, fancy brunches, movies and museums - but they were all you had: a mere 72 hours of his week. Work was his life, his wife. You were just his part-time, his side hustle.

Over time, so constantly reminded of his importance, you felt comparatively, increasingly worthless. How many meals alone? The housework of two allotted to only one. Dinner parties where your date was the hidden corner or the cocktail bar rather than him. You realized: you were practically already single, and you would rather be comfortably single than repeatedly broken up with - every time he chose you last.

What you missed were the kisses on your forehead before he left those mornings, the overtimes he put in so that his weekends could be free for you, the refusal of all-expense-paid business trips to Paris, London, Hong Kong just because they did not fit in your schedule. He had the world at his disposal, but home was always his top destination. Some days, he was late to arrive there. He left earlier and more often than he would have liked. But it wasn’t the mansion that drew him back, it was always you.

Eren:

Eren’s spontaneity was perfect for that summer fling, the movie star of your coming of age. Last-minute drive-ins, sudden custard cravings, sneaking out of windows, and spur-of-the-moment road trips to nowhere, Eren was game for all of your heart’s desires, the most indulgent boyfriend, maple syrup on tap.

Seasons changed, though, yet his impulsiveness didn’t. Come your birthday, he had no surprises planned, just whatever you want. Anniversaries that he would play by ear. When leases ran up and it was time to decide whether to move in together, he was a shrug of the shoulders: what do you think? Anything about your future, he played listener and simply let you drone on. He did not change the subject, but his lack of enthusiasm essentially did, a deafening silence to your thoughts: indifferent to a life with you.

In frustration’s lens, his open mind became a careless one. Adventure was just childishness in disguise. Did he really love you or the idea of you? Were you a special someone or just someone to share experiences with? Unthoughtful, and you don’t deserve someone who doesn’t think of you.

You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine when you suddenly packed your bags and snuck out of his house for the last time. Before he could realize you were upset, you were already gone, denying him a chance to tell his truth. He did not care about the steps along the way, all he cared about was sharing your path. Leaving decisions in your hands, he let you be the captain while he played passenger to your life. Given your fear of growing up, he felt that he could be your partner in playfulness, keeping your spirits alive. All of him meant to prioritize your happiness, whatever that would take, wherever it would lead you - even if it was out the door.

Armin:

Ocean-blue eyes, sunshine in his hair. Warm smile, soft hands. His appearance caught your attention, his mentality was what hooked you. Armin thought ahead, far ahead, constantly several steps before yours. It allowed you to relax for once, trusting that everything was safe in his hands. Reserving tables, making plans, shopping lists, booking hotels, thorough itineraries, his handling of everything convinced you to worry about nothing.

In taking away your stressors, though, he had taken them all to himself. He would pile on, pile on, pile on until he was overwhelmed, taking it out through sporadic morning sprints and screaming in scalding showers. Apparently, his preferred decompression lie in caffeine-fueled midnight spells at his desk over a bed with you. When you tried to quell him, he would whimper, I’ll try to do better. I’ll do better. A simple sentence, but misunderstood. You thought he would improve at communicating with you, that he would work to share his workload. He meant the opposite: if he could manage his time better, if he could measure his responsibilities accurately, it would prevent his meltdowns so that he wouldn’t have to run to you.

You were patient week by week. Month by month, you began to wonder. A year later, and he still had not even thought to let you in. From there, anxiety’s voice amplified: he thinks you’re incapable, incompetent. You can’t be trusted with even the smallest things. He doesn’t trust you.

No matter how many times he read it over, your letter still confused him. Encyclopedias and editorials, no piece of literature had left him lost like you had. A good head on one’s shoulders was his first and foremost requirement of any partner, so why did you say you didn’t have one? You saw his mistakes and loved him past them, how could you claim he was a perfectionist? All of him was with you in mind, but if he couldn’t share his life with you, you weren’t his life partner.

Jean:

By his own confession, he was helplessly in love with you. Jean said it early, said it often, both in words and actions. Close cuddles every night, deliberate kisses every morning. Regular reminders of his feelings had lifted your self-esteem from lowest lows to highest highs. You were such royalty in his eyes, you actually started to believe it in your own. Jean willed your status into reality.

