#if you then actually fall of your bike and hit your head

[wheeboo]

run to you | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which your best friend picks you up in the middle of the night. PAIRING. biker!best friend!lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, lil angst, best friends to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, implied that reader lives in a troubled household, lil description of a twisted ankle, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.7k

notes: finally have something written for dino!! i haven't written anything for him in a HOT min that this almost feels out of character for some reason 😭 anyways enjoy <3

Chan doesn't understand why simply the sight of your name lighting up his phone has his heart quickening, head spinning, and adrenaline rushing all in a single moment. But he doesn't give it much thought, his hand instinctively pressing the answer button as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

He brings his phone up to his ear, calling out your name, "Y/N?"

"Hey, um..." Your voice is shaky on the other line, barely above a whisper, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like pain, and it sends a snake of worry up his back. "...can you do me a favour real quick?"

Chan glances at the time on his phone for a brief second, brows furrowing at the late time displayed on the screen. He sits up in bed, already somehow feeling more awake than just a few seconds ago. "Yeah, uh, what's up?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air, heavier than the late-night quiet pressing against Chan's window. He can almost hear your nervous inhale and picture the hesitant frown on your face.

"I left my... well, actually my entire skateboard bag... at your place," You admit quietly, sheepishly. "Could you possibly... drop it off at my door? It's really late, I know, but𑁋"

"Where are you?" Chan asks frantically and seriously that it cuts you off. He hears the way your breath hitches in your throat at the tone of his voice, and it only makes him more apprehensive and his heart hammering against his ribs anxiously. "Are you at the skate park?"

Crap, he knows. He always knows. "Look, I just... needed to clear my head and took a little fall. I'm fine, can you just𑁋"

"Stay put," he commands, leaving no room for argument. "I'm coming to get you."

"What? No, Chan, it's fine𑁋"

He cuts you off, refusing to hear your protests. "Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

He hangs up before you can utter another word, quickly tossing a shirt on and grabbing his keys, helmet (and a second one), and of course, your skateboard bag. As Chan throws the bag over his shoulder, a sharp pang of worry hits him. He knows you're downplaying the fall and everything else going on, but the tremor in your voice paints a different picture in his mind, and he seems to be listening to his heart more than he ever thought he would.

All he could think about is you.

Chan knows not to pry, but it isn't the first time this has happened𑁋where you 'clear your head' in the middle of the night and run away from home for a few hours. But the thought of you alone and hurt gnaws at him more than he cares to admit.

Pushing aside the questions and worries for later, Chan rushes out the door, the roar of his motorcycle echoing through the hushed night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. As he speeds towards the familiar silhouette of the skate park, a million scenarios play in his mind, each one twisting his gut tighter. He forces them down, focusing only on one𑁋getting to you and making sure you're okay.

The wind whips past Chan's helmet, carrying with it the sting of the cool night air and the echo of your shaky voice. He rounds the last corner, the skate park coming into view, bathed in the dim glow of a streetlamp. He catches a single glance of your figure leaning against wall with your skateboard abandoned not that far away, and his heart jumps into his throat.

He throws the bike into a skid that leaves a dark streak on the pavement, the gravel crunching beneath his tires and the engine sputtering to a halt just beside you. You flinch at the sudden noise, looking up with wide, surprised eyes. Before you can speak, he's already hopping off and jogging towards you.

Something jumps in your stomach when he takes off his helmet, the streetlamp above illuminating the worry etched on his features and windswept, messy hair. Chan kneels before you, the gravel biting into his knees as his gaze takes note of the way you're gingerly clutching down at your ankle.

The concern in his eyes makes your defenses crumble. You open your mouth to explain, but he silences you with a gentle hand on your knee.

"Don't talk," he murmurs, voice surprisingly soft. "Let me see."

He gently pushes your hand away, his touch sending a spark through your already jittery nerves, calloused fingers lightly brushing against away the dirt clinging to your slightly swollen ankle. You wince at the contact, breath hitching at the unexpected touch. It's not painful, but it's strangely electrifying.

"It looks swollen," he states, carefully brushing his thumbs over the affected area. "Can you put any weight on it?"

You hesitantly try to wiggle your toes, wincing when a sharp pain shoots up your leg.

"Fuck, ow," You whisper, biting your lip. You feel the shame and embarrassment burn at your cheeks, making you want to sink into the cool concrete beneath you.

He's always right; you weren't fine. You hadn't been fine for a long time, but admitting it to yourself felt like opening a dam of emotions you weren't sure you could contain the longer you stay here, and you aren't sure if Chan being in front of you was helping with that or not.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Chan asks, voice a low rumble that vibrates through the gravel where he kneels. You can't help but meet his gaze, searching for judgment, but finding only concern and a hint of something deeper you couldn't decipher, or didn't want to acknowledge.

You shrug, hating how weak the gesture feels, pulling back your leg away from him slightly. "It's okay, just a twist."

Chan's jaw clenches, the concern on his face morphing into something else, something you couldn't quite place. "Just a twist? Y/N, it's the middle of the night, you're alone at the skate park, and you can barely stand. It's not okay."

You feel your chest tighten. "I told you I just needed to get some air. You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I'm fine."

His eyes narrow, and you catch a glimpse of something raw and intense flickering in them.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks, coming out a bit harsher than intended. "What if you... what if something bad happened and you couldn't call for help? Do you think I wouldn't want to be the one to find you?"

His words hit you like a physical blow. You flinch, the vulnerability you'd so carefully guarded threatening to spill out. God, you hate that he could see through you, hate that he cares so much, hate that you couldn't hate it no matter how much you tried.

"No," You mumble, swallowing back the heat threatening in your eyes. "I don't think you're stupid. It's just..." Your voice trails off.

"It's just what?" Chan demands, voice tight. "Just another night where you disappear and leave me wondering if you're okay? I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."

His words suspend heavy in the air, the only sounds coming from the occasional crickets and the rhythmic thump of your heart echoing loudly in your ears. You could only stare at Chan, his intense gaze boring into you, and feel a dam within yourself start to slowly crack.

Chan lets his eyes roam over you, and a twinge of guilt seems to twitch at his lips, his eyes softening noticeably, but barely. He lets out a sigh.

"Come on," he says firmly. "I can't let you stay here alone, not tonight. Let me take you back to my place, okay?" His eyes hold yours for a beat longer than necessary, a silent plea struggling beneath the surface.

He rises from the ground and offers you his hand. The heat radiating from his skin sends a familiar jolt through you. Hesitantly, you place your hand in his, his fingers warm and calloused as they intertwine together clumsily, like you're testing some type of waters. Then he lifts you with surprising ease, the sudden movement sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through your ankle, making you tighten your grip on his hand.

"Sorry," he murmurs, concern flickering in his eyes. "Let me know if it's too much."

You shake your head, unable to find your voice. You're a tangled mess of emotions𑁋relief, embarrassment, and a fluttering nervousness that you can't quite explain. He helps you onto the back of his motorcycle and secures the extra helmet around your head, before stepping away to collect your skateboard from the ground. Then you feel his hand cup over yours, bringing it to secure around his waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours sending shivers down your spine.

"Hold on tight," he instructs. As the engine rolls to life, you feel the vibration through your body, and you scoot yourself impossibly closer to him, tightening your hold around his abdomen even more.

The ride to his apartment is a blur of streetlights and rushing wind. You cling to him even more, not entirely sure if it's for balance or something more, but it's awfully comforting and... intimate.

You lean your head on his back and breathe in the familiar scent of leather and warmth that seems to calm you more than it should. Shifting your eyes up, you steal a glance at Chan, the moonlight casting long shadows across his determined jaw and windblown hair. You can feel his muscles tense and relax with every shift of the bike, and a strange sense of safety washes over you. You feel a slight tug at your lips at the thought.

As the motorcycle comes to a stop outside Chan's apartment, you linger for a moment, the gentle rumble of the engine fading into the quiet night as he puts it into park. The warmth of his body still lingers onto yours as he takes off his helmet and hops off the bike, before turning around to help with yours.

The brush of your hands against each other sends a jolt through the two of you. Chan quickly pulls away, his hand hovering awkwardly by your helmet, but the heaviness in the air lingers. You look up at him, his gaze flickering between your face, before he fully slips the helmet off your head, hand lingering in the strands of your hair for a moment.

He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"I, uh... should get you inside," he finally says.

You only give a nod. But as you attempt to step off the bike, the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg, bringing a wince to your face.

"Here," Chan says quickly, kneeling before you again. "Let me help."

He carefully scoops you up in his arms, the familiar scent of leather and warmth enveloping you once more. This time, you don't try to pull away, your heart pounding against his chest as he carries you inside.

He takes you to his kitchen, helping you sit on top of the counter, and you can't help but let out a quiet, soft sigh of relief. As he draws away from you to rummage through the drawers, you glance around his kitchen, noting the small stack of dishes in the sink, the motorcycle magazines scattered across his little eating area, and an empty bowl of cereal𑁋a glimpse into his life you hadn't seen before.

It's silent when it all happens, almost too silent it's suffocating. But as Chan comes back to you with an ice pack and a bottle of pills, you could only watch him. The soft light from the hanging lamp above bathes his face in a warm glow, and you catch the way his gaze lingers on your face a moment too long.

He reaches out, gently placing the ice pack on your swollen ankle. His touch is light, almost tentative, yet the cold feeling makes you flinch, but Chan's hand rests gently on the skin above your ankle, the other cupping at your knee. There's a part of you that wants to pull away from him, from everything happening right now, but you don't. You don't want to. You can't. He's worried, frustrated, and maybe even a little hurt, and you understand why. You've pushed him away again, and he's tired of it.

"I..." You start, a tremor betraying your words. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Chan glances up at you. "But you did," he replies lowly. "You always do. And it scares the hell out of me."

The tension hangs thick in the air as Chan's words sink in.

"I-I'm sorry, I really am," You mutter, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "It's just... things are hard at home, and I don't know how to deal with it. Being away just seems to... clear it all up a little bit, you know?"

"Then why run away when you can run to me?" He's standing right in front of you at this point, one hand still on your knee.

"Why do care you so much?" You counter almost defensively, feeling yourself tense right under his gaze.

"Because the more this happens, the more I realise I don't want to be your friend anymore," he answers simply, then lowers his voice. "I can't be... just your friend anymore when I want to be the person you run to."

The world freezes. Everything freezes, and you could only stare at him with widened eyes and a pure look of shock. Nothing but silence stretches between the two of you, and the hammering in your chest only grows stronger by each passing second.

Chan lowers his gaze to the floor, taking his hand off your knee and running it through his hair. "Fuck, I shouldn't have..." He catches a glimpse of the bottle of pain medication right next to you. "Let me get you some water𑁋"

"No, wait." You grab at his hand, causing him to halt, and he looks back at you. "Don't... go yet, please?"

Chan hesitates, before giving in, finding himself standing right back in front of you, the two of you almost eye-level. Except you shoot a quick look at his lips, then up to his eyes, before letting the hand wrapped around his wrist pull him even closer to you, to the point where he's almost standing between your legs.

His breath hitches from the sudden closeness, but he shouldn't be like this right now. Not when you're hurt and vulnerable. He can't tell you that he wanted you the moment you met two years ago when you rolled past him one day on the way to the same skate park, can't tell you that he would choose you over everything else in a heartbeat.

But all those thoughts are pushed away the moment he feels your lips on his, and his hands come naturally to your waist, as if afraid you might slip away. His lips seemingly mold perfectly with yours, and you can feel the longing in the way his fingers seem to tighten its hold on your shirt.

Your lips part for a brief moment, and there's a long moment that passes before Chan leans in again, capturing your mouth a bit more fervently, a bit more passionately than before, yet nonetheless still sweet and tender. The world outside disappears, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the gentle glow of the kitchen light above.

When you both pull away, there's a breathless pause.

"Are you... are you okay?" he asks cautiously. "I'm sorry, it just..."

"No, I'm... I should say sorry for... everything," You cut him off. "I shouldn't have made you worried or... pushed you away. I'm sorry."

"All I ever want is to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His hand is back at your knee again, finger tracing reassuring shapes, easing the tension out of your body.

You let out a nervous, light-hearted chuckle. "We're not even together yet and I'm already causing you so much trouble."

Chan's expression softens, and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Who said I wasn't yours yet?" He leans back in, teasing his lips back against yours. "I can be, if you want me to be."

another note: ending is a lil rushed im sorry oops i wrote this rlly late 😭

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

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[rizzanon]

childhood friend! Shinichiro Sano

part 1 (here) | part 2

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you meet for the first time when you were both 8 years old at the playground, wondering why he was standing ontop of the jungle gym, looking at the distance

"Why are you standing up there?"

" 'cuz the view is nice!"

"....Weirdo.."

"H-Hey!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you meet again a few weeks later at his grandfather's dojo where your parents signed you up for some taekwondo classes for self defense

"What are you doing here, weirdo?"

"Hey! I'm no weirdo! And this is my grandfather's place okay? I'm allowed to be here anytime I want!"

"Woahh, your grandfather's the teacher? That's cool!"

"I know right?!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you become friends with over the next few days, watching him miserably fail to show off execute the moves his grandfather taught him to you

"HAHAHAH! You suck at this, y'know."

"Shut up! You don't have to tell me something I already know."

"At this rate, I can beat you easily in a spar..!"

"In your dreams!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who introduces you to his only other friend, Takeomi, and the two of you hit it off very well (much to Shinichiro's dismay)

"I didn't think Shin had other friends."

T- "Neither did I, I thought he made you up."

"H-Hey! What's with this mockery!!?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who ends up going to the same middle school and high school as you much to his delight

"You better stop slacking and start putting in effort in your studies Shin!"

"What are you, my mother?"

-smacks his head-

"Ouch! Okay, okay! I get it!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who hates the fact that his siblings (Manjiro and Emma) love you as much as he does

"Seriously?? I can't believe you all are ganging up on me like this...!—Fake sobs—My very own siblings..."

"It's your fault that I'm just better, heheh."

E- "Yeah! She's way kinder to us that you are, Shin!"

"What?? But I'm always nice to you both too!"

M- "Plus, she always buys us our favourite snacks too!!"

"Bribery at it's finest... I can't believe this.."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always goes to you to get treated whenever he's injured after fighting with other people

"Let me guess, you got into another fight again?"

"Ding ding ding! You guessed correct! Too bad there's no prize."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny Shin. Why don't you go and see an actual doctor to get your injuries treated?"

"Why would I do that when I have you who'll fix me up every time?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always goes to your class during lunch break to find you whenever he forgets to bring his own bento (was it on purpose? you don't know), knowing that you always make extra for him just in case

"Well, well, well, look who decides to forget to bring his bento for the third time this week?"

"Heheh, about that..."

"Don't worry, I made extra food for you."

"Aww, so you do care about me."

"Don't push it, Shin."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who worries that his rising reputation as a delinquent might bring down your reputation as well

"Are you sure you still want to be friends with me? I get it if you don't want to-"

"I already told you, I don't care what people think about me. What matters is what you think of me. That's all."

"...."

"Besides, who else will treat your wounds other than me, hm?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who begs asks you to ride with him on his bike, promising you that he would keep you safe

"You want me to what??!"

"Come on...! Ride with me just this once! I promise you won't fall off."

"If I die, the blame's on you."

"Wha- You won't die! And I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who introduces you to his other two friends in Black Dragons, Wakasa and Benkei, hoping you'd feel more reassured about him leading a gang and being a delinquent after meeting his closest friends

B- "Woah, didn't know you had a girl, Shin. Who's she?"

"What?"

W- "Let's be real, Shin can't flirt for his life."

"Hey! That's rude! I so have game."

"Game of a rock, you mean."

"Oi!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who finds solace in you after every time he gets rejected by a girl he asks out much to your dismay (this was the 20th time)

"I don't get it. What am I doing wrong??!"

"It's simple. You're the problem."

"Rude... but seriously, why won't any girl date me? I'm certainly not that bad of a boyfriend if they gave me a chance...!"

"Well firstly, do you even have any interest in any of those girls you asked out? How do you even move on so easily?!?"

"If you put it like that... no, not really. I just want to date someone for the highschool experience y'know..!"

-smacks his head-

"Ouch!"

"No wonder no girl ever takes your confession seriously. Plus, your hair is so gelled up, no girl's gonna like that... Once a weirdo, always a weirdo."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who listens to your advice, and stops using gel as often as he used to on his hair, sometimes leaving his hair down to find out what you'd say about it

"You didn't put gel on your hair today?"

"Nope, I was kind of in a rush today, haha.."

"Well... you look... better like this, if I'm being honest."

"R-Really??"

"Yeah, keep this up and someday, a girl might accept your confession."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who tells you about the rumors he's been hearing around the school, about how many of the students thought you and him were dating and how he wasn't so opposed to the idea of that

"Wait, seriously?? People think we're dating?!?"

"My reaction exactly. I can't believe they think we're dating!"

"Not that I would mind that though..."

"Hm? What did you say?"

"??! You're hearing things, Shin. I didn't say anything at all..."

Part 2

m.list

#shinichiro sano #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x reader fluff #shinichiro sano x you #shinichiro sano x y/n #shinichiro sano drabble #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #rizzanon

[rougecreator1]

NorthShore Nowheres // part 1

|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader (bit of Cady x fem!reader) (btw I myself am poly)

|| Warnings: loosely follows the movie musical, with reader being Aaron (slight dialogue changes to fit Y/N), light swearing

|| Summary: you're the leader of the NorthShore Nowheres biker gang/clique. The plastics take an interest in you, but so has Cady...

Requested by Anon!

Requests open!

~~~

The sound of your motorcycle filled the parking lot as you zipped through and parked in your usual spot, taking your helmet off and twisting your head slightly in a way that fixed your hair. For the plastics, who had been watching you from the side steps of the school, time seemed to play in slow motion. Watching as you flick your hair and get off your bike. Your walk radiating pure confidence. The girls shared a look with one another.

"We're all in agreement?" Regina asked her girlfriends, who nodded and looked back at you. Watching as you walked past them, heading up the steps and giving the school's polycue a wink.

~~~

You sat in AP Calculus. Not listening to a word Ms Norbury was saying as she stood at the front, hands on her hips and looking out at the rows of students. You simply folded a paper airplane and tossed it at some random kid next to you, making another stifle a laugh as you smirked. The student swatted the paper plane away.

