#it’s been getting worse but I think I’m seeing someone on Wednesday so maybe I can talk to them

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: in which a moment at a party that led to a drunken kiss and a heartfelt admission pushes you and your best friend away from each other. after nearly a week of silence, it’s still hard to find the right words to say to steve and to find the right way to mend what feels as if it has been permanently broken. until you’re drunk at a bar and he is the one to come and get you.

warnings: bestfriend!steve, explicit language, underage alcohol consumption, angst with a happy ending<33

author’s note: this was sitting in the drafts for a veryvery long time and i’ve finally decided to let it see the light of day🫶🏾 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bar was comforting in a weird kind of way. 

It was pretty dark and empty for the most part, which partly made sense since it was ten o’clock on a random Wednesday night. You didn’t mind the music softly playing and the stool you were sitting on actually felt comfortable, or maybe it was the alcohol making you believe that.

Somehow even with the number of drinks you’d had in the past hour, it still didn’t manage to effectively push your thoughts far away from Steve and what happened at Robin’s birthday party. 

You couldn’t not think about the kiss with him, which you had abruptly and drunkenly initiated; it was a kiss that felt simultaneously wrong and right. And his words that followed the kiss played on what felt like an endless loop in your mind too.

“I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted us, for practically forever. Ever since that moment our mom’s forced us to meet at that county fair thing when we were ten, I think I knew it was you.” 

It was hard to think about what you did in response to that, but still the quick, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” you managed to stutter out before basically running away from him played on equal loop in your head.  

The two of you hadn’t spoken since that Saturday night, with you returning back to your college that was two hours away from Hawkins early the next morning. And you were unsure if it was you leading this dance or if both of you were equally avoiding each other because the phone calls that would happen practically daily were reduced to nothing. It had barely been a week, but it was long enough for everything in your life to feel shifted; to feel a little emptier. 

“You look like you need to talk to someone,” The bartender, a woman who you were certain couldn’t be older than thirty, said as she slid you the latest drink you’d ordered. 

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You trailed off with a small sigh before taking a sip from the cold glass. “I did something stupid this past weekend and I regret it, but I also think it might have been the right thing to do.” You were unsure if you were referring to the kissing Steve part or the running away from him part. “I don’t know, I just wish that entire night hadn’t happened, actually.”

You knew that it wasn’t solely your inebriation that made your words seem as if they didn’t make any sense, because everything going through your head was so damn confusing even when you were completely sober. None of it, the emotions you were feeling or the situation itself, fully made sense to you and you forced yourself to not think about any of it by solely consuming yourself with your schoolwork for the last few days. And when doing that was no longer enough to silence your thoughts, you decided to come to this bar. 

It was dumb and probably only making things worse, you knew that, but it also felt so much easier. 

“Okay,” The woman said. “Can I have a lot more context?” 

You were unsure why you had the immediate urge to tell her everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps because it was just always so easy for anyone to pour their heart out to a stranger. 

“My friend— my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were ten— me and him were at a party. It was actually our other friend’s birthday and she just turned eighteen, so of course, we had to make it a huge thing for her, and we did it at Steve’s house; my best friend, that’s his name. Anyway, it’s about two hours into the party and we’re all pretty drunk. Me and Steve are in his backyard sitting on one of his old patio chairs, and then I don’t know why, I blame it on my drunkenness and how close we were in that moment, but I kissed him. I pulled away almost immediately, but then he said that he has wanted this, wanted us, to happen for so long, and I didn’t know what to say to any of that. So, I just mumbled out a stupid “I’m sorry,” and then left.”

You had barely taken a breath as you spoke, spitting out what happened that night in one rushed go. Finally saying all of it out loud— recounting the story in pretty much its entirety— made you feel a little better. Everything was still a complete mess, but you felt like you could breathe the tiniest bit easier. 

“Why did you leave?” 

A part of you expected her to ask that question, and at this point, you should’ve had an answer to it that felt certain, but you didn’t. 

“It just… It felt like the right thing to do, I think.” 

The thought of anything more happening with Steve hadn’t ever crossed your mind, at least not consciously, and even now you still refused to think more about it. Because it wasn't just about Steve. You didn’t want anything more with anyone; you didn’t want feelings, a relationship, any of it. 

It wasn’t that you hated love or the thought of it, it was more so that you had been burned because of it so many times that you refused to fall into it so easily again. Falling for boys that you thought actually liked you only to be proven wrong and left heartbroken. 

“I get it,” The bartender ultimately said, her voice soft. “You guys have been friends for practically forever and if you started dating and then broke up it would probably change everything between you two.” 

We would never break up. 

The thought hit you so abruptly that it actually managed to surprise you.  

The woman looked at you, confused. “Okay… So, then what’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You said that you and him would never break up, so what’s the problem?” 

You hadn’t realized you said the thought out loud, and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about accidentally saying it because all you could think about was how completely true it was. You and Steve would work so well together, you pretty much already did. You knew the ins and outs of each other; everything little that was annoying but also so endearing. It was what you loved about him— as a friend and as more.  

But still, it was so fucking hard to admit that out loud, and you wanted to forget about the entire realization.

“I– I don’t know,” You finally answered before folding your arms against the countertop and then putting your head down. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that that action would be enough to will away the tears that you could now feel threatening to spill out. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and i ended up here. pouring out my heart to a stranger.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, you okay?” 

The voice was soft and immediately comforting and oh so familiar. It was enough to put a smile on your face, but your head was starting to pound so you couldn’t bear to do anything but groan.  

You lifted your head and mumbled out a soft, “Steve?”

You only vaguely remembered the bartender, whose name you eventually learned was Chelsea, asking for a phone number of someone that could pick you up. And although you should’ve given her your roommate’s number, you instead gave her Steve’s. 

“I never thought I’d be the one picking you up from a bar,” Steve said as he sat down next to you. “I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“Y’know what they say about college, it changes people,” You told him with a nonchalant shrug. The two of you hadn’t talked in days, but it still felt like second nature to fall back into the joking cadence you had with him. “I’m a total badass now.”

Steve laughed a bit and looked at you amusingly. “Mhm, yeah, sure you are.”

You weren’t as drunk anymore but you were entering the early stages of a hangover that would be a bitch, and you already knew that there was no way you’d be going to your eleven o’clock Statistics class. 

“I can’t believe you drove two hours to pick me up,” You said as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car after you paid your pricey tab and goodbyes were said to Chelsea.  

Steve offered you a small smile. “What else are best friends for?”

You couldn’t help but look away from him as you mumbled out a soft, “I didn’t know we were still that.”

“We’ll always be that.” 

There was so much certainty in his voice that it actually managed to soothe something inside of you. Only for a second, though, because then you were back in your head again. 

The drive back to your dorm was quiet with only the soft sounds of the radio to fill the silence. It was a short ride, only about ten minutes, and the entire time you could only focus on your dull headache and what you wanted to say to Steve because you knew that you had to say something. Although you didn’t want to, that night needed to finally be talked about.

When he was parked in front of your building, you still didn’t know exactly what to say, but you decided to start with something. “Listen, about Robin’s party–” 

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just pretend it never happened,” Steve interrupted you. He pushed a hand through his hair and then met your gaze. “It was really dumb of me to say all of that stuff, and I partially blame it on all the drinks we had— definitely way too many. We’re just friends, I know that. And your life is here now, for the most part, and mine is back in Hawkins, so yeah…” He trailed off with a small shrug. 