You became the decision maker, the head of the home. He became your biggest fan, your yes-man. From things as small as choosing dinner to topics as big as world views and your futures, he was completely agreeable. Your hobbies, your friends, your feelings became his. At first, you thought you had met your perfect match. Despite his praise, though, you knew that the world did not revolve around you, only his did. When you asked him what he really wanted, he looked lost. Starting hypotheticals with if I wasn’t around… left him dazed.

He was your perfect match because he was your mirror. In becoming yours, Jean Kirstein lost himself, you killed him. Playing his commandant, you destroyed him. Letting him free, you owed it to him.

Jean could not disagree, no matter how much he wanted to: he had become yours, you had changed all of him. What you got wrong, though, was that it was for the worse. The role of significant other was what made him come alive. Before you, he was nothing. With you, he was something. Your needs gave him purpose. Your smiles gave him rewards. You had led him down a candy trail in pursuit of your affection. He had always imagined it would lead to a lifetime with you, but instead, you cut him off in the middle of your forest: lost and confused, alone and hopeless, nowhere and nobody.

Reiner:

Radiant. Blonde hair reflected all light, making him stand out in any scene. His voice was deep, you dove and drowned in it. A head-turning, infectious laugh. Reiner’s body language was confident, his figure strong. His smile was inviting, his eye contact solid, attractive conventionally and especially to you. Broad shoulders would carry your troubles, soft lips would kiss your wounds. You clung to him like a life preserver, someone to share your struggles.

It was selfish of you, but he didn’t see it that way. In fact, he took it as the opposite. In catching your tears, he knew you would be there to wipe his. Listening to your vents, you had handed him a microphone to voice the things he needed off his chest. With you, Reiner was comfortable, even more than times he was alone. You let him cry while his inner voice yelled for him to stop. Tears penetrated your shirt, soaking all the way to your heart. Ashamed to admit it, but you used to enjoy them. A one-person audience to his other side. Proof that he could be himself with you. You took pride in that exclusivity.

Night after night, though, those emotions started to lose their rarity. Bags under your eyes, drifting off to sleep but woken up by a loud sob, Reiner was no longer romantic, but pathetic. That assured and capable man from before turned hollow in your presence. This isn’t what you signed up for. You’ve been tricked. You’re not his therapist. Instead of sympathy, apathy. Your former desire to hear all he had to say was overshadowed by your longing for him to be happy. The more he cried to you, the further you reached towards the conclusion: he was more often sad than happy in your presence.

You said it was best for him, but you were the best thing that ever happened to him. You said that you could still be friends, but his friends didn’t know what you did, no one did. You had taught him it was okay to feel, but finished the lesson: just not with me.

Zeke:

Sharp, critical, an opinion for everything, above it all. You found him flawless because he could find flaws in anything, so when you managed to make him fall for you, your ego swelled: you were perfect.

Reserving a passenger seat in his car, you felt you had booked a celebrity. Movie tickets, plane tickets, side by side, the exclusive partner for his excursions. Sharing his bed felt too good to be true. In it, the adoration he gave you was ripped straight from your dreams. For you, he only had praise. When he became your everything, your flaws disappeared to nothing. Two perfect people in love with each other, you thought your relationship would be the same.

It was for a while. Hearing his rambles, you savored his cynical perspectives and the low sound of his voice. His contempt for everything else, you translated it as proof of his love for you. When all else was awful, he found solace with you. Eventually, though, that lens grew cloudy in cigarette smoke. You could listen for hours, but the only thing that stopped his rants were the Marlboros. You never minded the smell of smoke, but when you thought of its connotations - confiding in cigarettes rather than you - you grew to hate it, to envy it.

You worked so hard to make your home a happy one, but rant by rant, it was filled with sadness. If he had so much to complain about, he must not have been happy. If he was not happy, you were not helping him, at least, not enough. Not enough, not enough, not enough - no matter how much he insisted.