"Y/N L/N." Ms Norbury gave you that signature warning look, which made you roll your eyes and she continued on with her lecture," Chapter one! Limits and their properties. What the heck are limits, you say? If I write out the equation..."

You started zoning out, hand on your chin and elbow on your desk as you stared at the board blankly.

"The limit equals 3." A voice from behind you spoke up, pulling you from your day dreams.

"That's right." Ms Norbury said, sounding surprised. " Let's try another one. Find the value for K for which the following limit exists."

"K equals -3." The girl says again.

"Damn, girl!" Some mathlete kid piped up.

You looked behind at the girl and smirked," Wow. Are you trying to make the rest of us look like dumbasses?"

"No- I'm- I'm not- trying to it's just sort of happening..." She replied, stuttering as she stared at you. Adorable. You laughed.

"Oh? Is that how it is? Okay. Well..." You leaned a little closer," challenge accepted."

You turned around, looking down at your paper with a sigh. The new girl on your mind. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out your pen then gently trailed your hand through your hair as you began working on your paper. Why did you sign up for AP Cal? This class was going to kill you.

Behind you, you heard something fall to the ground and looked to see Cady's pen. You bent down and picked it up, handing it to her with a smile before looking at the board again. You could have sworn you heard music coming from somewhere...

~~~

After school, you were outside with some of your biker gang. Just chatting and hanging out as you fidgeted with your phone. You happened to notice Cady watching you and gave her a small wave. Then turned your attention towards your gang again; when Cady almost got hit by the bus, your eyes widening slightly. You debated going to check on her. But she said that she was okay. Which made you sigh with relief from where you stood a bit away.

~~~

The following day, you and your gang sat at your usual lunchtable. Rough housing with each other, laughing and spreading gossip as you usually do. You glanced over at the plastics table, watching as Regina got up and walked away.

Karen and Gretchen were talking with Cady. "So, have you seen any guys you think are cute yet?" Karen asked.

"Oh, um- not a guy- but well actually there's this girl in my Calculus class." Cady responded.

"Ohhh, a senior! Who is it?" Gretchen replied.

"Ah, Y/N L/N." Cady replied, Karen and Gretchen shared a panicked look.

"You can't like Y/N L/N!" Gretchen said quickly.

"No, no bad, danger." The danger Karen said was loud enough to get your attention, you glanced at them in confusion then rolled your eyes and focused on your group again. Getting shoved by one of your friends who you playfully shoved back and smirked at.

"We're after her so you can't have her." Gretchen states, looking over at you and your gang's table," Crushes are off limits for friends that's just like the rules of feminism."

One of your friends in your gang wrapped an arm around you and started filming a TikTok. Instinctively you winked at the camera then laughed slightly and looked at your friend, who's name was Julia. But no one called her that, pretty much everyone referred to her as Jules. "Jules, girlie. What weird trend are you hoping on now?" You asked with your usual charming smile. Two things you had a reputation for. Being a bad girl. And then your charm, even if you weren't overly popular people still loved you. You just weren't Apex Predator worthy. Possibly like whatever was a few chains down from that, though.

"That one silent review trend. Featuring you." Jules pointed at you and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Definitely tag me in that." She nodded and you gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

~~~

At the end of the day, you and your gang hanged out at your usual bench. With you sprawled out across it and Jules laying across you. You guys were close friends, though there were rumours you were a thing. One of your friends made a joke and you laughed, though it was cut short as the plastics walked over. Regina with her arms folded, Gretchen and Karen following behind.

Regina's intimidation was enough to scare Jules off you (and the rest of your gang). They excused themselves as you sat up, watching the three in confusion. Once again you swore you heard music... with faint jungle sounds?

"Something I can do for you?" You folded your arms, a little annoyed Regina scared off your friends.

"You. Us." Regina gestures to herself, Gretchen and Karen," Date to the movies Friday night. Wear something nice." She looks you up and down, you glance at your baggy jeans and leather jacket before looking at Regina again.

"Is this you inviting me into your polycue?" If you're being honest, you have wanted them for a while. You just didn't want to risk making a fool of yourself. Regina's gaze tells you everything you need to know, so you nod." Alright. Friday night."

Regina smiles and walks over, kissing your cheek before looking towards Cady who had been watching. She beckons Cady over and then walks away from you. Gretchen and Karen linking arms as they giggle, Gretchen sending you a wink. Your face flushes and you look away, making a mental note to be extra careful. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off all three.

~~~

Feedback is welcomed! Probably going to make this a 3 part story (maybe longer depending), each part being about a half an hour chunk of the movie with extra bits added in between. Just so this doesn't become overly long, yk?

#fem reader #wlw fiction #x reader #mean girls #mean girls x reader #canon x reader #fanfic #regina george #regina george x fem!reader #gretchen wieners #gretchen x karen #regina x gretchen #gretchen x reader #karen shetty #karen x reader #polyamory #poly!plastics x reader #poly!plastics #plastics x you #female reader

[sunraies]

hey hun, could you writes a fluff with rafe where you’ve had an argument with a friend and he comforts you x

Of course! I hope this is ok. I think I ran with the argument more than the comfort, but I hope Rafe gives enough. If you need more Rafe and less plot, please let me know x

Tear-stained Cheeks

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings - Fluff and angst. Reader has the nickname, Bug.

After an argument with Sarah, that is so big it could be friendship breaking. You find comfort and shoulder to cry on, in Rafe.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It started over a pair of shoes Sarah had borrowed. It wasn't even about the shoes, but it spiralled as quickly as it started, and soon, you were hurling the most spiteful things at each other.

Using your years of friendship and deepest insecurities to hit each other were you knew it would hurt.

Ever since she started dating John B, your friendship slowly started to fray. It wasn't like you had experienced in with her past relationships, she throw herself completely into them, and you were always there to pick up the pieces.

This time, you weren't prepared to be a broken piece.

That's how you ended up pushing your bike down the long drive of Tanneyhill. Shoes in the basket and tears threatening to spill. You breathed in through your nose, desperately trying not to break before you were away from a place you used to see as a second home.

You focused on the warmth of the sun on your face, the sound of the bike wheels spinning, anything to stop yourself spiralling.

"Hey!" You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice as his truck pulled up beside you. "Where you going, Bug?"

Of course, Rafe came home at that exact moment. The teasing tone of his voice, you couldn't deal with. Bug was something he'd always called you. It was meant to be an insult when you were children, and it just stuck.

You didn't respond and kept walking, causing him to frown. Normally you’d have some sassy remark or a come back to make him smile.

Rafe was just as much a part of your life as Sarah was. The annoying but unfairly gorgeous best friend's older brother. Your relationship was built on teasing, hating, and loving each other. As you grow, so did new feelings, and a few stolen kisses had been shared through the years, but nothing ever came of them.

"Bug?" His voice sounded more concerned.

You sniffed and straight your back, hoping your voice wouldn't break when you finally spoke to him.

"I'm going home." You had no such luck as your voice cracked.

"With your parents away? Weren't you staying here?"

"Well, plans change. Maybe I could throw a massive party. Who knows?" The only party you actually planned was a pity party for one, with your bed.

Rafe actually laughed. "You having a house party? Never thought I'd see that day." He tilted his head, looking you up and down. "Was it Sarah's idea?"

Of course, he would think Sarah was the one who would make you have a party in your parents' artefact filled house. They were both archaeologists. The funny part was that before the argument, she had been suggesting it. A pogue and kook party in your parents' manor style home.

Her name pierced your heart, and all you could do was shake your head as the tears that had been threatening to finally fall.

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa." Rafe quickly stumbled out of the truck, leaving the engine running and door wide open.

He gently took your face in his hands as your nose wrinkled, a tiny sob heaved from your chest. You dropped your bike on the grass as you held onto his wrists. Everything suddenly came crushing down. The weight of every hurtful word feeling like a brick on your chest.

His thumbs brushed the tears away as they kept falling. "Breathe for me, baby." He got you to copy his steady breaths as his blue, concerned, filled eyes searched your face.

Rafe checked quickly for any physical injury before pulling you into his chest. You could hear his heart beating just as rapidly as yours as his arms circled your shoulders and hands cradled your head. Calming shushes uttered from his lips as your sobs turned to slient hiccups.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He needed to know who the fuck made you cry and who to kill.

"Sarah," you sighed into his chest, your tears having soaked his shirt.

"Sarah's a bitch" He said without missing a beat.

"Then I'm a bitch too. We both said some pretty fucked up things" You still clung to the back of his shirt as you muttered.

"You can be," He admitted, but his tone was completely teasing. "The difference is, I like you"

You laughed, unable to help it as you let go, pulling back after he placed a kiss on your head. You wiped your eyes roughly and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand as you sniffed. "I'm sorry about the shirt"

He pulled it out to look at the watermark you left behind and shrugged before looking back at you, "Even with tear-stained cheeks and snort, your beautiful"

"Shut up." you hit his shoulder but still smiled at him as he held your hand in place.

Sarah appeared in the doorway. "Can we talk?" She asked. You turned to look at her as Rafe threw a protective arm over your shoulders.

Your smile immediately dropped, and Rafe shot Sarah a look so deadly that if looks could kill, she'd be laying stone cold right there.

"Not right now, Sarah." Rafe called over to her. "I'm taking Bug to get ice cream"

"How does ice cream sound, baby?" He glanced down at you as you nodded.

"Ice cream sounds perfect"

Rafe drove you to the ice cream parlour, his hand in your lap as Sarah was left watching you take comfort from her brother while your bike lay abandoned on the grass. The shoes long forgotten.

#rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe x reader #outerbanks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks angst #rafe request

[indouloureux]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤)

summary: steve picks you up when you crash your car after your break-up. and you both realize things you wish you realized sooner.

warnings: 7k. smut 18+ mdni, blood, car crash, angst, fluff, allusions to smut, accusations of emotional cheating, idiots in love (based on the song 'flower in the dark' by fiji blue). slight sub!steve, facesitting, less dirty talk, small smut beCAUSE, creampie? cum eating, kinda sucky

a/n: takes place several months after s4, meaning this takes somewhere early 1987, which explains the INXS song. hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It happened so suddenly.

One minute you’re listening to a-ha, the next you’re swerving your car tremendously to the side to avoid a crossing cat. Your car hits a tree, hard and unforeseen, hurling you almost onto the dashboard and through the windscreen had it not been for the airbag. Your forehead meets the hard leather of your steering wheel, hefty enough that it makes you bleed just beneath your hairline.

There’s loud ringing in your ears, your eyesight fooling you into thinking you might be underwater. The hood of the car is bent, bunched in uneven folds and dark smoke seeping through the unhinged bumper, full of dents and thrown onto the ground. And fuck, your head hurts and your nose is bleeding. You know damn well the car might explode in a couple minutes, but you’re too weak to move.

Along with the faint memory of the cars screeching against the uneven asphalt road, there’s panicked chattering behind your car. With a hand on your forehead, you weakly reach over to open the door, but a stranger beats you to it—the woman keeping her arms stretched out to keep you from falling before you feel her hands around your waist, dragging you up from your slowly burning car.

It’s a cluster of are you okay? What happened? Someone called the ambulance! (you almost snapped at the second question. “I hit my car, dipshit. The fuck does it look like?”).

In that blurry haze, you remember being sat down in someone's car, someone saying that a truck’s coming to pick your car up, and if you wanted to be driven to the nearest phone booth. 

You end up being dropped off at a phone booth right outside Hawkin’s Post. The woman had been kind enough to give you a cold beer for your forehead, and some rag she found in her glovebox to wipe the blood off your face. You hear how quick she left when the ringing left your ears, the way her wheels screeched the same way yours did before you hit the tree; you’re stumbling your way inside the confined box and picking up the phone, only to stare at the numbers blankly.

You’ve got no one to call.

No one knows where you live other than Robin, who doesn’t have a license and you couldn’t take the risk; Dustin, who’s not of age yet and god knows how he’d drive; Max…absolutely not. Nancy? With Jonathan on a date. Mike? You’d actually prefer having your face smashed into a windscreen than him driving you home. Lucas? Can ride a bike but almost crashed your car one time.

Five of them don’t even have cars.

Which leaves you to one last person.

Your heart pounds at the thought of him. Minds visibly debating if you should be petty and walk yourself home, or if you should suck it up and call him and just let yourself dwell in his passenger seat in this pity blood puddle as he tries to talk to you.

There’s sweat coating the thin epidermis of your hand, the material of the phone buttons burning beneath your fingertip as you dial his numbers. Your head aches, still even after the cold bear that’s now warming on your other hand, and you feel like your nose has been dislocated. And with the bottom half of your face crossing the border of numbness, you could faintly feel something drip down your nose.

Eleven digits pressed ten seconds later, the phone rings. You rest your head on the switchhook with the receiver hot against your ear as you hear the loud ringing. You wait, maybe ten seconds. Until it turns twenty to almost thirty before you hear the sound of a phone being picked up.

“Harrington residenc… ah, screw it. Hello?”

You don't speak, nervously twirling the handset line in your index finger as you stare blankly at the number pads, wondering what he might look like right now. There’s a statical silence filling your ear, and you try your best to let out a hushed deep breath.

“Hello?” he repeats.

Finally, you blink. “Steve?”

It’s his turn to stay quiet, like he’s processing whose voice he heard. You hear his soft huffs through his nose, and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the headache.

“(y/n)?”

You smile a little. “Yeah. It’s me.”

You hear shuffling before he speaks again. “Hey. Um- what’s up?”

“I…” you suck your cheeks in, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I crashed my car.”

“What?!”

“I’m fine!” you reassure him. “Just…can you pick me up? I’m- I’m outside Hawkins Post and I can't really walk to where I was supposed to go. It’s too far…”

There’s a second of silence. An entire second that he’s given himself to decide. And you don't expect him to immediately say, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

He came in five minutes.

You wonder if he’s passed the speed limit, ran through red lights and ignored speed bumps just so he could get to you. And the thought of it makes your heart ache — in the worst way. ‘Cause now you’re thinking if he’s that eager to see you, or that eager to help you, or just to get this over with. And just the thought of him being excited to see you?

It sets a confusing flame in your chest.

Steve exits his car. Striped shirt and tight dark blue jeans in all his disheveled eminence. You push yourself away from the phone booth, the lack of shade straining your eyes, but Steve jogs up to you and blocks the sun with his height.

“Hey,” his eye squints, hair not large enough to block the sunlight. “Jesus, (y/n), you’re bleeding.”

His hand comes up to touch gently on your forehead, where you wince at the contact of his fingertips on something raw. Steve tuts, muttering an apology before he’s fully cupping your face, but his apology doesn’t matter.

Not when he’s touching your face like it’s a normal thing for him to do. Like he used to back in those forgotten summer mornings and winter nights, with the way he cradles your face like a vase full of wilting flowers. But Steve doesn’t look into your eyes. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he’s looking at the laceration on your forehead. And it feels familiar.

(Maybe when Billy Hargrove had almost beaten him to a pulp. And you remember Steve laying unconsciously between your legs at the back of Billy’s car, his face in your hands, slipping between the gates of consciousness.)

“What happened?” he asks, his hair falling over to cover the worry lines on his forehead.

“Saw a cat,” you murmur, cheeks flushing from his touch and you hope he doesn't feel it. “I swerved and I crashed into a tree. My car’s done for and- and my head hurts.”

“Course it does, ‘y crashed your car,” he mutters. And when Steve finally looks into your eyes, the worry shifts into a quick wave of realization that he’s still holding your face so casually. You see him swallow thickly, dropping his hands to his sides where he palms the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got um, tissue. And water in the back of my car. We should get-get in. It’s getting hot.”

You follow him, watch as he opens the door for you and guides you in. Steve pushes his hair back as he crosses, walking over to his side until he’s sat beside you and slams the door closed. He doesn’t look at you yet, like he’s still preparing himself to look at you as he reaches behind to pull out two water bottles. Steve hastily gives them to you before he’s opening the glove box, pulling out a box of tissues and a bottle of alcohol, as well as a small box of bandaids.

Pointing at the tissue box, you furrow your eyebrows. “You still have that?”

The box of tissues he bought specially for Eleven. He’d complained to you before, how she always used her sleeve instead of buying a handkerchief to carry around so she’d wipe her blood off. And when you’d told him to do something about it himself, he bought everyone tissue packs — “Just in case one of you is with this kid and she starts bleeding again.”

You still have yours dug deep in a bag hidden in your cabinet. Dusted and unused.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Kid’s back in Hawkins. God knows what might happen again. Even though the gates are closed now,”

“Dunno. Maybe the Russians are opening a gate again. We weren't so sure last time, right?”

“Only because some burnt middle aged man with powers decides to terrorize teens and open four huge gates,” Steve reaches over to swerve the AC to your direction, taking a bottle from your lap to open it. He shoves it in your hands, elbow on the steering wheel and he finally looks at you. “Drink up. You might get a heatstroke. Or you might pass out.”

You grimace at him.

Steve eyes you like something he’s lost his entire life. That wonder of unexpected reconciliation that makes his heart beat unwinding, because you’re talking to him. You called him for help; and even though Steve knows he’s not exactly your first choice for help, there’s a candle of hope offered to him. He watches you drink from the plastic bottle, trembling hand grasping it tight against you as you drink with heavy eyelids.

He takes it from you when you’ve finished the entire thing, tossing it behind him before he looks back at you with wary eyes. “More?”

You shake your head. “No,” you smile a bit.

Then he points to your forehead, side of his finger grazing the bridge of your nose. Steve’s other hand rubs his chin. “What about those? Need some help?”

“Do you even know how to?” you quip. Steve scoffs, reaching for the box of tissues in your hand and unscrews the alcohol.

“I think I’ve learned. From getting my ass handed to myself three times.” he pours alcohol on the folded tissue, eyebrows raising everytime he speaks. “I think we just got lucky last time. Minus the choking part.”

Steve’s hand raises on the side of your face, hesitant in taking your cheek into his palm once more. When he nods for permission, you allow him; ignoring the way his touch ignites something heavy in the pit of your stomach that causes the butterflies to leave their cocoons and storm your belly.