You suddenly felt nauseous and you knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He was saying everything that you fully thought you wanted to hear— what happened at the party should’ve never happened, you two were just friends— so why did it feel so wrong? 

Things became quiet and Steve was looking at you expectantly, and you were unsure how long you’d been silent for. 

“Um, yeah, exactly,” You finally said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Before you opened the passenger door to leave his car, you reached over and pulled Steve in for a hug. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He said as his arms circled around you. 

For some reason, there was a huge part of you that wanted to say “I’m sorry” in that moment, but you didn’t entirely know why, so instead you said nothing and simply got out of his car.

You headed to the entrance of your dorm building and then turned around, giving Steve a final wave before he drove away. 

It was then— as he headed down the street and after a few moments his car became completely out of your view— that you wished you’d been honest; with yourself and with him.  

Because it was in that moment of you yearning for him to turn around mixed with you sincerely wanting to go after him that essentially sealed it for you. 

Steve was different and he always would be. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt slightly lucky that you only had two classes on Thursdays because when you woke up after sleeping through your Statistics class, you knew that you wouldn’t be going to your Psychology class that started at three. And the reasoning actually had nothing to do with your hangover. 

Aside from the slight headache, you woke up with your mind feeling completely clear for the first time in a long time. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you wanted to do, and before that feeling could go away, or you could convince yourself to push it away, you were in your car an hour before your class was supposed to start and driving to Hawkins. You were pretty much running off of impulse and hope.

The weather was terrible and you hated driving in the rain, but it didn’t matter to you right then because you needed to see Steve.

You had two long hours of driving in terrible rain to figure out what exactly you wanted to say to him, yet you still couldn’t form a coherent set of sentences in your head. But, similar to the rain, that didn’t stop you from ringing his doorbell. 

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smart to bring an umbrella because it was still pouring and from the short walk from your car to his front door, your clothes managed to become effectively soaked, but it didn’t bother you. 

“Hey,” He said when he opened the door, it was easy to tell that he was surprised to see you. “Did you drive all the way here?”

You quickly nodded at his question. “Yes.”

“You hate driving in rain.” 

“Yeah, but I… I just really wanted to talk to you, and didn’t wanna do it over the phone.”

“Come inside,” Steve said, pushing the door open wider so that you could step in. 

You almost followed him but then stopped. “No, wait… I kinda just wanna say this here.” 

Steve looked at you confused, but ultimately nodded. “Okay.” He then stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him; his clothes immediately got wet. “It feels wrong that you’re the only one getting hit by the rain.” 

You laughed a bit. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.”  

Things got quiet for a second and you suddenly felt nervous, but you pushed that feeling to the side.

“I know you said that we don’t need to talk about the party and we should pretend that it never happened. And although that’s exactly what I’d been doing for the past few days, I don’t wanna do that anymore.” It actually didn’t feel too hard to let all of this out; verbalizing exactly what had been going on in your head. In a way, it felt like a relief. “I think I kissed you that night because deep down I know that it’s you too. And that it’s always been you… Which is actually so scary to think about because we’ve known each other for so long and you’re the one person in my life that has been the biggest constant. You’ve seen every part of my very horrific love life and I don’t want us to end up like any of the stupid relationships I had before, and I think that’s why I ran away that night, which I do really regret.” You pulled your eyes away from his for a second. “But, what we have is different, and I want to try. I want us to try.”

You let out a long breath. “Okay, that’s it.”  

Steve didn’t say anything for a few moments, and it was then that you realized how loud the rain was, and somehow it was actually a bit calming to hear the sounds of the heavy drops hitting the ground. 

You searched his eyes to see if you could decipher what he was thinking, but before you could get a clear read on anything, he was closing the small bit of distance between you both and reaching up to cup your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you. 

The abruptness of the action slightly startled you, but you were completely okay with this nonverbal response to you pouring your heart out. You were kissing him back almost immediately and suddenly the sound of the rain was gone and instead all you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The kiss felt perfectly new but also so insanely familiar; even though this was the first time this was happening sober. And so many things were running through your mind, but it was also effectively blank and you knew you wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried. 

Most of all, though, everything happening right then— the way your hands fisted themselves in his rain soaked t-shirt to pull him impossibly closer to you, and how his thumb stroked your cheek so tenderly— it all felt so certain and sure and right; there wasn’t an ounce of doubt lingering in the air around you both or lacing its way within the kiss. 

When you pulled away to catch your breath and smiled up at him, a smile that Steve immediately matched with an elated grin of his own, it slightly killed you that all of this hadn't happened sooner.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington

[herlondonboy]

Beauty And The Beast

Pairings: Tyler Galpin x gn!reader / Wednesday Addams x twin!reader

Summary: Tyler helps you realise that you really don’t deserve to love.

Warnings: angst kind, manipulation. I write this whilst I was supposed to be tidying my room.

Word Count: 1.0k

You never believed that you deserved the love your parents got; the love you see in movies or love at all. You weren’t as smart or as cunning as Wednesday and you weren’t as funny or kind as Pugsley. You found yourself wanting to be your siblings. You wanted the the relationship that they had. You wanted Wednesday to protect you from bullies in a bittersweet manner, you wanted Pugsley to talk to you, period.

You didn’t know what happened or what went wrong, but Morticia and Gomez somehow ended up with you as a child. Maybe you were switched with someone else in the hospital because you didn’t feel like an Addams. You felt like an outcast in your own family. You liked colour, you weren’t abnormally pale, your touch was warm. You were you and that was enough for your family, so why wasn’t it enough for you?

When your sister was sent to Nevermore, and your parents decided it was best for you to tag along, you almost began to despise them. It only got worse when you found out you had a single room, closed off from the rest of the school. It was like you were being punished for no reason.

You were exiled by the world’s outlaws.

It didn’t take long for you to realise that you weren’t welcome there. You started taking long walks down to Jericho after your last period just to sit in the back booth of the Weathervane and write down all of the reasons you didn’t deserve to be an Addams. The book was nearly halfway full.

But one uneventful Thursday, a barista, the youngest one that you had seen working in here, walked over to you. “May I sit?” He asked, a kind smile on his face. You nodded hesitantly as he sat. God, how you wished you could turn back time and tell him no. “My name’s Tyler.”

“Hello, Tyler.” You smiled at him, looking down. You felt like if you looked any longer you’d drown in his eyes. “Uhm, y/n.” You held out your hand.

“Oh, I know.” Tyler said, shaking it. “I’m not stalking you, I just… we have to put names on the cups, remember?” He said at your raised eyebrow. You chuckled slightly and he cleared his throat. “I know that we don’t know each other, but i was hoping that we could get to know each other.”

“I didn’t think it was so easy to make me cringe.” You joked, smiling at his blush. “I’d love to get to know you, Tyler.”

“Oh! Great, uh, great, yeah.” He stammered. It was as if he was expecting a swift ‘no.’ “Uhm, here. My number.” He handed you a piece of paper. “Call me. O-or text me, whatever you prefer. Uh, bye.”

From then on, your alone time at the Weathervane became your Tyler Time. Your notebook hadn’t been touched in weeks and there was a predominant smile etched onto your face. For the first time, you actually felt like you deserved to be loved. Tyler saw what no one else did. Tyler saw you. Not y/n Addams - not Wednesday Addams’ abnormal twin. You.