// masterlist //

110 notes · View notes

dimepdf · 2 years

Text

BASEMENT COUCH. + ARGYLE

m.list / nav. / kofi. summary. your boyfriend Ari being in love with your small boobs. author's note. its been two days people give me my stoner by fanfics i need it for a friend.

[ ❥ ] pairing. argyle x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 1k

[ ❥ ] genre. mature

[ ❥ ] warnings. language, mature theme, reader with small boobs, Argyle being underrated, courruption kink?, hickeys, dry humping, sub Argyle, breast play, grinding, not proofreading it’s almost midnight i’m so sorry

Your soft, gentle moans echoed through the boy's basement, and your whimpering made Argyle almost drool as you two lay on the old, uncomfortable springs in the sofa that smelt kind of like corn chips and passed around goodwill donations.

You grew accustomed to the musk and even fell into arousal with Argyle's scent, borrowing most of his button shirts just to drown in it.

You and Argyle grew to love each other's flaws, as he was smitten with you the first day you introduced yourself to him at his job, being one of the new employees he was scheduled to train you and since you two were inspectable.

As you were one of his best friends besides Jonathan, you were also the first girl to openly show interest in him the moment you realize your romantic feelings for him.

You didn't hesitate to confess leading to your perfect relationship that was formed to this day. Ari considered himself even lucky to somehow get you to fall in love with him, still not fully believing you were actually attracted to him, you were just so perfect in his eyes.

You found his nervousness for you adorable and an extreme turn-on, even though he was still stumbling and stuttering his words as he spoke when it came to showing affection.

You jumped him because it would take a couple of months for the boy to be comfortable enough to do anything remotely close to sex with you.

Realizing that your sex drive was so much more driven than Ari’s it didn't help when the boy would and you were alone during a smoke sesh, once the weed took effect on you it was impossible to not latch your lips onto his soft brown skin.

Nibbling hickeys just along his collarbone as Ari would sit obediently under you holding your hips as you straddled his lap as most of your sexual interaction would start with you leading, Ari being a nervous guy in general which was why he was always stoned.

One thing that he knew he loved about you for sure was your breasts, he didn't understand how you could complain about them being “too small” when they fit just perfectly in his hands.

Finding comfort in needing and groping your chest every time you would slide your tongue in his mouth, almost like his hands were just made to hold tease them, or your chest was made to be held by him? Either way, he wasn't complaining as long as he got to suck on them still.

Your makeout sessions always started the same. Ari would get you high in his basement, coaxing you over to his house.

After your shift was over, he would drive you to his home, blaring music in his company van as you two would jam out all the way down the steps, and found yourselves getting high ranting and rambling about life and how your lives were going.

Then Ari’s favorite stage would happen: the progression of you sturdily flirting with him until your comments become just straight out lustful as he tries to contain his shyness at your lewd compliments directed at him.

Even if the routine had played out in your relationship almost a million times.

Ari still found you sitting on his lap, nerve-racking, the way you would grind against his hips. Making his hands tremble as you distracted yourself by sucking hickeys into his neck.

As you guided his hands to travel up your body and under your shirt, nibbling at his lips as you shed your shirt and removed your bra.

His greedy hands grabbed your small exposed boobs instantly, like they had belonged there, massaging the warm flesh with his rough hands.

You drew back, caressing the boy's face before kissing him passionately on the lips, his lashes fluttering as you did so. It was almost as if you kissed all of his words from his throat, your tongue stringing out all of his common sense as it invaded his mouth.

"You're looking stunning right now, Ari." The compliment made his mouth gaped, and you could almost hear the bolts in his brain clicking into action as he blinked, a shy chuckle escaping his throat.

"Oh–yeah, I—I mean, thanks, thank you. I think you're really pretty too, obviously because you're my girlfriend, but I'm not saying that just because you're my girlfriend, I think you're... perfect." You giggled as he stammered over his words.

You wrap your arms around his neck, watching the boy try to keep eye contact.

His gaze shifted to your eyes, then to your exposed breasts, which he was still fondling. He admitted several times how much he adored your boobs—how soft and squishy they were, how perfectly they cupped in his hands, and how hot it was to suck on them.