His touch is benign, delicate, conscious in the way that he knows he’s holding your face unlike earlier. He mutters instant apologies when you wince from the alcohol against your opening wound, the feeling of his thumb stroking the supple skin of your cheek was somehow an amelioration that he hopes would work.

The blood blends with the alcohol infused tissue, staining the soft paper. He wipes a bit harder on the dried morsel of blood surrounding your wound, until a small cut appears once all the blood’s gotten rid of. Steve takes the box of bandaids from his lap, you watching as he clumsily opens it and pulls a yellow bandaid with purple stars around the oval-like bandage.

Your eyebrows raise, bemused. “Cute,”

“Dustin wanted them,” he’s quick to defend. Steve removes the plastic from the bandage, spreading apart until he raises it to your wound and carefully places the pad on top of the cut, thumbs pressing it down until it sticks to your skin. “Or I think Erica did. Dunno. Kids love to take advantage of me.”

“Rich teenager who spends his time with a bunch of kids? Who wouldn't?” you snort. “I’m surprised they haven't asked you to buy them Nintendo.”

“Why? Do you want one?” his brow raises, fingers moving down to press on your nose, a slight throb as he does so.

“Pretty please?” you jut your bottom lip out. “With Ghosts N’ Goblins?”

Steve shakes his head, massaging the bridge of your nose. “Take advantage of me, why don't you?”

You laugh. “You know what this reminds me of?” you murmur. Steve looks at you, hands in a momentarily halt on your nose. “Billy. When we had to carry you to the back of his car and we had nothing but alcohol and bandaids. You know, Mike was actually thinking of stitching the cut,” you reach up to graze the ever faint scar on his jaw, and his face softens when you do so, “right here. But all we had was a fish hook and we couldn’t risk it.”

His chuckle’s short, faint and wilting off into the silence in his car as he looks at you, your hand muzzy on his jaw as your tracing stops, your eyes flitting to his. And Steve’s so close, with his breath fanning your face and the tip of his nose grazing yours; his eyes searching like a sailor on sea, an undulate curve of his thick hair covering his forehead when he dips his head down the slightest. You drop your hand back to your lap and turn your head away, making all his hope break and Steve sinks back to his seat, swallowing thickly. He screws the cap of the alcohol back on.

“So, where were you going?” he turns the key in the ignition, pushing his hair back before they settle on the steering wheel. You hm, an unsure ‘um’ that battles between telling him the truth or not.

“Home,” you lie. “Just, uh, take me home.”

The aether sky disappears behind the cluster of thick, dark clouds; like how paint water would topple over an artwork as it slowly washes over the dull sky of Hawkins, all that optimistic cyan glory replaced by a caliginous silver as its tears slowly fall down to the cracked ground. Your fist on your cheek, the radio quiet, and Steve’s contemplating whether you had told him the truth or not. He heard the slight hesitation in your voice, the avoidance of eye contact and the uncomfortable shift in your seat.

And so as he turns the corner, opposite to where your home was that you surprisingly didn’t notice with your dazed staring, Steve rubs his nose. “Hey, uh. Where’d you crash your car?” your head turns to him, cheek leaving your fist to straighten your back. “Just wanna see if the truck’s gotten it already,”

“I’m sure it’s still there,” You pull nervously at your seatbelt, staring ahead at the windscreen. “But just, um, past Warzone.”

“The one Eddie told us all the illegal shit were?”

“Yeah.”

“That- That’s where you were heading?”

You grimace. “I said past Warzone. Not before or at the Warzone.” your top lip curls in exiguous agitation. “And this is not the way to my fucking house, Steve.”

“Yeah, because we’re not going to your house,” his hand raises to point in front of him, driving past empty houses and rundown buildings that lead outside the town, the rain that forms little puddles beside sidewalks as the windscreen wiper starts moving.

“This is kidnapping!” you gawp silently, incredulous. “Take me home, Steve.”

“No, I wanna know where you’re going that you crashed your car past Warzone,” though loud, Steve’s voice is calm and patient, waiting for your reason. His sudden curiosity is unneeded, you think. Because why should he care where you’ve been? “Tell me so I can…drive you there.”

You sigh, back slumping on his leather seat as you look back at the window. “Illinois.”

The car slows with the way Steve’s foot weakens, eyes taking a double look on you. “Illinois? What- what are you gonna do in Illinois? See Murray?”

“No,” you say. “I was-...I was going to see my new apartment.” you look at him, seeing the way his hands tighten around the wheel. “It’s a couple miles farther from Murray’s, I think.”

It’s like his ribcage shrinks and squeezes his lungs, an ache that spreads throughout his chest as Steve’s mouth parts, head turning between the rode and you. He fixes his composure, the cat killed by his bothering curiosity as he says, “Apartment? You’re gonna move to Illinois?”

You shake your head. “Not forever. Just…indefinitely. Like, like a vacation. Or something.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you repeat. “We’ve nearly gotten killed, like, four times. Do you not think about, I don’t know, taking a vacation to rest? Leaving Hawkins after you got your ass handed to you for god knows how many times?”

Steve lets his shoulders rise into a shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I can’t just leave them, you know. The kids,” his hand motions behind him. “Especially now that Max’s in the hospital and Eddie’s healing. It’s not like Robin’s the most reliable babysitter- don’t tell her I said that,” he turns to look at you. “And, with Jonathan back, the kids are gonna need you, too.”

“They don’t need me,” you squirm a little in your seat. “They have you. And Robin, who can do well with babysitting. And they’re not kids anymore, Steve. They don’t need babysitters. There are no more monsters slipping out of gates, or people randomly dying. I can- take a vacation if I want to.”

“Yeah, indefinitely,” he scoffs. “You’re just gonna leave everything behind?”

“I’m not!” you almost yell. “And besides, I’m always gonna call. Everybody's got phone’s now. So what if I don’t come back? They’re gonna be fine without me, Steve,” you think it’s the truth, with the way you said those words. Because they had each other: Max had Lucas. Eddie had Dustin, Will had Mike, and Steve had Robin. You? You’re just this random crayon drawn onto a piece of paper that disparities its colors. You didn’t have your own contrast, your own someone. Not after what happened with Steve.

“Why,” you continue, licking your lips. “Why do you care, anyway?”

You look at him, see the way everything behind him moves in a fast blur; trees fragmented by the raindrops coating his window. His nose wrinkles into a quick sniff, his eyes trained across the wet road. “You’re leaving—”

“—indefinitely—”

“—yeah and still, I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” his voice softens into a whisper, his cheeks turning pink at his confession, maybe also because you’re staring at him. “I mean, you’re moving to Illinois for god knows how long. What if you decide that you’ll stay there forever? How will the kids reach you when they need your help? What about Robin, or- or Nancy?”

Nancy’s name makes you wince.

His reason veils what he truly wants to say, even though what he said was a genuine concern of his. Steve gives you occasional glances, sees the way your eyes get clouded as you lose yourself in a thought, hears the way the song switches to the new released song Never Tear Us Apart.

You can’t read his mind, but you’ve got his tones and body language memorized like the entire map of hawkins. But maybe you’re wrong, because his tone is new and confounding — misleading in his words. You know he’s using the kids to mask up what he wants to say. And you, with your overthinking mind that has been giving you suffocating trepidations and agonizing maybes and what-ifs, your mind bears on a fact you refuse to believe but makes you scoff out loud in disbelief, anyway.

And despite its dubiety, you say it out loud anyway. “Yeah, Harrington. Go act like you care, why don’t you?”

In that snarky tone that puts a rock on your heart, Steve glowers slightly. “I always care about you, (y/n).”

“Well, you sure did a lot to let me know,” you roll your eyes, sinking into your corner. “Sure. Go flirt with Nancy Wheeler in front of me. Maybe in front of Jonathan, too! That totally shows how much you care, Steve.”

“Jesus Christ,” he runs a hand down his face, the pattering of the rain getting louder the farther you go out of Hawkins. “What’s this got to do with Nancy?”

“Really? You’re gonna act like you didn’t just almost tell Nancy you were still in love with her two weeks after we broke up?” Steve furrows his eyebrows at you. “Do you know how anxious and hurt I was to see you act like that around her? Thinking about how what if Steve was in love with Nancy the entire time he was my boyfriend? What if he just used me to get over her so that’s why he didn’t care that I dumped him? Didn’t even fight or ask why, like- like we were nothing. And now you’re telling me that you care? Did it even occur to you that maybe you’re the reason why I’m moving to Illinois because seeing you just hurts?”

There’s nothing but the turbulent radio and the loud rain hitting the roof of his car that fills the thick silence. Your chest heaves, now unburdened with the weight of your premonition. And his mind registers your words slowly — Because no, it hadn’t occurred to him that he’s the reason you’re moving; it hadn’t occurred to him that you had a sense of doubt tribulating you even as you prepared to kill Vecna back then. ‘Cause he’d been too worried to think about how to make it up to you, all while he tries to rekindle his friendship with Nancy. To the point you’d mistaken it as flirting with his yearning stares and lingering gazes.

“You really…felt that?” his voice is small, like he’d been yelled at by his own mother for his stupidity. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to not look at him, afraid of breaking down when you do.

“Yeah,” you rub your nose with the side of your finger. “I mean, I guess it’s a sensible reason, right? Seeing as I didn’t exactly have the truth to confirm my thoughts; we got together a week after you and Nancy broke up. I don’t think a week’s enough to move on, yet we went on a date. And, I don’t know, I guess maybe I thought you’d only gotten with me because I was there, and we were both healing, and we both kinda needed some anchor. Except I really did like you and, it’s- It’s not like you told me you loved me, anyway.” you laugh sadly. “So what’s the point? Why would I stay here if I didn't have my own anchor anymore? I could just…float.”

It’s not like you told me you loved me, anyway.

There’s a rip on his heart when you wipe a tear away, pushing your hair behind your ears. Steve feels a lump on his throat, getting heavier and threatening as you continue.

“I cried a lot. When I broke up with you. Maybe because I saw the way you didn’t care. You didn’t even ask why. You just…said ‘okay.’ With your hands in your pockets, watching me leave your house. And- and then Vecna happened and I didn’t have time to grieve until- until you told Nancy about this dream of yours that I thought was really fucking stupid. And I said, well Steve Harrington totally is a douchebag because what are you doing telling your ex-girlfriend about your future like you want her to be there?”

A hand leaves the steering wheel as he scratches his head. Steve is an idiot. A man who’s shit at communication, a man who acted like he didn’t care when he broke your heart, a man who shamelessly gave Nancy stares that he used to give you when they were together. A man who’s nothing short of obliviousness to what you feel, who thinks that you were okay this entire time when really, you’d just been digging yourself a hole to hide yourself into. A hole that’s three hours away.

And despite his naivety, he’s appalled that he ever made you feel like he only liked you because you were there. Someone who’d been near and available to him. Steve wonders what else could you have felt that hurt you, that made you move to Illinois after what he did.

Steve slows down much to your dismay, just a few minutes after he passed the Hawkins sign. He parks beside the empty road, the ones passing by filled with boxes and eager families that don't seem to care about the both of you as he pulls on his gear and faces you with a hand to the back of your headrest.

And he sees you: the way you’re silently hurting while relishing in the relief of a confession. When you take a quiet inhale when you realize he’s leaned closer, your eyes widening the slightest because this was the third time he’d unabashedly leaned closer to you.

“Well, I am an idiot,” he finally spoke. “Because I never told you that I loved you,”

Your heart pounds, loud and hard, almost painful with it. contact against your chest. And you eye him suspiciously, staring deep into those umber eyes of his, searching for any kind of fathomless reason for him to use this opportunity for a sadistic joke just to hurt you. But alas, you knew Steve. He was never the type of man to hurt a woman’s feelings over an insensitive joke, let alone hurt a woman with cruel words other than ignorance (speaking from experience).

But still, you’re left befuddled. Why now, out of all the opportunities, has he decided to tell you he loves you? Is he using this to make up for all the pain he’s caused you? Or because he thinks you at least deserve to know that he does love you, just not in love, and now he’s got the opportunity to say it to you.

And why, out of all times, do you feel bile rise up to your throat?

“Steve…”

“Babe,” he reaches over. But you squirm away from his touch that makes his face fall, eyebrows raised into a small melancholy hill of pain when you flinch by the faintest touch of his hand. “(y/n), come on,”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,”

Steve pales. “Fuck,” he looks behind him, hand rummaging over the random shit on the floor before he looks back at you in panic. “I don’t have bags—”

“Fucking hell,” you unlatch the door, hurling it aside until your feet hit the wet asphalt and rain starts to pour on you. Steve stares at you in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” he yells, but he follows right after you slam the door shut, tracing your footsteps as you walk away from his car and hunch over the side. “It’s raining! Just, puke in the trunk or something!”

You shake your head, gasping as you place your hands on your knees, heaving. Steve walks over to you, raindrops falling on the tips of his eyelashes that make him blink rapidly. “Stay there, Harrington. Come any closer and I’m hurling at your shoes,”

His hands raise, scrutinizing you out of worry. You compose yourself, straightening your back and running your hand through your hair that’s been dampened by the heavy rainfall. And Steve — Steve looks so desperate, even more now that the rain has fallen upon him and makes him look like a sad puppy. With his eyes twinkling and his hair fallen into a thick mop that he slicks back, lips parted to breathe.

“You’re not sick, aren't you?” he says softly in the thunderous impact of rains on road.

You shake your head, finding the courage to walk over to him and pull on the shirt that sticks to your chest. The rain on your wound hurts, but it doesn't matter anymore.

“Let me rephrase my words then,” Steve readjusts himself, finally letting his whole body turn to face you. “I love you, and I’ve been in love with you since you told me that I deserved being called bullshit by Nancy. I love you because you’re the second person to give me that bump in the head right after she did and that made me realize that you were it for me. I love you because you put me right on track. You actually told me that I was an asshole and if you hadn't, maybe I’d still be that asshole till this day,

“The thing about my future? The six, stupid little nuggets that I told Nancy?” He takes your chin into his hand, rubbing the skin below your lips. “I always saw you in there. It was never her. I thought it was her until you hit me in my goddamn head. It’s always been you, (y/n),” Steve murmurs. “All it took was three bumps to the head for me to realize all that. And — and I’m sorry if I acted like I didn't care when you dumped me. But I’ve always cared.”

“Then why didn't you?” your bottom lip wobbles. “Why didn't you care when I broke up with you?”

“I was pretending,” Steve reaches over to push the hair sticking from your face, rubbing your eyelids with his wet thumbs so you’d see clearer. “I just- I was an idiot, okay? When you broke up with me, I thought it was for the best because both of us were just processing things. I had work and you had to go back to school and we’d drifted apart after Starcourt. I wasn't there for you. And you deserve someone who’s going to be by your side everyday. Not someone who… can barely finish a fight they started.”

Steve Harrington, a man whose language was dipshit and the surnames of his kids, astounds you with his lengthy confession. Steve Harrington, who thinks cheesy rom coms are full of unrealistic scenarios and shitty plot lines, tells you he’s in love with you with the rain pouring down on your trembling bodies, like a scene from a movie he hates. Steve Harrington, the man you swore to forget and to never look back to when you leave this town, has his face in your hands and his lips pulled to yours.

His mouth’s hot, familiar and welcoming like it always was. Like a missing puzzle piece found beneath the couch, his lips locking with yours in a kiss so tender and balmy it puts the cold rain to shame as it warms you. Steve puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him, drowning out the sounds of passing cars that honk at the both of you and the thunder that claps in the grey sky.

You pry your lips apart, wet with the rain and the slick of his pink mouth. And you push the thick strand of hair from his face, Steve slowly opening his eyes to stare deeply into yours.

“You don't have to say it back,” he mutters. “Not now. Only when you want to.”

“I can't believe I kissed you,”

He smiles a little. “Me neither.”

“That was kind of stupid,”

“... I liked it.” He takes your hands off his face, running his thumbs along the little scars scattered all over. “Let me make it up to you, please?”

He kisses you again. And again. And again; making up for all those sleepless nights he hadn't kissed you and curled to his side instead. Making up for all those times he made you feel like he didn't care; making up for all those times he wasn't there when you wanted him to. A kiss, although almost futile to rid of the pain he’s caused you, brings you to cloud nine and makes you putty in his large hands.

Steve walks backwards, taking you with him until he blindly hits the backdoor of his car, a hand leaving you to grasp its handle.

“Steve—”

“Let me—” his eyebrows furrow, words muffled with the touch of your puffy lips, “—make it up to you. Come on, babe.”

You nod against him, your own hand finding his to pull on the door handle. Steve dips his body and falls onto the leather seat, taking you with him that you land on top, your chest smushing against his, your clothings dripping to the carpet and onto the leather of his car.

“We’re gonna get your seats wet—”

“I don't care,” he sits up, making you straddle his lap as he reaches behind you to close the door. “Can just wipe it off after.”

“But what about our clothes?”

Despite this, you pull on his shirt. Steve discards it swiftly, a rip faintly heard before dropping it onto the floor with a wet thump. “You’re really concerned about that right now?”

Scars from the bites. Brazen and threatening, bumpy when your fingers traced its uneven and cruel mark left on his skin. At nights, Steve would stare at them. Think of how hideous they were, thought about how they'd ruin him forever. But with your admiring, soft touch, he feels as if its a reminder that he'd survived because of you. Because of your persistence despite the pain he's caused you; you look at it as if it's that perfect flaw in every painting, uncanny, grotesque, but beautiful.

You place your hand on his chest, feeling the hair damp against your palm as you break away from him. Steve grasps your waist, bunches the wet material of your shirt in his hand as he looks at you with the dusk of arousal blooming his pupils. Eyes wide in anticipation and lips puffy for more, he slides his hands beneath your shirt to warm the coldness of your flesh.

“You sure about this?” he finally whispers. You push his hair behind his ear, giving him a chaste peck.

“We’re here now, aren't we?” you tell him. Steve smiles, bright like the lightning that hits the road. He kisses you again, his hands grasping at your shirt from beneath until he rips it apart. The tear makes you gasp, agape as you watch him throw it aside. “I bought that from The Gap, you know? It was kind of expensive.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he starts kissing your neck, nipping and sucking the rain off your skin. And when he sucks harder, there’s a light prick that stings your neck, only to be soothed by his warm tongue that he lathers over, his teeth grazing your flesh but never biting.