Tyler had asked you to be his date for the Rave’N and you said yes. It was a great nice. Excluding how the normies put red paint in the sprinklers and drenched everyone in a blood-like substance; how Tyler ran away towards the end; and how Wednesday’s friend was attacked by the monster she was hunting.

The first, and last, time you kissed Tyler, something happened. You blacked out and then suddenly you were watching Tyler turn into a beast and murder Kinbott, your therapist. And then you watched him attack Eugene Otinger. And then you watched him talking to someone about how you would help him get insider information on Wednesday. It was awful, like everything you had gone through to allow yourself to love was wasted. You gasped awake in Tyler’s arms as he looked into your eyes, concern written all over his face and you wondered. Was any of it ever real?

“I’m okay.” You mumbled. “I just- I need to go.” You rushed out of the Weathervane. Tyler watched until you were out of his view. You sobbed all the way to Nevermore, hugging yourself as you made your way to your sister’s room.

Wednesday looked almost alarmed when she saw the state you were in. “y/n?” She asked and her voice made you break down.

“It’s Tyler.” You said, standing awkwardly in front of her. You’d kill for a hug right now, but this is Wednesday that you’re talking about. “I kissed him and had this vision thing and saw him attacking Eugene Otinger and I-“ You choked on your words, finding it so hard to breathe. “I thought he really liked me too. I thought… I thought that I deserved love, but it’s all my fault.”

“y/n, nothing is your fault.” Wednesday said softly.

You shook your head. “It is. I told him things about you, us, the school, because I thought I could trust him.” You clenched your eyes shut, sadness dissipating into anger. “I’m so stupid. Of course he didn’t love me. Stupid, stupid.” You began hitting your head in frustration.

“y/n, stop.” Wednesday said, but you didn’t. She grabbed your hands and pulled you into a hug.

You cried into her shoulder. “I want to go home, Wednesday. Home was bad, but it was so much better than this.” You told her. “I loved him and he-"

“y/n, Tyler manipulated you and conditioned you into thinking about him like that. He used you to get to me. You are not at fault here. You let yourself believe that you can be loved, y/n. That’s good. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here for you.”

It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. You could love again if you let yourself, but would you?

#tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #Tyler Galpin x you #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler x reader #Tyler x you #Tyler x y/n #Tyler Galpin x wednesday Addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #Wednesday #wednesday fanfic #tyler Galpin fanfic #team tyler #team Xavier #elijah writes

[stirthewaters]

A little drabble for my lovelies while I’m writing. This has been stuck in my drafts for like a year and a half and I lost motivation so go nuts. This could possibly be a TSTT au?

Sleep

Word count: maybe 500 idk

Warnings: uhhh sickies

Pairing: Wednesday x Reader

You're sick. Not just your average run-of-the-mill, common cold sick either. You're sick. You have a high fever, and the worst chills you've ever experienced in your life. Luckily for you, you have someone to take care of you. And it's the person everyone would least expect.

Wednesday Addams; your girlfriend, had 'begrudgingly' agreed to take care of you, but you knew otherwise. You could tell from the way that she would sit by your bedside for hours at night, watching you to make sure you actually slept, that she did in fact care, despite her claims. Her twist on this was this; you were her partner. She needed you to get better simply because not only did Enid miss your sickening presence in their shared dorm, but you were missing classes, as well as having the worst self-care she'd ever seen. Wednesday repeatedly told herself this; not that it was because just the sight of you sitting in bed looking pale and helpless made her dark heart twist. Sure, she was your girlfriend, but the need to take care of you and make you better makes her miserable. So it wasn't too bad.

Most of the time she didn't need to be there; you took your pills when needed, drank plenty of water, and got rest. You should've been fine. What she didn't expect was for your fever to somehow get worse.

The fact that you had a lack of self-care already made her want to snap at you, to make you admit to yourself that you needed to get better. That you needed to take some responsibility. That you mattered.

But for the most part, she just told you to take your pills, rest, and eat the soup that she would bring occasionally. It wasn't too bad, since most of the time you were reasonable and compliant.

But tonight, Wednesday simply could not tolerate you.

You woke from fever, grimacing and head swimming; deliria was the most common symptom these nights. You take a minute to drink in your surroundings. You had been moved to Wednesday's dorm a couple of nights ago; she had claimed that it was because you couldn't be trusted alone, but you knew otherwise.

Your vision was screwed up too; all peripheral vision was out the window, and dots flashed in your vision every time you moved.

Had you been thinking normally, you would've gone back to sleep.

But with a 103 degree fever, and delirium sinking faster than the Titanic, you only have one thought. One need. Water. You turn to the nightstand, but only a small bottle of Tylenol sits there. And no water? Grimacing with frustration and pain, you slowly peel back the hot covers, letting out a faint sigh of relief at the coolness that encompassed your flushed skin. You were wearing...Wednesday's pajamas? The material was surprisingly soft, and black. Typical. You looked around for Wednesday, assuming she'd be in the room, but she was nowhere to be found. Enid isn't present either. Odd.

You slowly push your way out of the bed, body shaking from being too hot and cold all at once. Your nerves feel alive. Tumbling as soon as your legs try to hold your weight, you let out a startled and hoarse cry, cursing softly as you find yourself face down on the floorboards.

You push yourself upwards, groaning with pain and dizziness to find yourself face to face with Wednesday, looking at you with her typical deadpan that is laced slightly with annoyance. "In bed. Now." Normally you'd oblige to this request; you've known not to get on Wednesday's bad side. But the delirium is refusing to allow you to see common knowledge, and you sit there on the dorm floor, frowning slightly as if trying to remember who she is. "What?"

Sighing with frustration, Wednesday grabs your wrist, hauling you onto your feet. Shaking, you find yourself leaning on her so much that she almost stumbles, but she regains her footing quickly and pinches her eyebrows together. "Y/N." Turning your head to look at her, you shake your head slightly, pulling away from her, though her grip is too tight. Not painful, just tight. As if to ground you. "I have to...I need the um..." You're stammering now; you needed something. What was it again? That's why you had woken up, wasn't it? Looking mildly upset, you try to pull back again, but she simply sighs, as if this has happened before (which it most certainly has), and pushes you gently back onto her bed, though there is a bit of annoyance to the action. "Go back to sleep, now.”

You let out a delirious groan, not budging as you once more tried to leave the bed, only to be met with yet another refusal.

“Your fever is what’s affecting your common sense right now, you need to rest.” Wednesdays voice was tinged with irritation now as she placed a cold hand on your chest, making you flinch as she pushed you down into the covers. “I shall have no other choice than to watch you like a petulant child if you cannot refrain from disobedience.”

Your eyes were glazed, she could tell that there was simply nothing going on behind them. She couldn’t blame you; you were making it hard for yourself to heal and that was the issue at hand.

The Addams took a seat on her chair, watching you lay limply in her bed. If any good came out of this it would be the opportunity to scold you, which you absolutely deserved.

Her eyes never left you the whole night.

(Requests are open now, go shoot me some requests and I’ll crank them out. ✊)

[thisismeracing]

Die from a broken heart | MS47 (patreon preview)

coming to Tumblr on Wednesday, the 13th!

▸Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader ▸Warnings: mentions of food and secret relationship; angst with a happy ending.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

PREVIEW:

“He’s just a friend!” Yn finally snaps, voice getting louder and thicker in frustration. 

Mick, who’s at the other side of the room, arms crossed, and face twisted in a frown, scoffs at her words just like he’s been doing the past few minutes they have been fighting.