His tongue teased the bud as you ran your fingers through his long hair, kissing the top of his head as he moaned in contentment, feeling like he was in heaven as you massaged your fingers through his scalp.

"Not too hard, Ari," you grumbled as you felt his teeth tease your buds as he grinded his boner up against your thigh. His mind was too clouded by your tits in his face to speak an actual apology, so he hummed one.

"I'm so in love with you, dude," Ari moaned, his lips wet with spit, and a string followed from his lips when he pulled his mouth away. "Don’t call me dude when your dick is literally grinding against me right now." You chuckle, Ari exhaled as he muttered a soft "sorry."

Your head leaned back as his tongue latched back onto your perked nipple. "Jesus, you really know how to use your mouth."

Your fingers combed through the thick hair of his nap, pulling as he grunted, sucking your nipples harder as he coaxed a whimper from your lips.

Pulling away with a small pop, he wiped the spit from his mouth before muttering a more embarrassed apology,

"Um, I think I might have to stop for a bit." His words were slow as your eyes followed his directed glance, noticing the dark spot circled in the form of his jeans.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @prettyeyedmaureen @hprefect @torynicholsgf @viczvaporrub-blog @scoopstrooop @lluvin @heavanskitchen @satansspaghettie @lady-ashfade @angiesdaydreams @thatonefangirlbookworm @slut4norman @kitkatwinchester @fanfictionfreak @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriiddd @ycarlii @irlbeaniebabey @tsukishimawhore @reidspector @xochitlsgolfcart @joukiworld @angel0signal @pungey @knoxvillesshoes @thecreaterofweird @qxeentozier @starkssnarks @dopepersonacloudllama @beepbeeprichie929 @universallygiantwagonhumanoid @katey-sunshine33 @elliebellsblog @cuervooo-gomez @myheartlikesu @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @randomgirlthatlikesalotoffandom @ssereniiityy @niicoisgone comment to be added!

tap here to be added to taglist.

#argyle #argyle x reader #argyle stranger things #eduardo franco #eduardo franco x reader #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

1K notes · View notes

dewitty1 · 1 month

Text

He Comes Like a Thunderstorm

korlaena @korlaena

Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Original Muggle Character(s) Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Creature Fic, Incubus Draco Malfoy, Dragonologist Harry Potter, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Casual Sex, Manhandling, Dirty Talk, Choking, Spanking, Overstimulation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Dom Harry Potter, Switching, Lots of Sex, Past Sexual Assault, past sexual dysfunction, Mentions of Past Abuse From Dursleys and Lucius, Smoking, Drinking, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Jealousy , Accidental Bonding, Misunderstandings, Panic Attack, False Accusations, Angst with a Happy Ending Language: English Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020 Published: 2021-12-01 Completed: 2021-11-30 Words: 140,147

Summary:

Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine. Caught up in a whirlwind of sex and lust, Potter unwittingly shows Draco that his life as an Incubus doesn’t have to be as lonely and unfulfilling as he thought, but how long can it last?

(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*⁺˚. * ･｡ﾟ☆

Excerpt:

The moment was weighty with meaning. There was an uncharacteristically skittish look in Draco’s eyes as the song played softly between them, reciting the last few months of Harry’s life in verse as if it had been written about him.

It had to have meaning, yet Harry filled with nerves as each bar of music rolled on. After months of denying and pushing down his feelings while trying not to read into anything Draco did, it was a terrifying bridge to cross.

The curve of Draco’s neck caught his eye. His jugular was visibly pulsing with the same rapid, nervous beat drumming in Harry’s. It settled his swimming stomach to see evidence that he felt the lyrics as sharply as Harry.

Harry gathered his courage and pulled them closer, leaning forward and dropping his eyes to Draco’s lips. He stopped well before they would touch, looking to Draco’s shadowed eyes with a question.

A trail of magic followed Draco’s hand as it slid up Harry’s arm, landing behind his shoulder. Draco pulled Harry closer as he leaned the rest of the way in. The warm light from the fireplace below threw his face into soft shadows, and the air was charged with anticipation.