Steve’s hand comes up to toy with the clasp of your bra, hands positioned to push but he never does. Not when you’re holding his face against your neck like he’s feeding off you, stuffing your nose in his hair and inhaling his rich cologne drowned out with the smell of rain.

“Jus’ take it off,” you kiss his temple.

“Alright,”

He does, untroubled as he easily unclasps its tiny hooks and lets it fall to your sides. Steve’s hand cups around your shoulders, hooking his fingers on the lace strap and pulls it down your arms as his lips stay planted on your neck, watching as they fall off flawlessly and onto your lap.

Leaving one last kiss to your neck, he moves down to wrap his lips around the skin of your bare breasts, throwing your bra to the passenger seat. You gasp, head throwing back with your hands grasping at his hair.

“Fuck, Steve,” you whimper, moving your hips on his thick crotch with the guidance of his hand, the other massaging a tit into his mouth as he suckles at your buds, looking up at you adoringly.

“Baby I want you to,” he kisses you again, slowly laying down but his hands keep you in place. Steve looks up at you with heavy eyelids, grasping at your tits as you grind down onto him. “Want you to sit on my face.”

Your grinding slows, hands palming at his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah— fuck, honey. Just want you to. Please,” Steve pulls on the waistband of your jeans, unbuttoning them. “C’mon baby.”

“Okay,” you raise your hips, a foot coming down to the carpet to remove your jeans, head bumping slightly onto the roof of his car. Your back hunches awkwardly, embarrassed that Steve’s seeing you struggling but he doesn't care, not when his tongue darts out between his lips in anticipation as you bring your panties with your jeans.

Steve pulls you immediately to him, until your knees are on either side of his head and his hands hard and heavy on your thighs to keep you levitating above him. He’s kissing stars on your thighs, knows with the way your hips jut impatiently that you want more other than sorry, coaxing kisses. With your hand on the backseat and one on his hair, he leans up to take a whiff of your leaking arousal, groaning when he smells the sweet honey.

“Christ, (y/n),” he kneads your ass. “Don't be shy. Just sit.”

And you do, carefully lowering yourself onto his mouth opens and his tongue darts out to lap at your dripping hole. You moan loudly, looking down to see him dig his nose on your clit and his hair all disheveled from your pulling. “Oh, Steve,”

He hums against you, dragging his tongue on your folds until his lips wrap around your clit. You grind on his face, small pants and whimpers leaving your mouth when he groans. “You taste amazing. Like fucking— fucking amazing. Sweet little pussy stayed the same.”

A finger prods on your wet entrance, tracing your small hole until it slips in, incessant until his pointer’s buried knuckle deep. And when he pulls out with a slick gush, he puts in two without warning, stretching your hole open with two of his thick limbs, scissoring them as he laps up at your swollen clit.

“That’s it,” he growls, sucking harder on your bud with a little head shake as his fingers begin scissoring at a pace so tantalizingly slow it drives you insane. “Ride my face, baby. Use me.”

He finds himself falling a bit more harder when he looks up to see your face scrunched in all your heavenly glory as you lose yourself in that rainstorm of rapture with your eyebrows joint and your jaw slacked to emit its euphonious moaning. Finds himself submitting more than he expected as he digs himself deeper into you, your own taste marking him more than he’d marked you when your slick coats half of his face.

Your hand finds itself using his stomach as leverage, leaning back to give Steve a better perspective. And the other remains on his hair, tugging deeper when he removes his fingers and continues using his tongue instead, taking your hand off his hair to lace it with yours.

“Shit,” you puff, hand tightening around his. Steve opens his eyes, the tip of his nose glistening as he flicks his tongue up and down between your folds. He uses his other hand to spread your petals with his fingers shaped into a v, prodding his tongue in your tight hole until it’s fully fucking you. “Ngh—ah, oh god, your tongue feels so good,”

A taste of forbidden fruit, has him drunk and fucking his tongue deeper to venture more of your sweet walls. You squeeze around his thick muscle, mewling louder that you worry you’re heard amongst the continuous roaring thunder. Steve groans against you, his own stomach clenching beneath your hand, tongue exploring everything that’s wet, flicking it against every spongy spot. He’d suck at your swollen nub, lap at your hole like some faucet, knead your ass to urge you harder on his tongue.

“I’m close,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I wanna cum, Stevie.”

“Then cum,” he untucks his tongue from inside you, licking up from your hole to your clit. “Cum for me, baby. Come on.”

And when the thick substance of your sweet cum smears his tongue, he swallows and he swallows like it's the last water in this world. And he’s greedy for more, pushing his tongue in until he’s milked you and dried the cum off your walls, lapping up at the juices of your sticky cunt until you pull yourself away from him.

You hover on his lap as Steve slowly sits up, chasing your lips as if your pussy wasn't enough; but you let him kiss you, nonetheless. The taste of him and your cum evading your mouth as you sit on his lap, soft wet clicking made by your lips every time your mouths closed on one another. Your hands find the button of his tight jeans, toying with it.

“I want you,” he whispers. “Please, baby. You can have me now. Make up for all those times I haven't been there.”

Steve lifts himself to untuck his jeans, stopping only below his knees so you’d rest your cunt right on his thick, hard cock that slaps against his stomach. You run your palm through your wet heat, using it to jerk him off that makes his forehead fall against yours from its sensitivity.

“I have you now, right?” you position his tip at your entrance.

“You’ll have me always,” and when he looks at you devotedly, like the moment wasn’t so unsanctified, you find yourself kissing him again. Like you’d found a place with someone to escape like a flower in the dark, blooming in the twilight just by your palliating touch. That hesitant love you’d felt blossoming from the broken ground and grows in the uncut grass, just enough for him to pick up and cherish.

You sink down to him, hole gaping for him to slip inside your tight walls. Steve moans against your lips, hands tight above your ass as you go down on him.

“Slow down, hon,” you shake your head. You hate being told what to do, deciding to just drop down onto him until your ass slaps against his heavy balls full of cum. “Jesus Christ—”

“So big, Steve,” you slur, head falling to his shoulder. “Cock feels so good…”

“Yeah, baby?” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “This cock’s made just for you. Use it babe, come on.”

And you do, slowly grinding on to him, his thick cock stretching you more, his hands guiding you and urging you to a pace you wish to move on.

You don't know how long you’d been riding him. Alternating between teasing grinds and greedy bounces that has your walls squeezing around him. And god, Steve finds himself submitting more to you, despite the amount of marks he’d left on your neck and chest that muffles the loud moans threatening to leave his throat.

Steve wraps his mouth around your nipple, his cock disappearing from your cunt, the wet squelching turning him more to the edge whenever you’d slam down onto his balls. You moan in his ear, soft and small, almost innocent. But it’s not innocent at all — not with him balls deep, or his mouth on your tit, or the wet sounds created. Steve looks at the reflection from the window, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he urges you faster.

Everything felt familiar. Everything felt the same; everything felt like he never stopped loving you. Not with those gentle, lascivious touches. Not with the way he kisses you. You find yourself back in his arms just a year ago, being comforted in this heaven of his that keeps you from what hurts you, right before he'd pushed you off the clouds (and before he'd caught you himself).

“I missed this,” he huffs. “A lot. Touched myself to the thought of this. Then I’d feel so guilty. But now I don't have to,” you push on his shoulder, bumping your nose with his. “I missed you. And this tight little pussy. And your sweet, dirty sounds — ah. Fuck. Missed the way your cunt would just squeeze around me. Always using my cock hm?”

“Shut up,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouth parting. “I’m close again, Steve. God, you’re such an asshole,”

He chuckles. “What did I do?”

“You and your— your words. Fuck!” you squeal, clutching hard on his shoulders. “Are you close?”

“I’ve been close since you sat on my face. Think I even came in my pants while I was doing it,” he chuckles. “God, I’m gonna cum.”

You both do. Without warning but simultaneous. When both your seeds would mix when you kept on pushing his cum deep into you with every slow bounce you’d make. Steve exhales into your sweaty skin, both your hairs dried but slick with sweat.

When he looks at you again, like a star he’s found in the polluted sky of Hawkins, like a miracle fallen onto the palm of his hand, your heart flutters and builds itself again right in his touch. And it’s filthy, the way your cums would slip down to his thighs and onto the cushions of his car, but his touch’s clean and innocent in its intentions. A promise of never letting go; a promise of always being there to love you and being enough.

—

“I’m still going,”

The storm's gone. Left with nothing but the light rain that taps gently on his windows. The smell of Steve comforts you, despite the sticky smell of sex and sweat stings your nose from the leather you lay on.

He wraps the blanket he found beneath the seats around the both of you, your head on his chest and your hands linked together. Your squirming doesn't bother his concerns, but your sudden declaration does and Steve lifts his head to look at you.

Your eyebrows raise, legs tangled with his and your chin on the bush on his chest. “I’ve got a lovely apartment. A job that I found. I’m gonna work at the record store,” you trace the slope of his nose, sculpted by the hands of gods who’d given him all this sweet handsomeness. “And… It's got a lovely view, too. I need this, Steve.”

His hand runs through your hair, twirling your drying strands in his fingers. “I won't stop you. But I don't want to watch you leave again,”

“Then come with me,” you whisper. “It has a huge bedroom. And a kitchen, Steve. A pretty kitchen and a huge living room. A TV for when the kids would come and visit.” he chuckles at your pout. “Only when you want to.”

Unhesitating and prepared, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he kisses you. “I’d follow you anywhere. Robin has Vickie now, anyway. I can— I can work at a coffee shop. Wear a cute little apron and drink coffee.” he smiles softly, deep lines decorating his tan skin. "And I'll be there when you get home. Smother you with love."

“Wouldn't be opposed to that," you smile at him.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated &lt;3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #joe keery #x reader

[xetswan]

Youngest Shadow- Sick Days

One | two | three | four | five | six |

Since it’s getting warmer students around me are wearing shorter clothing even though it’s barely sixty degrees.

And collectively we all sit outside for lunch today, but of course it’s the one day I got sick. Plus on our big game day and due to my fever that keeps growing I’m going to have to leave school early and miss out on maybe being in the newspaper.

“He’s not here.” Jessica says, startling me as everything makes me jumpy from how shitty I feel. “Whenever the weather is nice the Cullens disappear.”

“They just ditch?” Bella asks, not understanding.

“No, Dr, and Mrs Cullen yank em out for hiking and camping and stuff. I tried the idea out on my parents, no even close.” Jessica sighs. Bella takes it all in and I cough earning a look from Jessica who was sitting on the ground. I just put my head down.

“I’m going to the prom with Eric! I just asked him, I took control!” Angela jumps on the table in between Bella and I, hugging my sister as I lift my head back up to smile. “That’s amazing,” my voice is hoarse and I cough as it strains my throat.

“Oh, [Name] are you okay?”

“She’s running a fever and her throat is bothering her.” Bella explains for me that and I’m internally grateful for it. “I’m sorry.” Angela says, rubbing my back then talking to Bella again.

She ends up keeping a hand on my back which feels nice. I repeatedly keep shivering from occasional breezes.

“Are you sure you have to go out of town?” Angela asks Bella, “it’s a family thing, [Name] is staying though.” I put my thumbs up to confirm that.

“Oh my god, we need to hit the stores in Port Angeles before the dresses get cleaned out.” Jessica gasps,

“Port Angeles?” Bella asks, “can I go with you guys?”

My face scrunches even though they can’t see it, Bella? Dress shopping? If only I wasn’t sick I would love to see this.

“Thank god, we need your opinion.” Angela says.

I end up leaving right after lunch, sneaking past school staff to get to my motorcycle I luckily got back from Jacob yesterday. I tried calling my dad but it just rang through, I’m guessing something is going on to where he can’t answer.

I take my helmet out of Bella’s truck bed and roughly tug it on my head. I lazily try to put my leg over the bike, almost falling so I hold on to the truck. Giving myself a minute as I feel dizzy. A horn honks, scaring me to the point where I hear my heart beat thump in my chest.

“[Name]! What are you doing?”

Alice? Wasn’t she supposed to be hiking or some shit? I go to talk but my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I take a deep breath. “I don’t feel good, I’m trying to get home.” I try to say as loud as I can, even then doesn’t feel loud enough.

“Want me to take you home?” She goes to reach over and I shake my head. “I gotta get my bike home somehow.” I take a few steps closer to her car. “I’ll have Jasper bring it over.” She smiles, I tilt my head, squinting as I looked at her.

Get into her car? Or drive home myself?

“Where do I put my keys?” I jingle them too close to my face. “Hide them on Bella’s truck tire, closest to the bike.” She instructs me and I drag my feet back over to my bike, doing as told. I then take my helmet off, putting it on the bike for Jasper.

I climb into her car as if it were a hill. Accidentally slamming the door behind me. “Sorry, thank you.”

My body faces her, I watch as she drives, wearing sunglasses. She glances at me and sadly smiles. “You should’ve stayed home.”

“I know.” I mumble,

After moments pass it felt like milliseconds and we’re already at my house. “Alright, we should get you inside and you need to lay down.” She unbuckles herself, going around the car and opening my door as I am pretty slow with my movements. “My body is aching.” I try to laugh at myself but I just end up in a coughing fit.

She puts a hand on my waist and she walks me to the door, making me feel more fragile than I actually am. “There’s a um house key under the uh mat.” I tell her and she bends down to grab it.

Opening the door I trip inside. We go over to the living room and i plop down, accidentally bringing her with me. I feel how cold she really is and I shiver from the touch. She giggles and stands back up.

“Let me call Jasper and I’ll find you something small to eat and medicine.” She boops my nose, leaving me to be alone as she heads towards the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for her to come back with crackers and a few pills laid next to me on the arm of the couch. “Jasper should be here soon. Do you want to watch something?” Alice sits next to me and I shrug. “I’ll get you sick. You should go enjoy time with your family.” I take a cracker from its wrapping and bite it. She smiles, shaking her head. “It’s quite alright, it’s nothing I haven’t done already. I’ll stay until your dad or sister gets back.” She informs me and if I wasn’t so sick I would be bombarding with questions.

I hear an engine rev outside and I jump unnoticeably from the noise. Alice stands up and I look down at lol the crumbs I have on my shirt.

The front door opens and I see Jasper putting my helmet and keys down. “Here you should take the medicine.” Alice tells me.

“How do I know you’re not drugging me?” I rebuttals and she scoffs with a smirk laid upon her lips. “What would I gain from that?” She teases, handing me a water bottle. “I don’t know, you could rob me.” I hum, looking at her through half lidded eyes.

“Sweetheart, I could’ve already did that by now.”

I shrug, stretching my arms and sitting up. “What’s the medicine?” I simply ask. “Ibuprofen. That’s it. I couldn’t find cold medicine or anything.” She tells me, I nod, expecting that from Charlie.

“Why are you guys helping me?” I look between the both of them.

“We want to help a friend.” Alice grins, i squint my eyes at her response.

“Seriously, we will leave if that’s what you wish.” Jasper finally speaks up. My eyes follow to him. “What if that is what I wish?” I say in a snarky tone.

“Then we will listen. We don’t want to over stay our welcome.” He winks and I’m caught off guard.

“I just want to sleep. I have too many questions that I don’t feel like will be answered.” I go to stand up and they try to help but I smack their hands away. “I got it. I barely know you two I don’t get this.” I aggressively motion between the three of us.

“What do you mean, [Name]?” Alice asks, both of them wear a worried expression. “Why can’t you guys go to the Quiluete beach? Or or.. why when it’s sunny your parents just decide to take you out of school?” My throat starts hurting worse from before, the strain from me yelling doesn’t help. I almost go into another coughing fit but luckily the feeling goes away but I am definitely feeling a shortness of breath.

“[Name], you should take a nap and when you wake up, if you feel better we will answer everything you want to know.” Alice assures me.

I huff, wanting to scream from how confused I feel.

“I want you both to… to leave!” I get extremely dizzy just like before, my knees giving out, Jasper immediately helps me. Grabbing onto my arms as I hold onto his. “You need to go to sleep.” He whispers, “your skin, it’s so cold.” I tell him, he presses his lips together, glancing at Alice.

He sets me back down on the couch and I lay down. “I don’t want to wake up to you guys here.” I mutter, loud enough for them to hear though.

My eyes open to darkness, and blankets over me. I feel around and I’m in my bed. I hear whispers next to me, weight on my bed beside me. It feels like my fever has also just disappeared.

“You’re up.” A voice says softly. I jerk up in response. “Why are you two still here!?” I sternly question them, getting up to my knees on the bed, backing away from both of them.

“You’re still upset?” Alice frowns and I tilt my head. “Duh, I’m still upset! I told you both two leave, you said if I told you to leave you would. Um so seems like the problem can easily be solved.” I remind them.

“We did leave, we came back when we realized nobody would make sure you were going to be okay for a while, darling.” Jasper tells me and I sit there for a moment. I shake my head. “Don’t give me a lame ass excuse. Just explain everything I want to know then leave.” I straight up tell them, tired of this game I feel like I’m in.

“I feel like you know everything already.” Alice points out. I take a deep breath.

“Why won’t you just say it?”

“To protect you.” Jasper steps closer and this time I don’t flinch away. “Maybe I don’t need nor want your protection.” I cross my arms.

“Why me? None of this makes sense.” I tiredly laugh, I feel like I’m going insane.

“You’re our person, [Name]. You’re like a metal and we’re your personal magnets. A missing piece you never knew you needed. You’re just stubborn.” Jasper sits down on the bed, pulling Alice with him. Both take my hands and for some reason they aren’t cold anymore…

And then I really wake up from what felt like a nightmare. “[Name]! You home!?” Bella calls and I look around, confused about what I just experienced. Pinching myself underneath my blanket. It’s real. And with this being real. They really did bring me to my bedroom.

“What’s going on?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “Dad wanted me to check in on you. I don’t know if you heard.” She comes up to my bed, sitting down next to me. “What happened?”

“One of his buddy’s, Waylon passed away. Attacked by an animal.” She tells me and my eyes widen. Not expecting that of all things.

She hands me a pepper spray. “Dad also wanted me to give you that.”

I furrow my eyebrows in response and she chuckles dryly. “He gave me one too, twins.” She shows me hers and I smile.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s okay as anyone could be in his position.” She shrugs and I nod, that makes sense. “Did you happen to pass by Alice or Jasper at all… today?”