“Yeah, but at this point, so am I to everyone who knows us,” his remark makes her heart clench. 

She loved him, she was sure of that even though they had been together for less than a couple of months. They had known each other for over a year. They were friends before becoming lovers. So his harsh words and his lack of demonstrating hurt hit her differently. 

Fighting with someone who won’t match your screams can be slightly worse than fighting with someone who will. Mick had his voice even the whole time, lips pursed, eyes hard. His cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and his stance wide, but other than that, he did not cave, did not scream, or point a finger at her. 

“And what do you want me to do Mick? You wanted me to make out with you in front of everyone so they could record and we could wake up being the news headlines tomorrow morning? You more than anyone know how the media can be pushy, how they can break beautiful things.” 

“Guess sometimes you don’t need them to break it, those beautiful things will break themselves,” he retorted, walking past her and to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Yn asked, tears gathering in her eyes. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter to you.” 

And just like that, he gave his back to her.

Her sweet, loving, patient boyfriend turned around and stormed off the room as if he was done. As if their relationship was done for.

*****************

“Did you get into the sim earlier than scheduled?” Toto asked when Mick entered the garage, big bags under his eyes and no sign of his trademark sweet smile. 

The Schumacher shook his head, “Nah, just couldn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Did something happen?” 

“Love happened,” he mumbles, walking to one of the rooms to drop his things there, not before grumbling on the way about how hard relationships were.

Susie who was beside Toto shared a knowing look. The arched brows and darting eyes silently get to the same conclusion. 

“Do you really think…?” Toto finally voices and his wife shrugs, biting her lips.

“Maybe. They’re good friends…maybe they’ve been more and we failed to see it.” 

Toto sighs, moving the headphones that are on the desk.

“Please, don’t smash it,” she jokes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“She’s our baby.”

“She’s twenty-three, Liebe.” 

“Ja, but still…” 

“If you asked me to choose someone in the Paddock, it would be Mick. You’ve been working with him for a while now, we both know he’s a good guy.”

“That’s the problem!” He points and Susie arches her brows in confusion, “I’m supposed to hate my baby’s boyfriend, or give him a hard time, but I actually like that blond Ken doll, ugh.” 

Susie burst into laughter, and Toto can’t help but let the smallest grin grace his features.

“She’s everything,” 

“He’s not just Ken, and you know it, Torger.”

“Well, to me he’s just Ken. She’s my everything, and he’s just Ken.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this lil preview! This piece will come out free here tomorrow night! Make sure to let me know your thoughts and suggestions. <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my Coffee emoji anon here) for proofreading this (Ily, C!).

read this piece on the early access tier HERE.

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#op: patreon preview #op: early access #ms47 #millie writes #wolff!reader #mick schumacher x wolff!reader #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #mick schumacher

[brooooswriting]

Hello there ! I was wondering if I could request Wednesday & insecure!female!reader?

Like one day she just ask Wednesday why she couldn’t look as pretty as the other girls, why her hair wasn’t perfect every day, why she couldn’t be genuinely happy all the time and if Wednesday ever thought about it too?

Just some fluff and hurt/comfort❤️❤️

I hope you like this:)

All the pretty girls

Why do our brains always trick us into believing that we’re not enough? That was a question you often asked yourself, and the question why you actually weren’t enough. You haven’t felt like you’re enough since you could think and honestly, until Wednesday came along, nobody every gave you the feeling that you were.

You had a sister she’s has always been the beauty and the smart one while you were, well, what were you? The name ‘almost’ seems pretty fitting, you were almost as beautiful as your sister, you were almost able to go get the same grades as her and you were almost not fucked up. Since you could think your family told you stuff like “you aren’t that stupid” and “you know, your sister is so beautiful but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t. You’re just… different”.

These were things that “probably caused you to have body dysmorphia”, so principal Weems who often talked to you about your problems. You didn’t really talk about them with anyone else, Wednesday was uncomfortable when talking about emotions which is why you decided to leave her out of it. She already had to deal with someone like you as a girlfriend.

Your insecurities and dysmorphia had their up and downs, there were days where you almost seemed normal but then there were days where you could barely Stop crying when you saw yourself and you just couldn’t stop comparing yourself to others.

Just like today, your day already started terrible when you looked into the mirror to see four new pimples in your already ugly face and your hair didn’t want to be tamed today. And it got way worse when you saw Wednesday at Bianca with love in her eyes.

This was nothing against Bianca in general, it was more against how she looked and how smart she was. How could she be so awesome while you were just you? It didn’t seem fair to you, you fairly tried everything to get prettier but here you were still ugly. It all sucked and you were nearly having an attack.

You barely made it through your last two classes without a break down, but you did it now sitting on Wednesday’s bed while she pursued her writing hour. It wasn’t uncommon for you to sit there in silence while she wrote but right now you just wanted comfort. Unable to just lay still you decided to busy yourself with your phone, instagram to be exact.

And this was your downfall, you saw so many pretty girls that your mind went into a spiral. “Why do you like me?” You suddenly asked Wednesday pulling your knees up to your chest. “What?” The girl turned around her facing showing small signs of confusion. Sure, sometimes you were pretty random but this was new.

“Why do you like me huh? Why don’t you like Bianca or Yoko?! Or maybe you do like them and I’m just a toy for you to play with! Is that what I am? Just a thing to do when you’re bored? An experiment?!” By now you knew that you were talking bullshit but your mind made you believe it. You angrily stood up walking in front of the mirror, tears filling your eyes.

Wednesday hesitated for a second looking at Thing before standing up and walking behind you. She didn’t hug you, she just stood close to you looking into your eyes through the mirror.

“Be honest, you also think about it right?” You whispered looking down to avoid even more tears. “Think about what?” The Addams girl asked, her body tightly pressing against yours. “About why I’m so different to the other girls. Why isn’t my hair always perfect? And why I’m so ugly and why can’t I always be happy like the others? You thought about it too right?” You were rambling and it started to hurt wednesdays head. Not the rambling on it’s own, she was used to that from you and Enid, but the way you talked about yourself made her mad.

The dark girl always hated physical contact but in this moment she wanted nothing more than to hold you and keep you safe so she did. Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind and she pulled you into her even more. “The only things I ever thought about were why you’re so beautiful and how I can make you realize that” she whispered into your ear her voice softer than ever.

The older Addams sibling moved the two of you to her bed laying down cuddling. “Look cara Mia, I’ve noticed this behavior in you rather often and I also believe that you have body dysmorphia. You’re beautiful, your hair looks perfect daily and you’re the best thing that has happened to me and you talking about yourself like this is torture. And not the good kind” she comforted you, gently kissing your lips.

It was clear that she was a bit uncomfortable and stiff but she would do anything for you. “I’m sorry that I interrupted your writing time” you mumbled into her neck. “That’s alright, but do you think you could tell me what happened?” Her voice was back to her stoic one but you knew she cared nonetheless.

“I’ve never been good enough for anyone, my family always compared me to my oh so wonderful sister, and all her friends. I’ve never gotten a ‘you did good’ or ‘you’re enough’ while she was always so perfect. It hurt and Weems said it probably left scars on my self esteem. Today… today when you were talking to Bianca you seemed so intrigued into her beauty and it made me self conscious” you explained playing with her fingers, a habit when you were nervous.

“Cara Mia, we talked about you, that’s why I was so intrigued” she whispered caressing your back carefully. Your lips were pressed together in some soft pecks. “Thank you, my dark cloud” you mumbled before falling asleep.