Draco’s warm breath ghosted over his lips, and his nose softly bumped Harry’s. Within a second that stretched on like an eternity, they breathed in that same electric excitement buzzing in the air between them. Then Draco’s warm lips pressed to Harry’s.

His body flashed hot and cold. His heart felt like it was gearing up to jump out of his chest, and perhaps his fluttering stomach would fly off with it. He shut his eyes tight against the physical and emotional whirlwind happening inside him.

The kiss was like none other. Harry didn’t know how to classify it. He thought he’d felt the heights of pleasure with Draco, but he was wrong. They’d done nearly everything else they wanted with each other, checking off kinks and curiosities like marking off points of interest on a map during a road trip.

A single press of Draco’s soft lips to his, a curl of his hair tickling Harry’s temple, and their feet tangled together had his heart swelling and breaking through all his carefully erected barriers. Affection burst out like a caged animal feeling the sun on its skin for the first time.

A quiet whine rose up his throat, unintentional and unstoppable as his body shivered with surges of magic and his head swam with hope.

“Harry,” Draco breathed against his lips, soft and trembling with need. In it Harry heard everything he’d been unwilling to hear.

Harry pulled him closer and pressed another kiss to his lips, then another and another. Draco rolled half on top of him, his hands moving like he couldn’t decide which part of Harry he wanted to hold onto—clinging to his shoulders, squeezing his waist, gripping his hair, then finally holding his face in both hands so he could keep him in place as he laid kiss upon kiss on him.

Harry slipped his arms around him and hugged around his waist, squeezing their bodies together. Fingers dug into hot flesh and magic flared under his skin, hot and cold and right.

Draco pushed his tongue into Harry’s mouth, and he couldn’t have held back his moan if he wanted to. Draco moaned back as their tongues twisted together and lips opened and closed against each other, sucking and biting and tasting each other in the one way they’d never permitted themselves before.

Harry rolled fully onto his back, pulling Draco the rest of the way on top of him, filling his senses entirely with Draco. He was everywhere—the weight on his body, the magic under his skin, the sweet scent in his nose, and the taste on his lips. Harry felt drunk on him.

They kissed, and they kissed, then they kissed some more.

₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

#He Comes Like a Thunderstorm #korlaena #Drarry #Drarry fic rec #Fic rec #hp fic rec #draco Malfoy #Harry potter #Drarry fanfiction #Harry potter fanfiction #Fandom Trumps Hate 2020 #hp #drarry squad #Drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #Carey's bookmark Fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks

23 notes · View notes

aortaargent · 11 months

Text

Thinking about Them again and, specifically, Bill adopting a habit of kissing Rita carefully when they begin to build something tentative and reserved between them in the aftermath of the war, when troops roll back and awards are handed out and people are quickly forgotten in the scramble to recoup profits and property and glory in history. He doesn't presume to kiss her whenever he pleases, no matter how much he imagines himself taking one step forward and angling his head and cupping a sharp elbow or firm muscled waist. Rita takes her affection like her coffee, on her terms, when she wants it and most usually when she's made it herself. (Or, not at all.) But for him to kiss her temple, in the morning - Because Bill won't ever wake up as early as Rita does by routine, and so he always goes to look for her as soon as he's swung his legs down over the side of the creaking-spring bed and the soft quilt they shared in it. And he might pad across old wooden floors and over older quarry tiles barefoot to find her sitting at the table of her kitchen - a gift, in an uncertain world where war heroes get abruptly awarded a townhouse in the leafiest London suburb as a thanks for their face and pain and blood. The stove would be lit, warm, and the coffee's steam catches sunlight, and Rita sits alone, watching new branches of soft white flowers tap on the dated windowpanes. - she'll accept a kiss, just by her hairline, against the scar that crosses to her eyebrow and stands stark against her skin. She'll make a low noise, between humming and a huff, acknowledgement made habitually rough by years of smoke and curtness and army manners. And she'll lean into the dry brush of his mouth, as his hand rests light on the back of her chair. Just a little. (And Bill feels a little electrified, every time, in the morning and the quiet - with his mouth pressed right to the scar he sometimes lets his eyes trace in the middle of the night when Rita sleeps on her side, facing the door and facing him, and he can't sleep because it's one of those nights that he's convinced himself will reset once he sleeps, and all of this will fade away into his head on a canvas bag or the sound of a chopper blade.) His kiss always touches the same point of her scar, then a second brush, lower, the exact beat of three seconds. Rita makes coffee with exact grams, exact timing, and keeps the same mugs facing her from the cupboard in the morning. They have days upon days of infinite and changing possibility to live, now - and neither of them ever really thought of the unknowable, inexplicable difficulty of losing a loop's perfect routine. To come out the other side, finally, joyfully - and carry a gut-seated unease that persists and persists as things change in a million small daily ways.