Her body tensed from the question.

“Not.. Alice or Jasper. Why?” She adjusts herself better to face me.

“They took me home earlier, gave me medicine.” I explain and Bella shoots me a weird look.

“They were here?” I nod

“How was dress shopping?” I change the subject not wanting to think about the dream I had.

“Eh, I bumped into Edward.” And I smirk.

“Stop it.” She rolls her eyes.

Then it was silence between us. And as she goes to stand up I grab her wrist. “Wait, i um have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel something.. off about the Cullens?” I bite the inside of my mouth, waiting for her answer.

“You feel it too?” She whispers,

“You heard about the Quiluete story?” I question.

“Jacob told me the other day.” She nods.

“Okay, I’m not the only one then.” I sigh, taking her hand. “I had a weird dream. I just I need to find out what all of this means.” I exclaim.

“That’s how I feel. I bought a um book. From the library down in Port Angeles.” She reaches down and I didn’t even know but she placed a book bag down there before getting on my bed.

She comes back up with a heavy old looking book.

“Sleepover?”

“I’m still sick, Bells.”

“I don’t care, scoot.” I do as told and we lean against the wall, I grab my laptop bed we use that light as a resource to look through the book.

Pages of masked creatures, menacing looking.

We then turn to the another page, this time it was a white mask with black eyes and a row of sharp teeth. “The cold one.” It read.

I quickly sign in to my laptop, searching that up, immediately getting beer pop ups on my screen. I irritatedly close them. “Look.” Bella points on the screen, it was a link to “The Cold One: Apotamkin.” I click on it.

Pictures begin to load of a seductive Apotamkin with his ice blue skin, devouring victims in tapestries, engravings. The creatures that are horrific portrayed to be beautiful.

Demons attacking villages; perfectly sculpted predators luring innocent women.

“All of this is gruesome murder and sexual innuendos.” I whisper.

Words at the bottom say:

Speed, strength, cold skinned, immortal… blood drinker…

I close my eyes for a brief second. Thinking about how Edward moved fast when Bella was in the accident, how he stopped a whole van. I never really questioned it before but now… I don’t know. How Alice knew where my house was… I never told her. How they all look young and are cold to the touch.

Another picture shows and it’s a man biting a white neck.

“It’s not possible.” Bella shared a look a with me, both of us struggling to make sense of it all.

Chapter five!!!

Also I’m going to start doing short Imagines! So if you want to request anything feel free!

#alice cullen #bella swan #alice cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #jacob black #esme cullen #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader #twilight #edward cullen #jasper cullen #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper #carlisle x esme #rosalie twilight #rosalie hale #emmett x reader #emmett cullen #seth clearwater

[luveline]

Omg shy reader being really embarrassed about asking Eddie to go with her to get tattoos. Like, she can hardly get the question outta her mouth cause he's looking at her with his big brown eyes

fire request tysm <3 shy!fem!reader | 1.1k words

You’d made the appointment months ago and figured by now you would’ve told him. You’re getting a tattoo tomorrow and you want — need — Eddie to go with you. You know, for moral support. As in, you don’t think you can do it without his hand to squeeze.

You’re embarrassed about it for lots of reasons. You should’ve told him weeks ago and every hour that passes without telling him furthers the feeling. You’ve never even told him you wanted a tattoo.

You ditch your bike at the stoop of his home and run up the steps on toes, letting yourself in without knocking. Eddie or his uncle are both nowhere to be seen, so you walk through the living area and down to his room, knocking the ajar door tentatively.

You flinch as the door swings open, Eddie’s hand on the handle, his eyes bright, happy to see you. He must’ve just got out of the shower as his torso is still shirtless and damp with runoff from his wet hair.

You want to smooth the hair out of his eyes. You don’t, having found yourself frozen to the ground by his smug smile.

“What?” you ask, confused, because there’s no way you could’ve done something silly already. You’ve been here for five seconds.

“You look really fucking pretty,” he says, voice rough.

You smile, momentarily uninhabited by any self-doubt. His endless and earnest praise does that to you.

“You’re naked,” you say, instead of thanks, instead of you’re prettier.

“I’ve got boxers on.” And he does, checkered and blue. You realise in horror that you’ve just oggled his crotch and swing your gaze up, but the damage is done.

“You creep,” he says fondly.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

He shakes his head like he always does after one of your apologies, his nose scrunched up and his eyes squished by a smile. He takes the towel from around his neck and lets his head fall forward to scrub at his wet hair.

“What’s up?” he asks from upside down.

“Nothing. Did you just get up?” you ask.

“Half hour ago. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Did you eat?”

You sigh in exasperation and take the towel from his hands. Eddie straightens up to glare at you but swiftly stops when you bring the towel to his face and scrub at his hairline gently. “Yeah, I did. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do worry about you. Often.” Your thumb smooths over his cheek. “You’ll tell me if you’re hungry?”

You meet his eyes and he takes your wrist into his hand, waiting.

“Of course I will,” you say. Then, with a hesitant smile, “I actually have something to ask you.”

His fingers massage your arm restlessly and he nods. “Hit me with it.”

He looks his age. The entire time you’ve known Eddie you’ve always thought he looked older than he is because of his style, his hair. Just something about him that gives off an air of coolness, despite his absurd (and dirty) sense of humour and his admittedly dorky hobbies. But here looking at you the way he is, any intimidation you might feel about him melts away. He’s pretty and smiling and waiting patiently for you to talk like there’s nowhere he’d rather be, and suddenly you can’t get the words out.

You drop your eyes to the ink on his chest and part your lips to talk, your inhale ragged.

His own breathing changes in response. He sighs quietly. “Are you worried about asking me?” he asks.

“No,” you work out weakly.

His eyebrows jump up for a split-second.

You drop the towel around his shoulders and take a half step away from him so you’re not breathing on his face. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, only shifts his fingers to hold you as comfortably as possible, which is heart-turning.

“Come on, sweet thing.”

“Will you-“ His eyes are huge.

You cover your forehead with your hand, your pinky finger hiding his face from view.

Unending patience. His thumb sweeps broadly over the underside of your forearm. He gives you a little squeeze, as if to say, go on.

“I have… I made an appointment. Tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

“Like a doctor's appointment? Is everything okay?”

He pries your hand off of your forehead, eyes impossibly wider, softened by concern.

“No, not the doctors.” You pause, your eyes jumping between his, you can’t choose which one’s prettier, and it’s so hot in here you’re melting, and he’s getting frustrated with you — there, a crease between his eyebrows. He shakes your wrist mildly. He’s not frustrated at all, only worried.

“What for?” he asks.

“A tattoo,” you confess.

His concern turns to excitement quicker than you can blink.

“Fuck, really? What are you getting? Why didn’t you tell me? Where is it? I’ll drive you, babe, I don’t think you can bike home after.” His hands work up your arms, appraising even when the man himself is distracted by questions. His fingertips tap your throat, his palms over your collar. He moves one down to your chest. “Your heart is beating so fast. Are you okay?”

“You have really nice eyes,” you tell him quietly.

He gets a familiar look in said eyes, a spark that excites you and worries you simultaneously.

He’s laughing as he presses a kiss to your lips, his hands careful but firm as they wrap around you, holding you steady. Your face flushes with heat and you gasp fast and high like a hiccup.

“I have a huge crush on you,” he says, punctuating his admission with a smattering of quick, sweet nips along your bottom lip that wipe you out completely. How quickly he can turn you from a semi-functioning person to putty in his hands.

“You’re my boyfriend,” you manage to say, blinking.

He smirks. “I know.”

Eddie encourages your head ever so slightly to one side to kiss a line from the corner of your mouth to your ear, his parted lips leaving warm crescents over your skin. He rubs the tip of his nose against the skin before your ear and then stills. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the tattoo,” he murmurs, “We’re gonna talk all about it. But first…”

You waited weeks to tell him. What’s another hour?

#eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #x reader #stranger things x reader

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Mechanic!Draken x Cheater!Reader

♡ NSFW, Fem Reader, Reader has a bf but he's stupid, Draken owns Shinichiro's old bike shop and has also started working on cars, cheating obviously, pet names, praise + slight degradation towards the end, mention of breeding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!) & creampie ♡

note: I wrote this at 1 am alongside the breeding headcanons I posted because I couldn't sleep plus I'm on my period and I'm feral for fictional men rn

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"Be back soon babe! Going to the mechanic to get the car checked out." Is what you said to your boyfriend before you left out. Not like he cared though, he didn't even bother to look up from his phone to say goodbye. He wouldn't know what was going on behind his back even if he wanted to. It's the little things that really give away what you're up to. The way you dress a little nicer, the bright smile painted on your face, the pep in your step on the way out the door. That's just the things he could see, but doesn't notice. He has no clue about the things that go on behind closed doors. The subtle glances, the touchiness, the suggestive conversations. Who would've guessed that you'd be cheating on him with the mechanic he goes to?

It started around a month ago, that was when you first went with your boyfriend to a small motorcycle shop that just so happened to work on cars too. That was also when you met him. Ryuguji Ken, better known as Draken. He was tall, muscular, handsome, charismatic, and a very skilled mechanic. At first you were slightly intimidated by his stature, but you could tell he was kind hearted. Obviously not kind hearted enough to not fuck his customer's girlfriend though.

The table in the backroom of the shop rocked back and forth as Draken thrusted into your soaked pussy. Hands holding onto your shoulders and strings of curses and praises falling from his lips.

"You feel so good princess, gripping me so fucking tight~"

This was a weekly occurrence. You'd leave your apartment or job and head straight to the bike shop. You'd enter and head right to the backroom, that's where he always is, waiting just for you. He'd bend you over a table, put you up against the wall, or sit on a chair and have you ride him til you creamed all over him.

He liked to take note of everything that was happening in the moment. The little whimpers you produced when he hit a certain spot, the way your nails clawed at the edge of the table, the lewd noises your pussy made when he slammed his dick into you. But the slight bulge he felt when he put one of his hands on your tummy was the tipping point for him, he wanted, no actually he needed to fill your tight cunt with his cum.

"I'm so close baby, is it okay if I fill you up pretty girl?"

All you could do was whine in agreement, not able to form a single word as his thick cock rearranged your guts. He moved his hands to your waist, roughly squeezing your sides as he picked up his pace, ramming into you as deeply as possible. Your incoherent whimpers turned into loud moans of his name as he slid one of his hands between your legs to play with your clit. He knew you were close, he could feel your legs shaking and your pussy clenching around him.

"I fuck you so much better than he does, don't I? If you were mine, I'd be breeding your pretty little pussy everyday. You'd like that wouldn't you, you filthy little cheater?"

You tried to answer him, but your sentences came out all jumbled up. Draken could make out one word in particular though: please. And who was he to deny you the right to be filled to the brim? He continued to fuck you, even after you had already came. His cock overstimulating your messy pussy as he came inside you, leaving you warm and satisfied. As he pulled out he leaned down to kiss you on your shoulder blade.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up princess."

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Tagging @arlerts-angel and @i-literally-cant-with-this

#tokyo revengers #ken ryuguji #tokyo revengers smut #draken #draken x reader #draken smut #feral for fictional men #need a man twice my size to split me in half fr #cw: breeding #the way I'd ride this man #hitting gymnastics moves on it fr

[the-kr8tor]

Loose Thread

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (R is mentioned smaller than Hobie though), food mentions, sexual innuendos, FLUFF.

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You hold onto Hobie's waist like your life depended on it, the wind whips at your face, your cardigan not helping with the cold breeze. Your arms perfectly mold around him, like you're made for each other.

You shut your eyes when Hobie accelerates his bike, the harsh wind kisses your cheeks, making you hide your face behind Hobie's back. Feeling the leather against your skin, you get a whiff of Hobie, he smells like leather and citrus, the familiarity of it relaxes you, your hold on him eases a bit.

Hobie feels your hold on him waning, he slows down before tapping on your thigh, bringing you back on earth. "Don't tell me you're falling asleep" He yells, staring at you through his side mirror. Your face pops out, peeking behind his back.

"No, I'm not" you wrap your arms around him tighter, intertwining your fingers with each other. Making yourself his personal seatbelt.

"Sure," he revs up the engine, you yelp when he drives faster, weaving through traffic. You're sure he broke some traffic laws.

Despite the threat of possibly getting arrested, you squeal. Hobie stops abruptly, bumping your head on his back, Hobie's free hand holds your back so you won't get thrown off, the awkward angle making his shoulder ache. He doesn't care for the discomfort though as long as you don't turn into a street pancake.

"Hobie!" You yell, your arms let go of him, slapping his back with your palm "I almost flew off!"

"I'm holding on to you aren't I?" He says in between laughs, as you smack his back a few more times, he's wearing leather, this is definitely hurting you more than it's hurting him.

You stop when your hand stings, but you don't give him much reprieve when you pinch the back of his hand that's still holding on to you.

He brings his hand back at lightning speed, "I just saved your ass, and this is how you repay me?"

"You drive like a maniac! You could get hurt, Hobie!"

"You liked it" he taps his helmet with his knuckles "besides, I'm wearing a helmet" Hobie hitches his leg up, getting off the motorbike.

You stay seated, arms crossed around you, you glare at him. "Not the point"

"Alright, would you get off?" He extends you a hand, helping you.

You hold his outstretched hand, making goosebumps appear on your arms, you slap his hand away when your feet hit the ground, hiding how a simple helping hand makes you feel.

"I'm serious Hobie, Be careful next time, please"

"I will, promise" he can't help surrendering to you, especially when you look up at him like that, your eyes gleaming with determination. If only he could just quickly lean down maybe he can–

Hobie quickly stops his train of thought, bringing his hands over to the clasps of your helmet, taking it off for you.

His fingers graze your chin and neck, making your breath hitch in your throat. He sees you swallow, neck bobbing up and down. Hobie takes his eyes off your skin, clearing his throat.

"Hold still, I'm trying to fix your hair" you pause, actually holding still for him. Hobie tucks it behind your ear, his fingers stay a few seconds longer on the shell of your ear. The cold rings on his fingers are a stark contrast to your heated skin. You stare up at him the entire time, waiting for something. He doesn't take that step, instead Hobie hands the helmet back to you, before he takes his off.

One day all these lingering looks and soft touches will finally break the dam, spilling your affections for each other that's been festering for a decade inevitably take over. Hobie knows once you both cross that line, there's no turning back. He won't risk it, afraid of ruining your friendship for something he's not a hundred percent sure about, he obviously can't read your mind, so until you vocally tell him you like him, he won't cross that line. Hobie sometimes thinks he's delusional, reading your concern for something romantic and not completely platonic on his end. You're best friends of course you would be concerned for him.

Meanwhile, you share the same sentiment, waiting for those words that you've been waiting for to come from Hobie. You see your relationship like a loose thread, just one tug and everything will unravel. Either making or breaking everything you've built with him.

So you're stuck in a perpetual cycle of mutual pining, waiting for the right time to say it, and yet too afraid to cross that thin line of friendship into something more.

You scratch at a peeling sticker on your helmet. Your eyes downturned. The cherry red color of your helmet compliments his jet black one, yours is covered in various stickers you've collected over the years, some cutesy, some you've nicked from Hobie's stash. His helmet is absolutely covered in band stickers, some random ones he picked up from different places; there's no coordination where he placed them. There's a few scattered ones where you sneakily placed your own stickers, adorable looking ones in a sea of punk. The helmets do a good job representing you both.

"Alright, this is the place" he takes his wicks out of the ponytail. Showing you the name of the place.

"Aunt Janet's fabric store?" You read the sign out loud.

"Heard this place from a friend who does that thing where you dress up as a character"

"Cosplay?"

"Yeah that, he said this place sells fabric for cheap. Said this place was a 'hidden gem'" Hobie makes quotation marks with his fingers. "Might help with your project" the way you're staring at him, makes him doubt himself by bringing you here, what was he thinking?

You snort "well, let's see about that" you grin, taking his worry away.

Hobie opens the door for you, the bell jingling, signaling your arrival. The inside looks bigger than you thought. The walls are lined with multitudes of fabrics, all in different colors and types, some shiny and metallic, some sheer.

"Wow, they've got everything" you look at a random fabric, your eyes land on the tag. "Holy shit!" You look at Hobie, pointing at the price tag "is this real?"

"Is that cheap for that kind?"

"Duh-doy!" You point at the price again, almost fifty percent off the usual fabric you buy in your regular store.

"Dork" Hobie flicks your forehead, "let's look around, yeah?" He moves through the store.

"Am I dreaming? Oh my gosh! Look at this one!" You squeal when you see a dark fabric embroidered with flowers, Hobie watches you fangirl over cloth, a lopsided smile on his lips. You gasp "it's sixty percent off!" Feet bouncing excitedly.

"You want me to flick you again? Just to make sure you're not dreaming" Hobie leans on a display, toppling a dozen rolled up fabrics. It crashes loudly on the tiled floor, making you stare wildly at Hobie, he stares back at you, eyes wide, should you make a run for it?

"Shit" you both say simultaneously.

"What was that?" A third voice rings out from the back of the store, a tapping sound comes closer to your frozen bodies.

You grab Hobie's arm, Hiding behind him.

A small woman with a cane rounds the corner, "Oh, what happened here" for dramatic effect, a rolling green fabric stops near her cane. She has thick eyeglasses, her colorful clothes grabs your attention, she rests her hands on her cane, eyes turned curiously to the both of you. She reminds you of a fairytale grandmother, only this grandma might make you pay for damages. "Well? They can't talk for you" she gestures towards the fallen merchandise.

"I leaned against the shelf, sorry. I–" He pushes you out from his back to face the woman. " – we'll fix it, don't worry"

"You better, these old bones can't lift those up" she sweetly smiles.

"We're really really sorry, um?" You ask for her name.

"It's Aunt Janet for you sweetheart"

"Wow, you're the Aunt Janet! It's my first time here, I love your store!" You excitedly say, Hobie raises a brow at you, it's like you're meeting a celebrity.

"Aww thank you, honey. Come with me, I have new fabrics sent in a few days ago, you look like a lace kinda gal" you nod enthusiastically. Aunt Janet gestures for you to go over to her side. You dodge rolls of fabric on the floor, careful not to step over them. "As for your boyfriend, he has a lot of work to do," she laughs at Hobie.