The moment when Wednesday saw that you fell asleep she kissed your forehead promising to never let you feel like an ‘almost’ again.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #wednsday addams #wednesday

[igotanidea]

Consolation: Enid Sinclair x f!reader

request: I’d like to request something with Enid x fem!reader where Enid’s s/o comforts her after parents week and everything that happens with her mother.

„So, your father bailed on you this year as well?”

Xavier raised eyes on me and his pouted lips and annoyed expression were enough for an answer.

“You know, I don’t even care anymore” he shrugged, not having a care in the world.

“Mhm, right. Sure.” I leaned on the wall next to him watching everything that was happening in the quad during the first parents-students meeting this semester.

“Looks like your family abandoned you as well….” Xavier started.

“Well, you know, banshees are not exactly known as the familiar ones. It’s enough emotions for us to sense death around…..” I muttered, busy looking for a familiar face in the crowd of people downstairs. “Do you think she’s alright?”

“Who?” Xavier followed my gaze “Oh. Enid. I don’t know. She’s another one to have complicated family relationship, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea” I sighed deeply “I’m worried about her, you know. She looks…. sad. So much different from the happy, bursting joy of sunshine she is every day.”

“It’s just one weekend, I bet she’s…..”

“You know, maybe I’m being delusional as on only child, but I always thought having a lot of siblings means that you have someone to talk to or fight against or get into trouble together….”

“That might as well make us brother and sister.” Xavier smirked, but I barely heard his words, being too much inside my head.

“….and just look at them.  She’s all alone while her brothers play together. And her mother? Ugh. She’s just pushing her so hard. It’s so unfair! It’s not her fault she did not wolf out, yet!”

“Ok, Y/N, you might want to calm down…..” Thorpe put a hand on my shoulder and that made me realize I was squeezing the stones so hard my hands started to bleed. “Take it easy. You know you can always step in and become her knight in shining armor saving her from the literal claws of her relatives, right?”

“What? Oh hell, no! I love her, but her mother scares the shit out of me. I can sense a lot of negativity coming from her. Definitely a lot more than she’s showing.”

“Whatever you say. I guess we are cursed with each other this weekend than.”

“Could have been worse, I guess” I shoved him playfully, but my worries and fears about my wolf girlfriend were still there.  

***

“Y/N” I turned around facing forward but there was no one in front of me. Luckily, quick enough I realized the voice was coming from below and lowered my gaze only to spot Wednesday Addams glaring at me.

“Hello Wednesday.” I smirked “it is a wonderful day, isn’t it?” I tried my best to get any reaction from her, but her face did not change in the slightest so I dropped the act. “what do you want?”

“There’s nothing you could do to be useful to me.” She said flatly “Enid, however…..”

“Did something happen to her?” ok, now I was concerned. Just the mention of her name I was ready to jump into fire. Given my girl’s character that wasn’t so unlikely.

“Apart from that catastrophe of parents visit? Nothing. It is truly, a beautiful tragedy.”

“Where is she? Wednesday!” I wanted to wake her up from her own dark, gloomy fantasies about horrors and fears, but Addams was too intimidating to shake her. And maybe I was a little scared she would kill me at the spot if I were to do that.

“Dorm. Obviously. She got into one of her emotional state. Refuse to go out and see anyone, though I can’t comprehend why. I was always the one to stand out from my family and yet it never drew any emotions out of me.” I did not even listen to her blabbering as I took off running towards the Ophelia Hall. “Interesting,” Wednesday muttered to herself “and absolutely unnecessary.”

***

The wooden floor creaked the second I took a first step and the sound startled Enid, who ironically was a bit jumpy for a werewolf.  She abruptly turned towards the door, her cheeks puffy, eyes bleary from the tears falling down freely and that view broke my heart in a million pieces. My wonderful girl, my lovely golden-labrador, purely-hearted, perfect, innocent, sensitive girlfriend. Someone hurt her. Someone being most probably her mother. I felt endless rage just because of watching her broken figure, her hopeless expression and at the moment I was ready to burn the whole world down and watch it go down in flames just to make her feel better. For those who doesn’t know, banshees scream are indications of death, and I sensed one coming from the back of my throat, but her crouched, small figure made me stop. She looked so fragile and broken, sobbing desperately, trying her best to calm down and failing spectacularly.

“Y/N” she managed to pant, wiping her tears, and I rushed to her side, my hands circling around her at once.

“I’m here, Enid. I’m here. It’s ok, love” I shuddered when she hid her face in the crook of my neck.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She muttered

“Why?”

“Cause I’m always happy and …. And I though…..”

“Hey. Stop it. Look at me.” She raised her blurry eyes and locked them with mine “There’s nothing, nothing you can do to make me look at you differently. All right? Tears or smiles or throwing daggers…. I love you all the same in each of the moods, ok? You don’t have to hide. And certainly, I don’t need Wednesday Addams to inform me of your stare” I muttered holding her tighter.

“She came to you?”

“Yes. And I did not like that.”

“I told you she cares. In her own way, but she does.”

“Right.” I muttered. I was not going to admit to Enid I was simply jealous. At least not at the moment, since it was not the time nor the place, but maybe, maybe in the future we will have a conversation about this. “What happened? I mean, I know the effect your family has on you but this is a whole new level of sadness. Even for you.” I cupped her cheek “Come on, sunshine, let it out.”

“she wants to send me to lycanthrope conversion therapy!” she dropped the hammer and started crying again.

“Oh, my love” I circled her arms and pulled her closer not believing what I just heard. No words could ever express how I felt at that moment. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. “

“You don’t?” she asked weakly and hiccupped which made her let out a laugh.

“Oh, there is that little smile I love” I pressed a small kiss the corner of her lips “of course I’m not. Wait, did you think differently?” even the thought of her believing I would not fight for her made me appalled.

“I…. I…. was too worried to think.” She confessed finally “you know, it’s just painful seeing your family not accepting you.”

“Can’t say I have such an experience, but I know how it feels to be alone. “ once again, banshees are not family creatures. “but you know what, you have family here, at Nevermore. You have me, Ajax, Xavier and as much as I hate to admit it, Wednesday.”

“She’s one of a kind, isn’t she?”

I rolled my eyes. I did not want to talk about the dark haired girl.

“Look, Enid. We all love you. I love you. More than anything. You could you have  fangs , scales or feathers for  what I care. You could even be a normie and that wouldn’t make me love you less.   None of this matters to me. You are kind, unlike your mother apparently” I hissed and she scoffed me for that but smiled a bit, “helpful, selfless and smart. Brave and full of life, ready to explore it to the fullest. I love your pink hair” I touched the left side of her head “and your blue hair” then the right one “I love your eyes and your claws” I grabbed her hands in mine, rubbing thumb over her soft skin. “But what I love most is your smile, even when it’s not on your face.” I caressed her cheek “just a memory of it makes it all better for me” I rested my forehead on hers, like I was trying to convey all my emotions to her and she definitely got the message leaning in and kissing my cheek softly.

“Thank you” she whispered “you are my strength, you know?”

“Maybe, but sometimes I wonder how you put up with my murderous attitude.”

“I love your murderous attitude.” She grinned “I think I’m feeling better now. “

“Does that mean you are going to stand up to your mother?”

“Well, if staying here with you is at stake than I definitely  will” she laughed “can’t leave you alone in case you were trying to murder the whole school, right?”