It helps, to have coffee together. And they do, every morning that they can, with Rita's ankle pressed against Bill's under the rough oak table that reminds him of an empty home and dusty garage in France that she's never seen.

#I'M SORRY I HAVE FEELINGS #bill cage #rita vrataski #the inherent romance of a time loop #you can't give me “i wish i didn't know you. but i do” and not expect me to ship it #edge of tomorrow #having silly little thoughts and typing my silly little words

76 notes · View notes

dontbesoweirdkira · 8 days

Note

PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU MORE OF SAMMY HUHU

A/N: no this totally didn’t take me forever to respond to the ask….this was originally going to be Sam being a lot darker but I decided to give y’all something cute to munch on. Yandere sam being a sweetie pie for ONCE…. Thank you for requesting bb💓🥰

Warnings: FLUFFFFF UR SAFEEEE

Asks: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam’s lower body pressed up against your back and he watched you intently through the vanity you were seated at.

You hadn’t even noticed that he’d come home and walked into your room until you had felt his body against yours.

His cold fingers slowly traced up along your exposed arm and around your neck, sending a sharp chill down your spine.

Many worries ran through your poor little head…You never truly know what version of Sam is going to walk through that door and greet you.

By this point you were far too frightened to make any sudden moves, or to speak, you waited until he broke the silence.

“Sorry doll, I kept you waiting longer than usual…”

Was he going to be sweet and charming or an erratic son of a bitch today?

He took a second to pinch the bridge of his nose and let out an exhaustive sigh,

“…Paulie got shitfaced again and I promised Tom that this time I’d get him home and-“

Taking another frustration break he ran his fingers through his thick black, greasy hair before speaking one more…

“-you know what it’s all bullshit. I don’t want to think too much about it. I just really missed you today.”

Still being cautious about your actions , you mustered up a smile and shot it up at him through the vanity mirror.

“I-I’m happy to hear that Sammy. I missed you too, of course.”

A soft hum of approval escaped his mouth as he soaked in your loving words. You could feel both the tension in the air and in his body relax. As much as he would never admit out loud, Sam was just about always desperate for your admiration…nothing in this world could affect him like your love does. Even if it wasn’t real from your end…

“Are you getting ready for bed, y/n?”

He motioned down towards the hairbrush that you were using just moments before he interrupted your nighttime routine.

“Mhmm… I was thinking about just braiding my hair tonight instead of putting it into rollers like I usually do. I have a lot of hair.” You let out a halfhearted laugh

He nodded

You felt the pressure from your back lift as he walked away from you and headed towards the closet.

Curious as to what he was up to, you turned in your seat to face him.

Sam proceeded to take off and hang up his jacket, roll up his dress shirt sleeves, and light a cigarette he had stored in the back of his pocket.

“Sam?”

Winking, he made his way back over to you, and pressed his body up against yours once more.

He took one hand and ruffled your hair a bit, inspecting it in his own strange way. The other removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke into the air.

“You sure do have a lot of hair sweetheart.”

“Y-yeah I know…I’ll be done with it in a few minutes. I promise I won’t take long before coming to bed.” You looked up at him with a worried expression.

Shaking his head and grabbing the brush out of your hand, he spoke.