You correct her, as to not make things awkward for the both of you later "oh, he's my best friend, actually"

"Mm-hmm sure, 'best friend' y'know that's how my husband and I used to call eachother" she leads you farther into the store.

You crane your neck behind you, looking apologetically at Hobie. You have a silent conversation with him, while Janet leads you.

He makes a rectangle with his hand, his index finger poking a hole in it. You owe me.

You make a number two with your fingers. Two down eight to go. Already dreading what he's gonna ask for in exchange.

Hobie stares at your retreating back, watching you walk away with a fond smile. Unbeknownst to him, Janet was sneakily watching the interaction.

You and Aunt Janet talk about various things, from facts about different fabrics to your lives. You learned that she did in fact marry her best friend, she even showed you a few pictures (you thought they were adorable) She also told you that the store can sell fabric at a cheap price because she owns the building, also learning that she used to design clothes in her youth, prompting you to tell her that you're a fashion student. Janet talks about her days in the fashion industry, even giving you a few tips.

But of course she asks about you and Hobie, that's inevitable.

"So just best friends huh?" She asks as she gives you another fabric sample, a deep royal blue with a shine on it. "From where I was standing it didn't look like that" she looks at you from the corner of her eyes.

"We've been friends since year six. No offense but you only saw us together for like five minutes"

"Those five minutes were enough for me to see that you're both hopelessly in love with each other, I saw how he looks at you"

You look in between the shelves to see If Hobie heard your conversation. You see him struggling to put together the display, a roll of fabric smacks him right in his face when a shelf topples over. You hear him hiss, immediately wanting to help him.

Janet looks at you with a knowing stare "I know you want to help him" you turn to look at her "trust me I know that look anywhere, I had the same face everytime I look at my best friend"

If she can see that you're absolutely in love with him, why can't he see it for himself?

You clear your throat "thank you, I think I'm gonna help him, before he hurts himself more"

"I mean no disrespect, sweetheart" She taps your foot with her cane "all I'm saying is, it's a rare thing, what you two have. Some people look for it their entire lives, and yet you two already found it. Don't let it pass you by"

"I'm– I don't know" you stammer out.

She nods, grabbing your hand, her hand feels foreign over yours and yet comforting. "One day" you'll know she lets go. Thumping her cane on the floor, "now, you gonna buy something or what?"

You chuckle, as you hear an oof behind the shelves.

—

You give Janet your list of fabrics you're ordering in front of the register, your hand plays with a square sample of a metallic cloth, it feels cold in your hand. Hobie pokes your side, getting your attention, he lays his arm on your shoulder, leaning against you.

"Got it fixed, Aunty" he points behind him with his thumb.

"Good, how's your nose?"

"I'll live" Hobie taps your elbow "Got everything?"

"Hmm? Oh, not yet I've only bought a few that I'm sure I'll use, I'm still not done designing yet, so I still need to come back here" you look up at him, breath warm on his skin.

"Alright, tell me when, yeah? I'll give you a ride"

"You don't have to"

"I want to," He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. Hobie sees Janet stares at you two with a knowing look. He raises a brow.

"This is your total" Janet exhales, showing you what you owe her. "You come back, I've enjoyed our little conversations"

"Thank you" you notice she added another discount on top of the already cheap price but before you could decline it, she gives you a stern look, shutting you up immediately. "Thank you, really. And we'll definitely come back, I mean look at him, I'm gonna need yards of fabric" you give her the bills.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hobie leans slightly away from you, arms still looped over your shoulders.

"It means you're very tall and you need a lot of fabric to cover your tall ass"

Hobie smirks, an innuendo on the tip of his tongue.

Janet cuts him off before he could open his mouth "okay, go flirt somewhere else. You're getting too sweet for my taste"

"I'm not flirting" you simultaneously say, making you look questionably at each other.

"Thank you, come back anytime" Janet smiles sweetly, practically pushing you two out of her store.

—

You grab the paper bag from the cashier, a quick thank you thrown their way. Walking outside you spot Hobie immediately. He's leaning against his bike, hands tucked inside the pocket of his leather jacket, smoke bellowing out from his lit cigarette. Hobie looks cool without even trying, looking like he came out of a magazine. He quickly flicks his cigarette over to the nearby trashcan when he sees you.

You set the bag on the bike's seat, grabbing his shawarma, handing the hot food over to him. "You got my chips?" He asks, peeking inside the bag.

"Our chips" you bite a piece of fry.

"Don't eat it all" He grabs your hand that's holding the half-bitten chip, bringing it closer to his mouth, you play tug of war, pulling your hand back. But he's too strong for you, he ends up almost biting your finger off, leaving some of his drool over your fingers.

"Ack! Hobie, come on, that's disgusting!" You try to wipe your hand over his shirt, but he dodges you last second.

"That's what you get for eating my chip" he steps back when you try to come near him again, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"I bought them" you say matter-of-fact.

"I punched out my card for it" he bites into his shawarma.

You narrow your eyes at him "ass"

"Love" that sounded a lot sweeter in his mind, but he's still chewing his food so it came out muffled, sounding a bit like 'calf'. But you still understood it, you wiped your hand over some napkins in defeat.

Hobie comes closer to you, you're both leaning on the side of his bike, taking bites of your own food. You watch as the sky slowly turns orange, the late afternoon sun glowing on your face.

Hobie watches as your eyes glimmer in the light, taking his breath away. He can't help but take your attention away "Oi, tell me about your project again?"

You knit your brows in confusion "wait, you went with me, without understanding the full thing?"

"Well, you did rush it out last time"

You sigh, not in exasperation but because of his overflowing fondness for you. He accepted your terms without understanding the full extent of your project, he trusts you that much. He just understood that you needed his help with a project, and he accepted, well the favour card helped. But still he agreed.

"We have to make this look, um, outfit, that is the perfect blend of both our styles. And you have to model it in front of everyone" you explain the gist of it.

"A perfect blend of each other huh? so basically we're making our kid then, yeah?"

"That's a weird way of putting it, but yeah I guess so, aren't you worried about modeling?"

"Don't worry about the modeling part, have I ever told you I got scouted once?"

"Hobs, I was there" you reminded him. "You told the guy to fuck off back to his mother" you chuckle remembering the memory.

"That was a good day" He grabs a chip from the bag, "I've got you, yeah? 'm not letting you fail"

"I know you do" you sip at your drink, hiding your shy smile.

—

You step on a stool to reach the top of Hobie's head, the wood wobbles, making Hobie protectively hold your waist. You can feel his warm hands over your blouse.

"I've got you" He watches as you take measurements of his head with a tape measure "please don't tell me you're gonna give me a bloody hat"

Various conversations from your classmates can be heard but you ignore them, focusing only on Hobie.

"Maybe" you smirk at him, "you've got a big head, Hobs"

"Y'know what they say about men with big heads" he loops his thumbs on your belt loops, playing with the rough denim.

"Please don't finish that"

"What? I was about to say we have big brains, what were you thinking 'bout?" He tilts his head, you move him back to place, your hand over his jaw, making him look up.

"Nothing, I was thinking the same thing" you quip as you measure his neck, the tape is cold over his warm skin.

"Sure" he peeks down at you, the tip of your tongue poking out from your slightly parted lips. He exhales "you almost done?"

You scoff "we just started, Hobie. What, you got places to be?"

He rolls his neck when you finally let go. "Band practice" he lies.

"I'll try to be quick then" you hop off the small stool, Hobie helps you down, still grasping your hips. "What size suit do you wear?"

He scrunches his nose "do I look like I wear bloody suits?"

"Right, stupid question" you straighten out your tape measure. "Size of your shoes then?"

Hobie smirks, a quip already on his lips.

"Don't, you already tried that" you point at him. He shuts his mouth playfully, mimicking closing an invisible zipper over it. "Size shoes please" you slap his chest lightly.

He dramatically shrugs, mouth still tightly closed.

"Don't make me take your shoes off" you bunch his shirt in your hand, playfully threatening him. He finds it adorable, he can't help teasing you more.

"Guess"

"Guess?" Your eyes widen at the double meaning of what he's asking. Knowing him, If you answer with a size too small, he's gonna be a brat about it the entire time. But if you answer with a size too big, the size of his ego will triple in magnitude, making him an absolute menace. It's a lose-lose situation. You have to guess correctly.

"What will it be, lovey?" He looks at your thinking face, a knot on your forehead, lips pursed.

You choose neither "I'm not answering that, just wear your own bloody shoes" you pat yourself on the back internally, outsmarting Hobie.

"You're no fun" despite his disappointed words, his large grin betrays his true feelings. "Cheeky" he scoffs, waiting for your reaction.

"Mm-hmm" you tap his arm with your pencil, "lift your arm, please" you bend his raised arm at his wrist, making a half ballerina stance. You choose to ignore his last comment, rolling your eyes, putting a stop to your back and forth.

Hobie watches you measure his arm, your knuckles brush against his warm skin, you take notice of the goosebumps blooming on his skin, choosing to ignore it, avoiding another back and forth teasing, this time coming from you.

"Right" you take the pencil from where you've placed it on your ear, scribbling his size on your sketchbook. You brush away the various papers and tools littered over your table. Hobie brings his long arm down for a second before you put your hands over both, raising them to his sides.

"You done yet?" Hobie's getting antsy, especially when you hold him so tenderly. It's not like he doesn't like it, it's just that he wants to get it over with so his heart will stop thumping so fast against his chest. He's sure you're gonna give him a heart attack any second now.

The classroom's noise fades out in the background.

"Not even close, Hobs" you scribble down the words 'chest and waist'. Hobie sees it, legs bouncing so he has an excuse when you feel his heartbeat while measuring his chest. "Hobie, stop moving or I'll have to start again" you stretch the tape over his chest, sure enough, you can feel how fast his heart's pounding. Shit you gotta finish this fast, or you'll be a goner.

You quickly jot the information down, clearing your throat. Bending down slightly, you hug him, pulling the tape over his waist, face almost completely over his stomach. Hobie feels the dam cracking.

"Sorry, I just gotta" you point down, too awkward to tell him what you have to do.

"Sure" Hobie nods, not completely understanding what you meant. He should've asked though.

Hobie doesn't like not moving, but when you fully kneel in front of him, embracing him again, pulling the tape over his lower waist, He turns to stone, avoiding looking down at you as you clearly avoid that area.

You've done this a million times before, why is it when it comes to Hobie everything seems to leave you flustered?

You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly "is this okay? Tell me if you're uncomfortable and I'll stop, okay?"

"I'm fine, it's fine" Hobie avoids your gaze, he plays it off nonchalantly, inside he's burning, he hides his shaking hands behind him.

Hobie watches the white ceiling instead, focusing on listening to your classmates' conversations to trick his mind from thinking something inappropriate. He finds out your classmate just bought their first car, good for them, he thinks.

Hobie exhales a trembled breath when you wrap the tape over his thigh. You can feel his muscles tensing at the contact. You bite your lip, trying to focus on finishing it up.

He just learned that one of your classmates' name is Hannah, and she apparently likes shepherd pie– Hobie closes his eyes when your hand grazes his hip again, the tape falling on the length of his leg.

"Almost done, you okay?"

Hobie looks down, that was a mistake on his end. He almost chokes on his own spit. Be a fucking adult, it's just her. He curses himself, that's the problem though, it's you, isn't it?

You feel hot, seeing how he looks down at you, his lips slightly parted. You shake your thoughts, That's your best friend you moron! Stop!

" 'm fine" Hobie's proud of himself for managing to say something. He feels bad, you're acting like a professional and he's a mess, heart stuttering with every contact.

You stand up, knees creaking. You're not even done measuring him yet, maybe you could just estimate the rest? He's fine having loose clothes right?

"Right, uh, I need to meet with you again, bang out some– I mean brainstorm some ideas" you change your choice of words so fast, already learning your lesson from last time. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hobie though.

Still reeling from a second ago, Hobie clears his throat, he internally fights with himself, whether or not to tease you with your first choice of word. "Of course, just let me know" He decides not to tease you more, if he chose to say it, he might end up flustered too. But his last sentence sounded too formal, a consequence of his (still) fogged up mind.

"I've already submitted the first rough sketch to Mrs. Williams, so we're good" you awkwardly make a double thumbs up.

"Yours or my place?" He blurts out.

"Uh, yours if that's okay? My dorm doesn't allow visitors staying late so"

"That's fine then, just don't come over too early" you both sound like you're acquaintances, oh Hobie hates this, this is exactly what he was avoiding.

You take notice of the mood change, so you try to break the ugly vibe permeating from you both.

"I'll bring the food" you say in a sing-song voice, bumping the tip of your shoe over his boots.

"And drinks?" Hobie raises a brow. Tricking you to use one of his favours without punching a hole in your card.

"And drinks" you sigh defeated, it's the most you can do after making him uncomfortable, in your mind at least. For Hobie it was far from uncomfortable, he felt like he was drowning, your touch the only thing bringing him back to the surface. It was the most pleasant thing, if only it didn't end with you both being awkward towards each other.

"Deal"

You shake his hand, doing your old secret handshake with him, your mind drifting off in the past.

You were this close from unraveling the thread that binds you both, good thing you stopped tugging at it. Hobie can see the fissures you've left on the dam.

A/N: Sorry this took a while. Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

#thread the needle series #thread the needle chapter 2 #thread the needle #ttn #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie brown x y/n #spider punk x y/n #fanfic #tw food mention #cw food #hobie fluff

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Thunk! (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

I watched Top Gun: Maverick. Need I say more for the motivation to write this short little fic? If I continued this short little fic, would be people be interested in reading it? Let me know! Otherwise, pour in some requests for me. I’ve got the rare motivation to actually write. 

Summary: You’re dying from the heat of the sun, but some are worth the burning feeling. One of them is Bradley Bradshaw. 

In other words: You’re hot and sweaty, but so is Bradshaw and it may just be the thing to make you go haywire. That and the football he accidentally hit your head with. 

Fluff(?)

Words: 1.1k

Part 2

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The heat was sweltering and that was putting it mildly.

“Beer?”

You look up from your book as a cold bottle touches your cheek making you flinch a little. Way too eager to get any sort of salve, you take the bottle quickly almost spilling it. “Don’t mind if I freaking do.”

Penny, your aunt Penny that is, slides onto the bench chair in front of you, a similar drink in her own hands. Taking a small swig of her beer, she nods at the paperback in your hands. “How is it?”

You shrug as you take your own slow sip. “Decent.”

A small but all-knowing grin slowly etches itself on her lips. “Hm, okay.” Her tone sardonic. It makes you want to wipe the expression off her stupidly pretty face, but you hold off on saying anything else. Anything, and you mean anything is ammo for teasing when it comes to this woman and she’s been going strong for the past couple of weeks.

“Spend the next couple of months with Penny.” Your mother had almost ordered you to do. Fresh out of university in the standard 4-year period time-frame. You weren’t one to take breaks, never have been. Throwing your body into lectures, your student life flew by and before you knew it, that part of your life was over.

No parties, no hangouts, just you, your copy of Pride and Prejudice, and your cat Judy.

In a brief, terrible miscalculation of saying your thoughts out loud in front of your mother, she then pushed you into taking a couple months off from looking for a “forever job” and booked you a plane ticket straight to this beach instead.

And that leaves you here. 2 weeks later from flying in an airplane by yourself for the first time.

Almost hurling the contents of your stomach in the process.

You were definitely not looking forward to going home.

You both fall into comfortable silence for a small while until you pick up your beer bottle and put it to your sweaty, otherwise blotchy cheek once more. Not missing a beat, Penny comments on it immediately. “You know, the bar has a multitude of problems, but the AC is not one of them.” She places her elbows on the table and rests her chin on one of her palms. “ I know you get hot easily kiddo, why don’t you read inside?”

Tapping the bottle, you instantly avoid the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Uh- just,-“ shit. You thought. This woman was good, too damn good at getting under your skin. “Just wanted some fresh air?”

Why’d you fucking question yourself?

“This the same girl who hates hiking, biking, running, and otherwise any other activity that ends with “ing” that happens outdoors?”

“I don’t hate them, I’m just not very good at them.” You defended, eyes still averting all over the place.

Another swig of beer as she raises her eyebrows. “Riiiight,” she elongates her speech, making it sound as sarcastic as possible. She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before another, much huskier voice screams at the both of you.

“Heads up!”

Oh boy you thought. Here we go again.

The football slams against your head, hard enough that an audible thunk! rang in your ears. Your shoulders tense and letting out an “ow” you palm against your skull to rub at the site of impact.

Penny puts the teasing on hold and immediately scans you over for any injuries. “Oh shit, are you okay?” She asks, voice dipped in worry.

You manage to say “All good.” With a small grimace, eyes still squinted.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m really sorry about that.”

It was like alarm bells rang in your head. That voice you thought. God, it was pathetic it affected you that much.

Completely forgetting about the aching for a brief while, you turn your head to the new figure beside you and sweet mother Mary, you almost regret it on the spot.

You come face to bare-chest with Bradley fucking Bradshaw.

You quickly avert your eyes once more. You’d been doing that a lot today and it was kind of getting tiring if you were being honest with yourself. Just getting attacked on all fronts you supposed.

It’s like he covered himself in baby oil or something.

There’s a hitch in your breathing that you really hope Penny doesn’t notice. “I’m uh- I’m fine-“you stutter “I’m just- I’m good.”

Nice. Great job.

“You sure?” He asks, moving his head to try and catch your gaze. “Is there any way I can say sorry or make it up to you?”

Honestly, just stand there and look pretty.

“No, I’m good, it’s no problem.”

The man was not taking that as an answer. “Look, I think we’re about done anyways, and getting a couple of drinks after getting changed- That is to say Penny’s open tonight.” He directs his question to your aunt with a hopeful smile and she just nods her head with that sly glint. “Can I repay you with some drinks?”

You weren’t a drinker and it was for good reason. Just as you were about to tell him not to worry about it once more, your aunt beat you to a reply. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it Bradshaw.” She answered for you. “As long as you don’t cheap out on her drinks.”

He just let out a scoff and rolled his eyes in amusement. “Pen, I know I can be an asshole, but I don’t think I’m that much of an asshole.”

You finally meet his gaze and he lifts the corners of his lips into another apologetic smile. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at 9 tonight.” This man is putting his full sincerity into his apology and you’re only hearing words buzz. Half of the reason being your head was still kind of aching and the other half because his sweat-slicked abs were still on full display in front of you. “Sorry again, about that.”