Oh, how I loved having that little rainbow in my life.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #netflix wednesday #wednesday x reader #nevermore #nevermore academy #wednesday series #wednesday fandom #xavier thorpe fluff #enid sinclair #enid sinclair x reader #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair x y/n #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair fluff #enid x you #enid x reader #enid x y/n #enid sinclair x fem reader

[aceofsages]

Prompt: Jealous Wednesday

written for @hotmesslovesickcrackhead : I'm sure this wasn't what you had in mind when you gave me this prompt, lol, but this is where my mind went

find on ao3

cw: angst, ambiguous ending, fantasizing of torture, references to cannibalism

____

Something festers inside Wednesday—a gaping chasm of roiling emotions that Wednesday, for all means and purposes, should like, but doesn’t. Something green that makes her breath fast, her hands twitch, and it seems to happen every time she sees Enid with Ajax. A rage overcomes her, a boiling wrath, and Wednesday often fears that if she had less control than she does, she would behead all of Ajax’s snakes and feed them to him.

But doing so would mean losing Enid worse than she ever had her.

“Someone’s jealous,” says Barclay as she takes her seat next to Wednesday on the quad fountain.

Wednesday takes her eyes off of where Enid sits on that insipid boy’s lap, giggling with Yoko and Divina, to glare at her. The siren just smirks infuriatingly, lazily weaving water between her fingers.

“Just saying, I know that look. Hell, I used to wear it when you spent time with Xavier.”

Wednesday doesn’t do something as mundane as roll her eyes, but it’s a near thing. “That was your own insecurity, Barclay. There was nothing going on between Xavier and I.”

“Maybe,” she says, shrugging. “But there is something going on between Ajax and Enid.”

Wednesday’s hands clench without her consent and Barclay raises a brow. “Oh, you’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up Barclay.”

The thing is, Barclay still had a right to be jealous, however irrational. But Wednesday doesn’t, because there was never anything between her and Enid, there will never be anything, because Enid deserves everything Wednesday can’t give her. She deserves colorful dates and soft kisses, hand holding and public displays of affection. She deserves to be cherished, but with Wednesday she will only have cuts disguised as caresses.

None of this reasoning soothes what she now knows is jealousy.

It gets worse. It gets to a point where Wednesday can’t be trusted to stay in the same room as Enid when she’s with Ajax, can’t be trusted not to gaze at her and wish to break Ajax’s arms and put hers around her instead, can’t be trusted to even open her mouth without spewing something that would undoubtedly be vicious and cutting and absolutely nothing that Enid deserves. The feeling makes Wednesday breathless, makes her worse than she thought she could be and the worse part is she knows she needs to mitigate it before it gets out of her control.

(Addamses love only once, and they love fierce, unyielding. A person can break themselves against its tide, and drown the object of their affections too, and Wednesday will kill herself before she lets that happen to Enid.)

“What is this? I knew you and Bianca were getting close, but not changing your room close!”

“We’re not.”

“Then why?!” Enid steps towards her, crossing the line that Wednesday’s viscerally aware remains no more.

There is no rational why, Wednesday thinks, only you who I can’t have. Only you who I can’t hurt just because I’m jealous.

She’s aware of how much her recent behavior has been hurting Enid—thinks that a clean break is what they need from each other before Wednesday snaps and strips the hide from Ajax’s snakes and proceeds to skin him while electrocuting him. She’d leave Nevermore altogether, but that would mean admitting to her parents, to her Mother, that she has fallen for the same foley every Addams before her has.

“It’s temporary,” she says instead, steadfastly not looking at the only color in her life. “Only until my manuscript is done.”

“What? Is the noise still bothering you? I’ve been putting on my headphones and trying not to giggle when I text!”

That’s the problem.

Look what I’m doing to you, my love, in my green-eyed rage, she doesn’t say. I'm smothering you.

“It’s only temporary, Enid,” she says again, as if doing that would make it reality. She hopes it will, but she knows this curse—has seen mightier Addamses than her fall prey to it. Richie Addams had been the worst of them all. A depraved Addams that fell prey to the curse in the 1800s, he had brutalized his love’s husband with his own bare hands in front of her; done the same to his love, twisted her into something beyond recognition and then eaten her—rumor has it while she was still alive and coherent, that he’d kept her alive to watch him eat her. He had killed himself shortly after.

(It features all too often in her dreams.)

She will not unleash her brutality upon Enid, would turn the knife against herself before she would.

“Oh come on! Just tell me what’s wrong, Wednesday. I thought we were past this!”

Wednesday doesn’t reply; folds the last of her clothes into her trunk and snaps it shut. She goes to move it from her bed but Enid snags her wrist and makes her face her. Wednesday can’t help it—it’s instinct to flick the knife out and press it to her assailant’s wrist. Blood wells up and Enid winces.

(isn’t this a metaphor—isn’t this a forewarning?

enid touches wednesday and gets hurt, seconds after wednesday vows to turn her knife against her own self before it touches enid’s skin.

there’s a lesson here, a horror story in the making.

there’s a lesson here, a love story in the making.)

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have touched you.”

The warmth of Enid’s palm still lingers on Wednesday’s wrist even after she removes it, a handprint printed on Wednesday’s bones. Wednesday stares at Enid’s wrist, at the blood that stains it, at the cut she put there and wonders what it would be like to put her lips to it, to taste her beloved’s essence on her tongue, to deepen the cut till she reaches bone and can leave her own mark on her.

(she has to leave, she has to leave, she has to leave—

it’s getting worse, it’s already gotten worse and it hurts.)

“I have to go,” she says and leaves without a backward glance. If Enid calls after her, Wednesday pretends not to hear.

(Wednesday’s name goes down in history.

Enid’s is written next to her.)

(was it a horror story, they ask.

perhaps, others say. perhaps it was a love story gone wrong; a twisted romeo and juliet, an orpheus and eurydice.

idiots, it was always supposed to be both.)

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wenclair fic #prompt me to write #angst #wenclair prompt #wednesday #my writing #wednesday's really going through it lol

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 03.06.24

There has been a lot going on recently, and I've been very drained. Progress on things has been slow going at best. I had some time yesterday, though, and opened up this doc while looking for another one. The next thing I knew it had doubled in length and I was resting in the domestic fluff. Writing - being able to create - when everything has been preventing it felt like breathing again. 🖤

Looking back, Luka was ninety percent sure that’s when it happened: when Marinette stood in the center of his brand new, empty flat, her hands on her hips, and declared that it was too bland.  He looked up from where he was talking with the landlord, discussing the contract and what paperwork he’d need to bring to the office to finalize everything, and gave her an amused look.

“…I don’t even technically live here yet,” he told her, but she just huffed out a little sigh and gestured at the walls.

“But it’s so…white,” she grumbled disparagingly.  She looked over her shoulder at him with a frown.  “You’re not white, Luka.”

“As long as you paint it a neutral color before moving out, I don’t care if you paint the walls,” the landlord said with an easy laugh.  He grinned at Luka.  “There’s a tenant on the second floor with black walls.  I’m sure you can’t do anything worse than that.  Whatever makes your girlfriend happy.”

It was the second time in less than two hours that someone had confused Marinette for his girlfriend.  He glanced nervously at her, but she had moved past them to start inspecting the kitchen again.

“She’s not…Marinette’s just making sure I don’t pick a crap hole,” Luka said.  The landlord’s eyebrows rose, and Luka felt his face warm.  “I mean…we’re not like that.”

The landlord’s eyes darted towards the kitchen, his expression incredulous.