“I’m afraid I cannot let you do this by yourself. I kept you waiting all night to go help a friend, I think I owe you something in return.”

In disbelief you let out a chuckle, there’s no way Sam Trapani knew how to do your hair. He nearly dies trying to get his own hair to sit right in the morning.

“Umm respectfully, I think this is out of your skill level. I don’t want a bird’s nest tomorrow.”

Not immediately responding, Sam took a deep puff of his cigarette before leaning down into your ear.

“Why can’t you just shut the fuck up and let me do something nice for ya?”

Still being amused by this, you let out a giggle

“Okay Sammy. I’ll trust you…”

Sam blew the smoke that was trapped into his lungs into your face before giving you a soft peck on the cheek.

“That’s my good girl.”

He began playing with your locks, trying to part it but only tangling it, then using the brush to try to fix it but only making it worse. Definitely turns you away from the mirror so you can’t see what he’s doing once he realizes he’s fucked up.

“How’s it going darling?”

“Your hair has never been so soft and silky, y/n. You’re going to love your new hair when you’re done.”

“Ahh so you don’t mind if I stop by your lunch break with this hair?”

“…”

“….I’ll leave you money on the table tomorrow so you can go to the salon.”

#headcanon #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #mafia definitive edition #mafia trilogy #yandere sam trapani #sam trapani fanart #sam trapani x reader #sam trapani #fluff #oneshot #tommy angelo x reader #paulie lombardo x reader #yandere mafia #mafia imagines #mafia iii #mafia ii #mafia game

18 notes · View notes

ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Text

A look to open up the skies // e.m x gn!reader

A/N: I, the author, wanted to chat with Wayne on the trailer steps and spend some time with him. Talk about Eddie and how good and kind he is even with how rough his life has been. Wrote this on my work breaks across a few days so I hope it makes sense! No word count available because my laptop is at a repair shop so I can’t do my usual counts.

Total self-insert and self-indulgent but it's all about the moment and no reader details given!💕

TW; reader smokes (I don't smoke myself so apologies for inaccuracies, it was a creative liberty I took with the piece to give Wayne & Y/N something to do together), cigarettes, canon angst surrounding Eddie & how rough his life has always been, reader cries, confessions, bonding with Wayne.

Fic specific tags: @disturbedbeautywrites @comfortcharactercraze @decadentpaperduck @munsonsuccubus @eponaartemisa @epicfallenismine @silky-luxe @jslittlebirdie @lancey-mcclain

Eddie & Wayne tags: @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @epicfallenismine @comfortcharactercraze

Eddie Munson tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy

(SEND AN ASK TO BE PUT ON MY EDDIE & WAYNE TAGLIST OR ON MY EDDIE TAGLIST OR BOTH)

"Oh, I know that look. Seen it 'fore a few times." There's a fond knowing in Uncle Wayne's voice as he joins you on the trailer steps, the look on his face is one of concern and patience. He had long ago learned that you opened up like a flower; slowly and then all at once. But only if you weren't pressured. That made you clam up so fast no one would even know you had been thinking of opening up. You were a lot like Eddie in that respect.

Wayne busies himself with lighting up a cigarette, offering one to you as well with a casualness borne from familiarity and routine. You often sit out on the steps together, just like this, about everything and nothing and all those fascinating spaces in between. You take a cigarette and hold it in your fingers, not making a move to smoke it. Just holding it as Wayne's warmth sunk into you like a hug, causing that stinging in the backs of your eyes and nose. You inhale deeply and Wayne shakes his head as he exhales his first lungful.

"Don't hold it in," he glances at you, still holding that cigarette with a faraway look in your eyes, "that shit's as bad for you as these things are." He lights up your cigarette for you... Another easy display of affection which makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

At his fatherly words, you do cry, you let yourself go a little. Wayne shuffles across the steps to you, holds the cigarette in the other hand so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder. He is unmoving, just lets you cry and breathe in your own time. The nicotine helps.

The Munsons have always encouraged you to blossom in your own time and way, with no judgement or hesitation.