Not being able to come up with any other intelligible reply, you simply purse your lips and nod.

Bradshaw finally leaves your vicinity and it feels like you can breathe again. You let out a sigh and blow a piece of your hair away from your face. You notice Penny’s signature smirk and your mouth turns into a flat shape. “You knew didn’t you?”

“Anybody would know in 2 seconds.” She shrugs . “Also, your paperback’s been upside down the whole time you’ve been out here.”

You groan, slamming your already injured head onto the table in hopes that it would just knock you out cold. “He’s just stupidly hot.”

“And I just got that stupidly hot guy to buy you drinks so I deserve a thank you.” She states proudly as she finishes her beer. “Now go home, get changed, consume alcohol, and live a little.”

You hear her rise up from the bench in front of you, probably getting ready to handle her rowdy bar for the night. Before she leaves, you can’t help but make a small jab of your own. “Yeah, well take your own advice and screw Mitchell already.”

“I already have, and I’m not planning to again” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Yet.”

“Ewww.”

“Hey, you serve snarky, you get snarky.”

#top gun maverick #top gun #miles teller #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Tom cruise #x reader #top gun fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #fanfic

[white-poppie]

A little house with a picket fence

SYNOPSIS: This is the tale of how you and Nanami live your life in Kuantan, happily ever after. GENRE: FLUFF, drabble WARNINGS: none i think... A/N: I had the house in the movie Ponyo in mind when I wrote this. I am a ff writer i don't accept character deaths breh

"Kento?" you hum softly as his lips graze your temple. Your eyes flutter softly, palm resting on his toned, bare torso. The ring on your finger glimmering from the sunlight that falls through the curtains.

"Morning, sweetheart." he hums, his voice hoary like a sea breeze in the evening.

"Morning," you reply, watching him sit up and stretch, the muscles on his back flexing.

The atmosphere in this area is completely different from the city. There's no rush; instead, there is a collective idea of taking things slowly. Most locals prefer to ride bikes or walk to their destinations since everything is in close proximity to each other.

Nanami opted for a 9 to 5 job after retiring from his career of being a sorcerer at 30 and now weekends feel like actual weekends instead of him disappearing in the cold nights.

"Go freshen up, I'll make breakfast," he says softly and you smile, taking in the calm morning as you freshen up.

Perched gracefully upon the beachfront, your home exudes an aura of tranquillity that envelops you. The lofty ceilings of the house imbue the space with a sense of grandeur and spaciousness, while the glass windows offer an unobstructed view of the vast ocean before you. The windows are perpetually ajar, inviting the salty sea air to permeate the interior and infuse it with a refreshing vitality.

You walk into the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee hitting you as you settle on the kitchen counter table, looking at Nanami make eggs and toast with coffee, wearing his favourite blue apron and grey sweatpants.

"Phew, what a view in the morning." You chuckle and he shakes his head fondly while making the coffee. Nanami likes his coffee with little creamer, not too bitter, but enough to keep him awake after he spends his nights late reading those books you brought for him so fondly.

"Reminds me, I have to fix the fence after that rottweiler broke while smashing into, playing frisbee." He sighs and you chuckle saying, "it's a relief that no one was hurt."

You hum softly and eat the breakfast lovingly prepared by him, letting the flavours melt.After you have your brekfast. Kento walks out into the sun, standing on the porch as he takes in the view from your little house on the cliff. The tides lap at a distance from the beach as you get down from the natural second storey your house is on.

Your feet land on the same, you take a deep breath inhaling the sea breeze as you look over to him.

His eyes are closed, the small wrinkles on your husband’s face crinkling gorgeously under the sunlight. His long lashes fluttering against his cheek as the wind blows, ruffling his hair.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, without looking back.

You chuckle and take a step forward, interlacing your fingers through his hand that rests on his side. “I have, multiple in fact. I have so many pictures of this exact same scene.” Yet in never phases to mesmerise you, how pretty he is.

Kento smiles and tightens his hand around yours. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against your knuckles.

"I'll be honest, sometimes, I miss being a sorcerer." He mumbles and you look at him. "More like...I miss the familiarity in the unexpectedness that came with it."

You chuckle at his words and say, "So in other words you miss Gojo?"

He groans at your words and sighs, "Don't say his name you never know, he might just land up from the sky in a private jet."

You shudder at the thought of the lanky man jumping from the sky.

Nanami walks a few steps, following the shore, his hand in yours, as you walk along the beach.

"I adore it here." He whisper softly, sighing deeply as he tilts his head back slightly, the morning rays letting him have his golden hour.

“Me too,” you say, “though I wish we had more family members here.” You sigh and Kento look at you with a soft smile.

“We can always have one of our own.” He utters gently, looking at you as you crouch or pick yet another seashell from the beach.

“It’s a good idea.” You hum softly, as Nanami stands next you. Picking up a small shard of sea glass, you close an eye and look at Nanami through the yellow-ish tinted glass.

And he flashes you that smile of his. Effervescent. Reminding you just how lucky you are.

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

— JUJUTSU KAISEN - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi @buttercupspotify, @euphoricbi @ynjimenez

﹒ Taglist   (lmk in the comments in case you wanna be added and the link doesn't work!)

"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.]

I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

#⎯𝒿𝒿𝓀⋆ #✸ NANAMI K. #white poppie🌼 #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami my beloved #gege when i catch you gege #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #j

[hobiebrownismygod]

VENOM - Part 3

Venom!Hobie x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Having a symbiote is a canon event, so Hobie brown must've had one of his own, right?

~1.6k words

TW: Blood, Cursing, Angst

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder @@d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @choccymilkdrinker @fiepige (concept credits!!)

Concept art by @levionok!!

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Where the fuck is he?

You'd been calling Hobie nonstop, the contents of the video file flashing through your mind as you searched for him. You drove around the city on your bike as quickly as you could, eyes scanning the roads and alleyways for any sign of your best friend.

After you'd kicked him out yesterday, you hadn't heard a single word from him. He hadn't picked up any of your calls, and you hadn't found him anywhere. Usually you'd at least see him swinging around the city, doing his thing as Spider-man. But you hadn't.

Not a single glimpse.

So where could he be?

"Excuse me, miss, this is gonna sound really weird but...have you seen Spider-man anywhere lately?"

"Spider-man? No..I actually haven't."

"Alright, thank you. Sorry for the bother." you nodded at the woman before zooming back onto the street, joining the traffic as your head began to hurt with worry.

Nobody else had seen him either.

You didn't know what to do. How were you supposed to find a man that obviously didn't want to be found? Or what if...what if something had happened to him? What if that symbiote had done the same thing to him that it'd done to all the other 'volunteers'?

You sped up, panic settling in the depths of your stomach. You felt like you were going to be sick. The thought of Hobie...losing himself to that thing...no, no, he was too strong for that. He wouldn't.

Right?

Suddenly, you slammed on the brakes, the bike coming to a halt as a flash of black flew right in front of you, too fast for you to make out what it was. You squinted as it moved farther into the distance.

Could it be?

"Hobie?" You whispered to yourself, eyes wide with fear. The flash had been a figure, a human figure, pitch black with snow white eyes, mixing into the rest of its body like running mascara. Without a second thought, you kickstarted the bike, following the figure as it swung through the city, in a pattern eerily similar to the movements you'd seen Hobie practice so many times as Spider-man.

It was him...but it wasn't him.

You were struggling to keep up with the figure, already accelerating past the speed limits and having to swerve between lanes and other vehicles. But you couldn't lose him...if you did, you might never find him again.

The figure swung onto a tall building, hitting it with a powerful crash, causing some rubble to fall down to the pavement below, eliciting yells from those situated under it. You took your eyes off the figure for a moment to get out of the way of the debris, but when you looked back up, the figure had disappeared.

"No, no, no!" You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks, looking around furiously as you scanned the sky for any sign of him. "Fuck!"

Taking your helmet off, you threw it onto the ground in frustration, breathing heavily as you tried to calm yourself down. You couldn't make a scene. Taking a deep breath, you looked back up at where the figure had made contact with the building. Claw marks.

That's a start.

You got off the bike and began to walk down the street, looking up at the other buildings. "Come on...there has to be more" you muttered under your breath, turning around in the middle of the street. Your gaze landed on a building, maybe a 100 feet in front of you, with the same large gashes on the side.

You approached the building, and then you saw more, these ones on the edge of the roof of an apartment. A girl was standing outside on its balcony, looking utterly confused. You gave her a nervous smile before you continued to search.

You found yourself following a trail of, not only claw marks, but holes that looked like they were made by spikes, and faint footprints...but could you really call them footprints? They didn't look like footprints. More like giant dents in the pavement, always coming in groups of four, two in the front and two in the back.

As the scratches and dents increased, you realized you were approaching an alleyway, a skinny, dark one, with a few larger garbage bins blocking the entrance. You were about to continue your search down the street, but then you noticed the scrapes on the concrete below the containers.

He was here. He had to be.

Using all your strength, you pushed the bin to the side with a grunt, making space for yourself to squeeze through.

At the end of the alleyway was that figure, huddled up and facing a corner. You watched in horror as the darkness covering the figure disappeared, as if it was just melting away. Underneath it...was Hobie.

You were about to call out his name when you heard something. Sniffling.

"Please, please stop doing this" he whimpered out.

You walked a little closer, staying as silent as humanly possible. He hadn't seen you yet. As you approached him, you noticed he was talking to something. A...head. But it wasn't a human head, no, it was the head of the figure you'd seen jumping through the city, with its giant white eyes and midnight black skin, except this time you could also make out a mouth full of sharp white teeth, pointed like those of a dragon.

"Get out of my head-"

"We're not in your head...we're real."

You froze. What was that voice? It was like a hiss, the kind of voice a snake would have if animals could speak. The kind of voice you'd hear in your nightmares. And it looked like a nightmare, smiling up at Hobie, trying to convince him of...whatever it was trying to do.

"We're hungry..." it hissed. "We should eat another"

Another?

"No" Hobie sobbed, falling to his knees. You'd never seen him look so defenseless before. Whatever this thing was, it was hurting him. Badly. "Just get out, GET OUT!" He yelled out, grabbing at the thing. The head, you realized, was connected to Hobie's chest by a long, pitch black neck, for lack of a better word. It dodged out of his grasp and elongated, wrapping around him tightly.

Hobie struggled, and you watched in horror as the face held him up, squeezing him so hard he looked like he'd break. "We can't get out now...we are one." The face opened its mouth, revealing a long, disgusting tongue, licking at Hobie's face as he sobbed. "One."

It hissed before closing its mouth, knocking its head against Hobie's and throwing him back. The head slithered back towards him, sinking into his chest and disappearing, leaving Hobie shaking. He curled up against the wall, hands over his head.

You decided this was your chance to approach him. You slowly walked towards him, staying slightly crouched. You could hear him crying softly, face hidden behind his arms.

"Hobie?" you whispered out.

He looked up and you jumped. He looked horrible. His face was stained with blood, lips cracked and bleeding, dark circles under his eyes and oh god...his eyes...they looked so big and watery and miserable that you just wanted to hold him and tell him it was all going to be okay.

But you couldn't promise that.

"No...no y'can't be here" he whispered, backing up as you approached him, eyes darting to the side as if he was looking for some sort of escape. "hey, hey its gonna be okay" you replied softly, kneeling down in front of him.

"What happened to you?" You asked softly, reaching your hand out towards his face. He leaned in to your touch, hot tears beginning to form again. Suddenly he jerked back. "You have to go." He said nervously, pushing you away as he struggled to stand up, shaking. "You have to go!"

"What?" you stood up with him, putting your hands on his arms and looking up at him concernedly. "Hobie, I know what's going on, I know what that thing's doing to you-"

"Its gonna hurt you" he sobbed, falling back against the wall for support. "Please, it's gonna hurt you, you need t'get out of here, please" he cried.

"Hobie, I know what it is, I know what it's doing to you-"

"I-I can take care of m'self, you need to go-" suddenly, he clutched at his head, letting out a yell. You backed up out of fear as he convulsed, clawing at his hair. "Hobie!" You grabbed his hands to stop him from tearing his own skin, "-There's nothing there, there's nothing!" You told him, trying to hold him down.

"NO-NO-" He yelled out, punching and clawing.

Suddenly, he stopped. He fell silent, eyes closed.

Then he crumpled to the floor.

"Hobie!" You fell to your knees next to him, turning him over and trying to shake him awake. Tears were beginning to form in your own eyes as you begged him to get up. "Please, wake up, Hobes please" you whispered, cupping his face in your hands and shaking him.

Then you heard a quiet hiss. Strands of black began to cover him like vines, wrapping around his arms, legs and chest. You tried to rip them off, but you couldn't stop them. Stumbling back you watched as the darkness covered him completely, morphing him back into that same figure you'd seen before.

Except this time...there was more.

The black skin erupted in spikes, covering his shoulders, spine and hands, sharp as crystals. His eyes opened slightly and he looked over at you, a tired look on his face. "Y/N..." he croaked out, lifting his arm to reach out towards you.

The black crawled up his neck, vines enveloping his mouth and face until it was like he was wearing a mask, not a single inch of skin visible.

"Hobie..." you whispered, shaking your head as you pushed yourself back.

"Y/N..." he repeated, eyes closing.

Suddenly, they swung open, the whites of the mask having covered them completely.

"Run."

A/N: Lol cliffhanger. Next part will probably be the last one. Hope y'all enjoyed this <3 Also it's taking me a lot longer to get posts out cuz midterms are kicking my ass so sorry for the delay :(

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #atsv #miles morales #spiderman #atsv hobie #across the spider verse #beyond the spiderverse #spider punk #venom!hobie #venom symbiote #venom #venom x reader #hobie #astv hobie #hobie brown headcanons #hobie my beloved #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #spiderverse hobie #astv #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk #atsv brainrot #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader

[wheatnoodle]

part 3 :)

read part one and two

—

july 13th, 1989. it was on a pure gut feeling alone that max was biking to loch nora at just gone 9:30pm.

steve had dropped dustin off earlier at the arcade, around three in the afternoon, but an hour in, walkied to let him know mrs. byers would be driving him home. dustin whined and complained into the receiver, only to get short, tired answers from the older teen, and shortly after that, silence. he switched it off.

he’d been doing that quite a bit lately. shutting off. shutting up. shutting down. he’s putting space between himself and the rest of the world. but this time felt…different. it felt wrong, even. and so, max’s scores dropped. she lost at pac-man four times. and she’s barely got even thirty tickets.

she can’t focus. even as she skates home, her brain is heavy with concern for her friend. for her brother. she pushes her food around on her plate at dinner, stares blankly at the table while her mom- while susan cracks open another beer. her homework stays in her backpack and she lays on her back on her bed, searching for advice in the ceiling.

and so she waits until 9:15 rolls around and she hears susan crash on the couch. then max is up and toeing on her shoes, stepping out of her room. she grabs her bag, shoves in two cans of chicken noodle soup, and sneaks out the front door.

she really shouldn’t be riding her bike when it’s this dark out, her glasses only helping in the daylight. but she pushes forward anyways. she has to. she makes it to his house in no time and parks her bike next to the front door.

unlike dustin, max rings the doorbell. few seconds later and the door cracks open about a foot. god, he looks…awful.

“hey, kid. um…’m sorry, but now’s not a good time,” steve slurs as he speaks, runs an uncoordinated hand through his hair that’s so messy it looks like he’s been yanking it all night. her eyes focus in on the red splotches in his cheeks, tear tracks illuminated by the porch light. his eyes are red rimmed and puffy, making them even bigger, even browner. the neck is stretched out in his shirt, the scar across his throat an angry red with scratches up and down his skin. sweatpants slipping just slightly down his hips and showing off more scarring.

“actually, it seems like now is the right time,” max says softly and nudges her way inside. there’s empty beer cans on the floor, couch pillows and throw blankets strewn everywhere.

“sorry ‘bout the…y’know. the mess,” he mumbled and gestures vaguely to the living room. she turns to face him, takes in how exhausted he seems, how he curls in on himself.

her backpack hits the ground and max walks forward, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on as tight as she can. it takes a few seconds before he hugs her back, burying his face in the top of her head. she’s not even the slightest bit grossed out as she feels fresh tears in her hair. her heart clenches.

“I brought soup,” she says into his shoulder. it gets a weak laugh into her hair and she pulls back with a little smile. “i’m gonna go make that, ‘cause i didn’t eat and i don’t think you have either. i think you should come sit at the table while i make it because quite frankly, i don’t trust you to not fall down your basement stairs.”

he nods a bit, cringing at the pain in his head. “fair enough.”

she’s made dinner and cleaned up for her drunk mom plenty of times, it’s like second nature. but this time, it doesn’t feel like a chore. like something she has to do. she wants to do it. she wants to take care of him. she’s helping. he needs a friend, and she is here. just like he always is for her.

it’s silent while they eat. comfortable silence. and soon enough he’s sipping on a hot tea and she’s doing her homework across from him.

“did i ever tell you about the russians?”

she looks up when he breaks the quiet. his voice is scratchy, dry from all his tears. “hm?” she hums, pushes him to elaborate.

“the russians. at starcourt,” steve says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. it happens so often, it might as well be. she puts her pencil down.

“no. do you want to?” max asks. her full attention is back on him. the bags under his eyes are so dark.

“yeah. it’s heavy shit though, so you don’t have to hear it if you don’t want to.” it blows her mind that even in such a state, he offers her an out. he lets her know that he puts her above him.

“tell me about it.” she’s sure in her words. she’s grown too quickly. wise beyond her years. it breaks his heart.

“you know the mall was just a front for the russians and their gate to the upside down. i won’t bore you with how we got there, but we ended up in their like…lab, bunker thing? in like…the basement?” his brows are scrunched and he’s staring straight into his mug, playing with the teabag string. “and…and they saw us. me, robin, dustin, erica. god, i can’t believe i got those two involved-“

“you wouldn’t have been able to stop them if you tried. you know that,” max interrupts him. she knows how stubborn those two are. she also knows how undeniably loyal they are as well.