“I suppose it’ll do,” Marinette sighed, appearing at Luka’s side again.  Her arms slipped around his own, hugging him to her side and doing nothing to disprove the landlord’s assumption.  “At least you don’t have to share it with your sister.”

The landlord was still giving him that Look – the one that said he didn’t really believe they Weren’t Like That in the slightest – but he said nothing as he handed Luka a stack of papers.

“As you can see, it’s ready to move in,” he said.  “Bring the paperwork back Monday along with your security deposit and first month’s rent, and then it’s yours.”

“That gives us just enough time to get you moved in before you leave for tour,” Marinette hummed, squeezing his arm.  Her face lit up as she looked back at the walls.  “I can paint while you’re gone.  We can pick out colors this weekend.”

“You have midterms,” he reminded her, but she scoffed and patted his arm.

“I can study while the paint dries,” she chided him, and what happened to painting after he left?  “Now, what do you think about periwinkle?  Oooh – or maybe sage?”

The landlord was still smirking at them as he saw them out.  Looking back, Luka was pretty sure the landlord had figured it out long before he had: Marinette wasn’t just tagging along to help him pick out his flat.  She was tagging along to pick out theirs.

#wip wednesday #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #wip fic #ver fic #idiots to lovers #guess I live here now

[pidgemotoiii]

Hot for Shuri pt 2

An: HEY THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE, (Why did some of my fav shuri writers like my story!! yall had me freaking out) it's really nice thank you so much. Sorry for being gone for so long I hope this makes up for it. Requests are open please send some in. If you want to send them that is.

Enjoy the fic!

Summary: It's shuri she's hot what else.

Warnings: Badly written smut.

Word count: 3.1k again

Oop forgot Translations: Used yandex translation

Bast, ndandingazi ukuba ungandincumela-I didn't know you could smile at me.

Ewe-angelo-yes my angel

usana-baby

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

Previously on ‘Hot for Shuri’

“wai-Wait how about you two have lessons here.” Is she serious? “I could buy some chairs and smaller desks and have them shipped by your second session.” She is serious. Riri considered for a bit, Shuri rocked on her heels waiting for her response. 

“Look, see you get two geniuses for the price of one.” If she only knew. Shuri couldn’t contain her excitement murmuring to herself that she'll place the order right now. You couldn’t feel any worse than how you did now.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

A week has passed and it is now Wednesday. One day before you, Riri, and Shuri’s first tutoring session.

“Shuri- we have to talk.” Riri barges into Shuri’s office. It was four in the afternoon. Her walk is commanding and her fists are clenched. 

“Not now Riri.” Shuri’s face is in her papers, she is clutching a red pen. Her face is stone cold.

 A portable whiteboard with objectives for tomorrow stood opposite her bookshelves. Flash cards also sit neatly, there are a lot of flash cards. Two swivel chairs are positioned at Shuri’s desk and Riri took a seat. 

“Shuri, are you really mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you-” 

“Yes you are, you haven’t given me anything to do in the lab for the past week” 

“Aneka is also very capable of filing and using a screwdriver.”

“Shuri.” Riri pleads.  

“What now?” Shuri was becoming more agitated by the second.

“Shuri! I know you.” Riri tries to grab Shuri's hand.

 Shuri yanks hers back and slams them down on the desk. “Well if you knew me, you would have known I was helping her.” 

“Helping her?” 

“Yes, her. She's been sitting there and not doing anything, asking no question, I don’t want to fail her. If you were trying to help you could’ve redirected her to me.” 

“Why are you trying to stop me from getting my money?” Riri questions and takes an immense sigh as she rolls her head. Shuri chooses not to respond and continues marking her papers, head down.

“Well too bad. I'm sorry you’re so hung up on my client but I can't do nun' bout it, she’s paying me, and if you don't like me helping.” Riri paused, “Why’d you let us use your office, huh?” Riri’s face screwed up. 

Shuri finally looked up, and flicked her eyes up and then down. "Because.” She smirks.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today is the day.

“Lia I'm sure it’s not that bad.” You drew out your voice. Your normal routine of picking Lia up from her two pm Basic Chemistry class is always a joy but today you have another engagement.

“Yes it is. I think she might have it out for me.” 

“I think you’re being slightly overdramatic.”

“No- I’m not. I know when someone is looking at me sideways.” When Lia got in one of her moods there was no dissuading her. You should go along with her for now. This time it was about her basic chem professor, allegedly; she's been making her answer questions when her hand isn't raised, taking half points off of her lab reports, and telling her to get off her phone more.

“So like a professor?” You had to remind her some time or later.

“I'm being serious- shut up, there she is.” The woman is really pretty, maybe twenty-six, her hair is in a high puff that’s slicked down, and her attire is suitable for working in a lab, with nothing flowing or too tight. 

Lia walked over to her and handed over a green folder. “Miss Pratt, here is my final draft for the different types of foodborne diseases.” 

“Thank you Miss Hamilton, I expect this is in a three prong folder and without your name on the lab report.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lia answered respectfully. Professor Pratt collected the report from her hands. As she turned back, Lia did a silent fist pump, and you quietly laughed behind your hand. “You are too much work, Miss Hamilton, I’m not your counselor but don’t let your friends drag you down.” Damn, you’re starting to see what Lia’s been telling you. Professor Pratt just nonchalantly flipped through her lab report. Lia gave her a very stink cut-eye, clenched her teeth, and pursed her lips. ‘Lia don’t do this please’ your eyes implored her. 

“Well, I don’t think you don’t have to worry about that, in fact- my friend has something to get to for a professor and you’re holding us up.” Lia was furious, her brow furrowed, her eyes were starting to water, and the metaphorical steam was rolling off her in waves.‘Subtly and Lia never go together?’  You thought to yourself. 

“Lia, Lia calm down, let's go, we spent thirty minutes here already. ” You whispered to her while rubbing her back in circles; Hoping to calm her down.

“Thanks, angel, it’s fine. You’re right let’s go.” You 'hmmed'. Professor Pratt glanced up from the lab report, she caught your eye with hers, though there was a feeling you couldn't place. You decided to give a curt ‘good afternoon’, Lia and you packed your bags and left. In the hallway, far enough from the lab, Lia said something.

“Told you, she was an ass.” Lia mumbled while sniffling.

“Hey-hey you could always make a complaint to the Dean.” 

“It’s not that serious, I'll be fine.” You gave her a hug sensing that she needed one.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Riri!” Your fist knocked on her door rapidly. You started to twitch a little bit, shuffling from one foot to the next and sweat was gathering on your brow. 

Lia leaned over to you. “I mean you could come with me back to my dorm-”

“Why would she do that when she just got here?” You knew the accent anywhere. First day of class and you’re already talking about ditching. You hung your head low with shame, but it wasn’t too low to miss the shit-eating grin Shuri had on her face; Lia was no better than her. 

“Riri’s coming in a minute but I could get you started on something.” A faint ‘she gonna get you started on something aye.’  You decided to end this interaction here. 

“Bye- I have to do real work now.” You told her sarcastically. 

“Work, alright then” Lia rolled her eyes and strutted away.

“Real work?” Shuri giggled above you. You seemed to have forgotten why you were there in the first place. She’s just so wow, looking up at her is something that you should do often. For a moment Shuri’s eyes were glossed over but reanimated once again.

“There’s a test on the desk for you.” you gaped at her. 

“A test, already?” 