"Just been thinking about Eddie," you sniffle. You totally miss the way Wayne's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but you do feel him stiffen up, and you shake your head, "not like that," your voice is gentle in an attempt to soothe the way Wayne immediately gets defensive of Eddie. That protective streak of his has definitely been inherited by Eddie, and the intensity of it always takes your breath away. "He's had it so rough, all his life, but he's - " crying harder now, Wayne begins to rub your shoulder and upper arm in slow and fluid motions. "He's still so kind and he's so good, and he - " you swipe your tears away, turn your face away from Wayne to do so. He gives you that space easily, not a word said about it.

Life with the Munsons has always been so natural and free.

"He deserves so much better and I don't know, I just got thinking about it and then I got all sad so I came outside so Eddie couldn't see me... Didn't wanna make him upset either."

Wayne is staring off towards the Mayfield trailer, eyebrows knit together in contemplation as he listens to you. "I seen a lot of what Eddie went through... Always wanted to protect him. Took him in as soon as I had a chance. Was tough, for a while there - " Wayne made a noise you weren't sure how to interpret. Disgust? Disappointment? Derision? "His old man taught him well. Too well, you ask me. Best thing those pieces of shit did, sending him to me. Not that the kid had a choice.” Oh, there was a story. You didn’t ask; wasn’t the time nor the place. “Had to fight like hell to teach him all the right things after what they did to him but my boy's done me proud."

You smile at the love in Wayne's voice. You have always loved and admired the relationship Wayne and Eddie had with each other. If there was a real father and son dynamic in all of Hawkins, it’s between the Munsons. And they live on the edge of town. Both belonging and not.

"I just... Eddie is so good even with everything he's been through and still goes through... Does he even realise how brave that is? To choose to be kind, even though being mean would be..." Easier? Is what you don't say.

Wayne always understands, no matter how much you leave unsaid. He's seen the world and its many cruelties, he always gets it. "I suppose he has his ways of getting through it," you were so lost in your head still that you didn't realise that Wayne was lighting up another cigarette. You had barely smoked the one you were holding, ash falling onto the trailer steps, so he didn't offer you another one. It was a bad habit anyway. "We all do. He's got his music, his guitar, his Hellfire and the friends he's made with them kids... And he's got you. Me. He's not alone in it."

We protect him.

Is what you're both thinking.

You both lapse into silence but it's your sniffle and the way you press into Wayne's hold that makes him rest his chin against the side of your head.

"You tell him?"

You shake your head. "Didn't know how. Eddie just... Brushes it off. But I've heard him cry when he thinks he's alone and if I try to go in there, he stops or - " I'm not sure if he'd appreciate me crying over him.

“No, my boy, he…” Wayne shakes his head, “he’s gonna wanna hear this, darlin’. He doesn’t think he deserves love… even now, I gotta fight him just to let me in sometimes. But he does. He’s brave,” Wayne nods at you, “and you gotta be brave now. For him. Tell him, Y/N. If not for you,” Wayne shrugs, smiles in a way which isn’t happy but isn’t sad, either. Just weary. Knowing. “Then for Eddie.” He coughs on the exhale in a quiet laugh and your eyes widen. Wayne answers your unvoiced question. “Yeah, I hear you when you think you’re alone. ‘Do it for Eddie’ when you gotta take care of you and don’t wanna. This is the same, you ask me.” Wayne hugs you to him tighter, drops another kiss to the top of your head. Quick, casual, but it means so much to the both of you. Your pleased hm makes Wayne smile; both you and Eddie react to being touched like a cat. You both lean in initially and then totally relax into it. "Eddie's got enough'a them walls up, Y/N. Don't you go giving him another." Wayne encourages you, gives you guidance and a light warning, all in two sentences. Only a Munson can pull that off.

Silence lapses again and Wayne finishes his cigarette, stands with a final gentle pat to your shoulder, and goes back inside the trailer. Leaving you with your thoughts and a quiet sense of determination.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 x reader #eddie baby #eddie munson headcanon #send me eddie things plsssss #stranger things x reader #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson

349 notes · View notes