“yeah…yeah, i know. but…anyways, they saw us. and we’re getting chased by russian soldiers through this underground lab and i’m dressed like a fucking sailor with nothing but an ice cream scoop in my pocket.” max snorts at the memory of his old uniform. (though of course she can’t help but miss the shorts.) “yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. go on.”

“okay. so they’re chasing us, and we make it through this door. we get is shut and luckily, there’s this like hatch in the floor. and robin and i are using our whole body weight to hold this door closed. they’re pounding on the other side and it’s so loud. i’m yelling at the kids to go down that fuckin’ hatch. dustin just stops. looks like he’s gonna try and stay back. if i could kick him down that hole, i would.

“finally, the kid goes down and it’s at just the right time because they open the door. i don’t know what they did to robin, yelled at them not to hurt her, but they grabbed me and i’m being…dragged to this room. at some point they get cuffs on my wrists and the bench in this room is metal and it’s so, so cold. and they shut the door. big, heavy fuckin’ door. there’s two dudes there.” he pauses, shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“steve…you don’t need to it it’s too much to think about,” max says, reaches her leg across and kicks his shin. he looks like he’s been going back to that room tonight.

“no, ‘s fine. gotta at some point,” he shrugs. “anyways, they start asking all these questions. they start with like, how did you get down here? what do you know? how did you find us? and…and i keep telling them that it was a mistake, that like…our shipment didn’t come or some shit and we went to look for it. said the elevator fell. that wasn’t good enough. they didn’t believe me. and the other guy who’s standing there, he just starts…he’s…he’s just fuckin’…wailin’ on me.”

she watches with sad eyes as he mimics getting punched in the face, his own fist lightly connecting with his jaw.

“no matter what i said. and he’s…he’s asking me who i work for. i tell him the truth, tell him i work at scoops. fuckin’ ice cream, dude. might as well have been telling him the best joke he’s ever heard. the other one just keeps punching me. i can’t hear them anymore. i don’t remember when that happened, but suddenly my ears were just ringing and my eyes were so blurry, all i can see is my own blood. it’s all i can taste.”

his hands are trembling as he scrambles in his pockets for his pack of newports and a black bic lighter. when he can’t get it to light, she reaches across and takes the lighter, flicking the flame and holding it steady. he nods his thanks.

he pulls in deep, holding it in his lungs until it burns. “dude, i’m fuckin’ begging them at this point to just kill me. i can feel the bones in my face just like, breaking every time he punches me. at some point, i pass out. finally, y’know? in the back of my mind, i’m hoping i’m dead. and then i wake up! tied to a chair! and to make things worse, robin hasn’t gotten away because she’s tied to my back. and after i get the life beaten out of me, at some point she reminds me what an asshole i was. which sucked, i was already hurting. then they gave me the ol’ mad max.”

“the what?”

“needle in the neck with some random drug.” a hand covers her mouth. she can feels tears in her eyes that she tries to blink away.

“holy shit…who- who knows about this?” max’s voice shakes as she speaks. she wants to reach out, run her fingertips over the barely there scars. she pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands instead (it’s two sizes two big since it’s technically not her’s but it’s been a hard night and he’s dead, so he can’t tell her not to take it anyways).

“hm…robin, dustin, erica…now you too,” he says, staring off into the distance. she can’t get him to meet her gaze. “every time i close my eyes, i’m back there. i can’t fall asleep without dreaming of being there, or being…eaten…by fucking bats in another dimension.”

“i get that. every day i see that…thing killing him. i see vecna…taking his image and using it to hurt me. i’m hoping the memories from in the creel house don’t come back though,” max mumbles. steve passes her a napkin and she realizes she didn’t do as good a job holding her tears in as she thought.

“i hope you don’t remember it either,” he agrees. “i hate it here.”

“where? this house, hawkins, or life?”

“all of the above?”

“fair.” she nods, takes a sip of her neglected water. “would you leave?”

he doesn’t say anything. just takes a drag from his cigarette and taps off the ash in an empty cup. a look takes over his face. like he’s searching for the right words to avoid hurting her.

“yeah. in a heartbeat.”

she can’t be mad at him. she gets it. she loves the family she’s made in hawkins, but if she had the choice, they never would have moved here. “have you been looking at places? like…outside of here?”

“i…” he sighs. he knows he can’t lie, not to max. “i was lookin’ at this little place out west. it’s all the way out in california.”

max smiles then. bright and crinkling her eyes. “you would love it there.”

“yeah?” he chuckles weakly, clears his throat of the smoke.

“yeah. the sun and the water. you can be a stupid volleyball jock.” that one gets a real laugh out of him, one that’s got him slapping a hand over his mouth and her snorting at him. “but really. if it feels right, like leaving here will…will make life even just a little bit easier, do it. we’ll be okay. you have saved us so many times, it’s time you save you too.”

“max…”

“steve. it’s over. you can take a break from fighting for your life.” she watches as it all seems to click into place. something in his eyes changes and she knows he’s made his decision.

he writes down the address in her math notebook. tells her that if she’s more than welcome any time.

“i don’t know what to do about eddie,” he mumbles with a heavy sigh, his shoulders deflating.

her brows pull together and she looks at him in pure confusion. “what about him?”

“just…i dunno…” he says into his tea mug. she takes a second to look at him, squints as she thinks things through. and then she’s nodding.

“personally, i think eddie will wait until you’re ready. nothin’ wrong with needing to focus on yourself for a bit. besides, you can’t get into a special friendship with a special friend if you’re just gonna drag them down because you haven’t given yourself the time you need to heal from the shit the world dealt you.” max leans back in her chair, sips more of her water.

it’s steve’s turn to squint at her, glancing at her with faux disgust. “since when did it become you giving me advice? supposed to be the other way around.”

she smirks cockily, crosses her arms over her chest. “what can i say, i’m like, really good at it.”

—

they’ve gathered in eddie’s government present mobile home, everyone far too cramped together but nobody uncomfortable. dustin thought it felt like safe ground to break the news to everyone.

they’re sitting around, staring up at robin who’s standing in the middle of the room as she explains the events of the past few days. how steve had acted at the bonfire, to him no call no showing a shift and not answering keith’s calls, all the way to dustin letting himself in to the harrington household.

“…everything was just…gone. it was like he…like he never even…existed,” she chokes on her words, tears overflowing her large eyes. there’s a collective gasp amongst the group. nobody knows what to say.

max leans back on the couch, out of most people peripheral. there’s a soft smile tugging at her lips. proud and in disbelief. he really did it. he chose himself for once.

she looks over to eddie, sitting on the other end of the couch and separated by lucas on the middle cushion. his eyes are wide, every single emotion running through his face until it settles on one.

realization.

slips into another.

desperation.

he will be there when steve is ready.

—

taggie waggies:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @callme-keys @biatcgh @kgne-k @hagbaby420 @24-7shipping @coolestjoy30 @emly03 @v3lnys @sirbackpains @imzadidragonfly @definitely-not-cereal-og @alienace @starlight-archer

#stranger things #steve harrington #max mayfield #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #stranger things fanfiction #fic wip #part 3 #steddie #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic

[chvnnie]

hey. hey. do you. have any. perhaps. thoughts. about minho.

FUNNY YOU SHOULD I ASK I WAS QUITE LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT NOEASY ERA MINHO, SPECIFICALLY CHEESE MV MINHO.

there’s just. something about that motorcycle.

the leather vest, the way his hair is so perfectly slicked back. the way the green light of the bar highlights his feature perfectly, sharp jaw nudging against your collarbones as he looses himself in your neck.

sharp teeth dig into the skin, only soothed by the jolting of his tongue. the marks deepening in color. minho commits time to making sure of it.

it was a risky move — his larger hand in yours, tugged out the backdoor. through the rows of cars until you found the motorcycle you’re all too familiar with.

he chuckles when you pull at his shirt, alcohol making you needier than you should be. “are you sure this is a good idea?” the brisk late winter air pricks his neck and he’s suddenly very aware of how exposed you both are.

you hum, the hands on his shoulders gently pushing him back. the vehicle moves slightly under his weight, minho squeezing the edge of the seat to stay grounded. “straddle it.”

those two shots really gave you some confidence, huh? “your wish is my command.” he climbs onto it, leaving a little space between his lap and the handles for you. it’s lucky you wore a skirt today; hiking it up as you take a seat on him.

your clothed core rolls against his rough jeans. head rolled back in pleasure, you moan into the open air, drowned out only slightly by the music floating out of the bar. as pretty as you think minho is, he’s convinced you’re not human. how can flesh and blood be so ethereal? the marks he left on you earlier are angry. broken skin glowing under your sweat and the moonlight.

god, you just exist and minho is smitten. prepared to walk into the depths of hell if it meant a second alone with you.

“fuck, baby.” he groans, hands on your hips lifting you ever so slightly. the loss of contact makes your head snap back up, pouting at him with your plush lips. “need to feel you.”

you work quickly with his belt, letting it hit the gravel next to the bike’s tire. within seconds, his cock is out — beautifully curved and hard in your grasp.

there’s no time for prep, not when the voices of the friday night crowd are starting to filter outside. people ready to call it a night at almost midnight. pulling your panties to the side, you line your hole with the head of him, quickly sliding down despite the sting.

groaning in unison, minho grabs the nape of your neck. lips slam against yours, moving in a mess of heat and teeth and tongue. the taste of his whiskey fills your mouth, and god. god you feel far more intoxicated than you actually are thanks to him.

“that’s it.” he mumbles against your mouth, other hand quickly finding your ass. he pushes up the rest of your skirt, desperate to feel the plush of your ass against his palm. “fucking ride me like the slut you are.”

the slight degradation makes your head spin, bouncing quickly up and down on his cock. it fills you so wonderfully, head pushing against your sweet spot without much work. the night sky is dark, yet you’re seeing stars, right at the precipice of ecstasy.

“min.” you breathe into him, and he’s convinced this trashy bar parking lot is heaven. “min, i—“

letting go of your neck, his head falls between your legs. an expert on all things you, he finds your clit with ease, thumb brushing the bud in firm circles.

“let me feel it.” he encourages you, his cock twitching as his own edge approaches.

when you both cum, bodies melding into one, your screams are muffled by his lips. a sound that only he can hear, that only he can love. your hips slow, overstimulation raging up and down your spine. his kisses move to your jaw once you’ve quieted down, softly mumbling praises against it.

so consumed. so happy. so lost in each other than neither of you notice the footsteps that are growing in volume. headed straight towards the two of you.

this was shit sorry i wrote it at work



#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Pre-Air

Jojo, Ninew, Ninepinta and Vivienne have now presented their stable of hoes to us, y'all have chosen your fighters, and I am gnawing on concrete in anticipation of August 12. Since I'm gonna be doing weekly character rankings, I wanted to set up a pre-air Clown Checkpoint so I can look back later and see how wrong I was. Until that YouTube premiere countdown hits zero, we know exactly nothing, but I'm ready to predict whose gay wrongs I will most support! Here we go!

1. Nick

I just want you to love only me!

Audience ranking: 6

Ever since Mark Pakin showed up in that pilot trailer scheming and sex-taping, Nick has been MY DUDE. I want him to be the most manclown character of all time. I want him to be DESPERATE AND PATHETIC for Boston's dick. ANSWER EVERY BOOTY CALL NICK, I BELIEVE IN YOU. HE WANTS YOU TO DO A THREESOME? NO PROBLEM, WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE. I want Nick to call his bestie (Sand?) crying because Boston came over at 3:02 a.m. and left at 4:37 a.m. and 15 minutes of that was him taking a post-coital shower. I want crying and begging and clinging and devious acts. Khun Pakin has the chops to make my dreams come alive, make it happen boo!

2. Mew

My type is pretty simple. I'm not a picky kind of guy.

Audience ranking: 4

Right up until time of posting I thought my #2 seed would be Boston, but something is telling me that when it comes to manipulation and making grown men cry, Mew will emerge the champion. Something in this butter-wouldn't-melt expression is telling me this man is the true demon from hell whereas Boston is merely a top-tier-yet-still-garden-variety slut. Him shit-kicking Boston into the pool and then jumping in himself to finish the job is the kinda deranged shit I respect immensely. Kill them all Mew. You deserve.

3. Boston

You should be glad to be my favourite.

Audience ranking: 5

I may have called this man a garden variety slut, but I love a good slut though! Especially one who will lend his toys to help out a friend. And then almost instantly regret it. And then cause chaos and problems for himself as a result. And then make it everybody else's chaos and problems. Basically, I expect Boston's job to be throwing hole around Bangkok and ruining lives, and I expect him to do it WELL, and I expect him to do it in the sluttiest rent boy outfits I've ever seen.

4. Ray

You think my life will be better with you? It's only fucking going down to hell.

Audience ranking: 3

Speaking of chaos and problems, OUR BI DISASTER IS HERE GUYS! Bisexual? Bipolar? Why not both? The trailer is letting us know from jump that Ray is A Mess With Money and happy to use that money to buy himself some company, but also not able to keep those lines from getting blurred. I’m expecting this character to make me fall in love with him but also want to strangle him, Teh Krittikorn Saetun-style, so expect this ranking to go up until he is somehow my fave.

5. Sand

Friends don't charge friends. Besides, you should save your money for a shrink.

Audience ranking: 2

First Kanaphan’s job at GMMTV is to rip our hearts out roughly twice a year, and he’s right on schedule. It seems like Sand never learned not to fall for poor little rich boys, so we will all have to suffer with him. Honestly his ranking is this low right now because I see these guitars and microphones and I want no part of them. There is a short list of GMMTV boys allowed to sing at me and as much as I love First he is not on it. Ditch the microphone and bring back the baseball bat bb, I’m ready to see you bust some heads, kneecaps, car windows, whatever in pursuit of your love.

6. Top

When I take aim, I never miss.

Audience ranking: 7

Ah yes, the hoe-turned-seeming-housewife who’s actually still hoeing. The village bike. The community top. Boston basically turns him out and he’s not only fine with it, he falls for the john. Delicious. I desire his ruin like I’ve desired nothing before in media.

7. Everybody we don’t know nothing about yet (Yo, Nam/Syrup, Nes, Lesbian!Nonnie, A Wild Papang, various and assorted surprise guests I’m pretty sure we’re getting)

Friends don't do this to each other.

Audience ranking: 1 (combined score)

We await the tea on all the side characters, but the casting is superb, and I’m ready to see how high in the rankings they can climb.

LET THE MESS COMMENCE!

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends series #only friends #bl meta series

[vemuabhi]

Hello!! Do you mind doing Sanji with love language of quality time please? Have a lovely lovely day/night!!

(btw, I absolutely adore your blog, and I agree with so many things you’ve said about Sanji!!! Seriously I adore the way you think about Sanji <3 and actually, I’ve been holding this in since I first watched OP and I came across your post about your fav Sanji scenes, just never had the courage to tell you, not to mention I didn’t have tumblr account back then, but: I couldn’t have agreed more with you when you mentioned your feelings about Sanji and Pudding’s kiss. The only difference being that I knew I was already genuinely in love with him, so I felt it hit me quite strongly. And then I started making up all kinds of unrequited love angst scenarios in my head with him, where reader’s are unrequited. Though, I’m genuinely shocked by how similarly we think and simp for the man. I thought I was a crazy idiot until I saw your post. So thank you for sharing all your thoughts :))

Always a Priority

Hey love,

I am so so happy that you have read my favourite Sanji scenes work before and agree with that. I hope you have also read my fav Sanji outfits hehe. And yes, Sanji is someone who has captured my heat from a long while and I haven’t left him since. I am… a bit similar to Sanji when it comes to love. I adapt and make sure that my lover stays happy when they are with me. I… I haven’t been given a proper chance to make someone fall in love. It sucks that It’s always been me who falls in love fast, harder and deeper. So, maybe at some point I realised how Sanji would love his S/O and wondered how beautiful their life would be with him. He is Fictional. I know. I am aware of that. But, when real life just hurts continuously, I found a bit of relief in these fanfics. Getting way too personal here, aren’t I? Hehe, I hope you continue to read and enjoy my writings. Thanks for being here.

This is one of my pieces for the mini event. Please enjoy and let me know what you think about this. Please forgive any mistake, it isn't proofread.

Listen to Earned it by Weekend

Prompt taken from here.

Quality Time

After a long shift of work, you noticed him on his bike outside your work, waiting to pick you up. Even though he was tired, he was everyday waiting for you. As if it was a medicine, your fatigue was gone after seeing him.

As it has been only 3 months since you have been going out, so this was the only time of day you both could meet. Sure, you both went on dates on the weekends but, he wanted to see you everyday just like you did. You sat behind him and hugged him, that was the only thing he wanted from you. Just to feel you beside him. Comfortable. Is how he wanted to make you feel.

You were grateful for him being there to take you home. Especially during the times when you told him to go home as it was getting late. Which was more of the reason he stayed to drop you. The smooth ride with him was all you wanted. Valued. It was what you felt with Sanji.

Before you met Sanji, he would go straight home after a long shift to just crash for the day, sometimes dropping his female colleagues or friends. Too tired to even eat after the day. While you would also go home. Thinking about your life choices. The mistakes you made.

Now, it was different. You both had something to look forward to everyday. Meeting each other even though the time you meet was less, it was all you needed to boost up your oxytocin levels. Everyday, after he dropped you, you made sure that make him eat with you at your house. Then he could go and crash at his place. If you let him go, he would be too tired to make himself something and would not eat. Well, he wouldn’t say no to you, especially since all you wanted was to him to be healthy. Not only he dropped you, he would always eat if he was with you. Always a Priority. For each other.

While he ate with you, he would never look at his phone. Unless if it was urgent call. You were so shocked at how you were being treated by this man before you. Your house was small, but it never felt so warm, like a home until he arrived. You were desperate for love and now, he pulled you out of it. Providing you with the love you never received.

Sanji on the other hand felt his home to be where you were. 3 months. How was his life before he met you, he didn’t want to experience it again. Longing for someone to love him, like he does. He would love to move in with you but, it would be too soon.

You noticed that Sanji was far more patient than you were. He would think a lot. You don’t even know how many times you were impressed by how calm he behaves in the most hectic situations. While Sanji loved how you don’t filter your words with him. Always honest. Straight to point. No mind games. No need to worry, because you’d say what you felt. Making it very easy to understand you.

copyright © vemuabhi

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated!!

#one piece #my writing #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #black leg sanji #mini event