“Yes, a test that you need to do. It’s just a general quiz, see where you are and what areas we need to focus on with you.” You flipped through the booklet; it’s ten pages. Do all the multiple choices make it better? Slightly. You shuffle over to your seat and rest your bag down. Shuri glided over to you and set the timer to one hour, she also handed you a pen; you told her 'thank you'.

Fifteen minutes later and you could still feel Shuri’s eyes focusing on you. You felt really good about it, even clenching your legs together. She was posted up by the door, leaning against it with her hands in her pockets. A loud knocking startled her and interrupted your train of thought, which didn't pertain to the test at all. 

“Hey! Hey sorry i'm late! That differential equations class, she loves group projects.” Riri stormed into the room, commanding all the attention. 

“Sh!” She put her finger to her lips and grabbed Riri’s wrist, tugging her towards her. 

“What?” Riri whispered.

“She’s taking the pre-test-”

“When did we decide on that?”

“When you came late” Wow that ended the conversation quickly. Shuri accentuated her words by poking Riri in the chest at ‘you’ and ‘late’. You turned around to see what was going around for yourself. Shuri looked over Riri’s shoulder and mouthed to you ‘It’s fine’ and smiled; You returned a smile to her.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour and ten minutes have officially passed. Shuri and Riri are looking over your paper with rapt attention. Shuri puts your paper down and they take a heavy sigh. ‘This cannot be good.’ you say to yourself. Shuri decides to speak first. 

“Ok, we have a lot to do” she walked over to where you were sitting. “Circuits, thermodynamics and quantum physics, the rest I don’t expect you to know yet. Luckily, I caught you early so I could help before the class gets into more strenuous topics.” Riri rolls her eyes at Shuri’s boasting.

“I could get you started on the basics of circuits right now.”

“Alright that's fine.” You answered Riri. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You take a labored sigh, ‘This is too much work’. Riri’s words morphed into one very long blurb. Something about a series, parallels, inhibitors, and switches. The absolute sight that is Shuri just blended into the background by the forty-five-minute mark. ‘Maybe I shouldn't have taken this class’, you can hear Lia’s smug 'I told you'. Regardless, Riri notices your lack of energy, and she decides that stopping for the day is the best plan of action. 

“So.. how was the class?" Riri asked.

“It was good, you didn’t rush or anything, just a lot of information.” You answered.

“That's good, I’m sending you some practice questions and diagrams.” Your phone made a familiar ‘bzzt!’ You told her 'thank you'. 

“Alright, imma bounce, don’t forget my money on Monday-” Riri took her bag and gave a short wave to you and Shuri. The door clicked shut, and that feeling came back. The warmth in your lower abdomen disperses throughout your whole body but loves to make a special home between your thighs. You close your eyes and take a breath to cool yourself down. Shuri looks at you inquisitively.

“You do know nobody get’s things right the first time around, yeah?” She looks at you from behind her computer. 

“Huh?! Oh-oh, the class.” She lets out a light giggle at your flustered-ness. Awe how sweet, she thinks you're worried about your performance (you are- but not at the moment). Her giggle grew into a boisterous cackle, and you were unsure whether you should join in. 

“I'm sorry-I'm sorry it’s just your face when I reminded-” She had to catch herself because of her laughing cutting up every word in her sentence. “When I reminded you of the lesson, your face just-” she made a downward motion with her hands. You were delighted to the fact that she found you funny but to the cost of your hornyness was an issue. 

“I promise, I won’t talk about the lessons after we’re done with them.” You gave her a ‘really’ look.

“I swear-” She was so close to you, you wondered if she somehow developed teleportation. Shuri was sitting on her desk, her cashmere pant leg almost rubbing against your arm. You decided to pull your head up so it doesn't look like you were staring at her crotch. Terrible mistake, the peak of her collarbone winked at you through the two unbuttoned buttons on her shirt.  

"So, what are we going to talk about?" a weak grin accompanied your question. 

"How about your friend? You guys seem cute." She gave an exaggerated nonchalant shrug. 

"Who? Lia? What, no, she's a friend, a good friend. Why ask though?"

"I'm sorry, Riri's just been-"

"Ah! I knew it!" You shot up out of your chair knocking Shuri off her balance. She fell with a thud against her desk, your hand on her wrist doing nothing to aid her fall. All you could do was laugh-her eyes widened. 

"Bast, ndandingazi ukuba ungandincumela." Shuri expressed sweetly while looking up at you while both of your arms caged her in. You immediately stopped laughing and jumped back realizing the compromising position you two were in. You checked your phone and it was six thirty!? Oh no, you snatched your bag off the floor mumbling a skittish 'I have to go bye!' The tension dissipated Shuri let out a weighty sigh as she got up and picked up her paperweights and pens off the floor. She buttons her shirt and shakes her head. 

As you sprinted down the hallway in the corner of your vision you saw Professor Pratt. You didn't know what the look was then but one thing you knew is that it was cold. 

"Good evening, Director Udaku."

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

You slammed your door shut, threw your bag in the corner of the room, and marched yourself to shower. In which none of your thoughts were consumed by Shuri at all. You ultimately flopped down on your bed after that exhausting day. Your eyes are heavy as lead, your pillow calling you to sleep.

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

You knock on the door, “Come, in..”, her voice groggy. She obviously didn't get enough sleep last night. The blinds were drawn slightly shut over the windows, minuscule fragments of light escaping. 

She’s at her desk, hunched over again, her head diving forward for the coolness of her desk. 

“Shuri..” you cooed, voice lilting on the last syllable, “Please at least close the computer”. Your heels clacked against the hardwood flooring like a metronome. Adding to the soothing haze you were unknowingly putting her under.  

You reached her, placed your hands on the desk, and bent over peeking at Shuri’s drowsy form underneath your eyelashes. Shuri's upper body sloped over, head now fully smooshed on the desk, her eyes closed and her hands trying to capture you with as much effort as she can. You being sneaky, you moved back, Shuri sensing your presence is not in immediate reaching distance; she pouts, pushes herself off of the desk, and flops dramatically against her chair. 

“Who knew Professor Udaku was just a child in disguise?” Your voice was coy, almost flirtatious. Her face scrunched, then morphed into a warm smile. You let out a sigh and began walking over to her briskly. When you got close to her, she spread her legs, and you ‘hmphed’ as you walked past her. She’s starting to pout again-

“Now Shuri stop that'', your sentence trails into a light whisper. Shuri’s chest feels heavy, she cracked her eyes to see you draped over her. Your hands rubbed her chest and your face nuzzled in her neck. 

“You have to stop doing this to yourself, at least for me please”, goosebumps littered her skin as you spoke. Your lips trailed up and down her neck, tenderly kissing her skin. Your hands now grazing the buttons of her white button-collared shirt. Shuri moaned softly, her right arm tugged at your left, and she tilted her head back allowing more area for you to kiss. Your right hand trailed down her shirt slowly unbuttoning, you could feel her abs, they clenched as you touched. Your hand grazes the belt buckle before stopping your ministrations altogether. Her knee jerked and her eyes shot wide as you giggled on the side of her chair. 

Her hair was a little roughed up and you could see the perspiration growing in between her brows. She tilted her head, “You think this is funny come here-” You’re trying to back away from her but your heels proved to be your downfall. It only took her two steps to pick you up and throw you over her shoulder. Those abs did not clench for nothing- She plopped down her seat and brought you down on her leg gently.

 “Let me kiss you properly.”, she was so demanding but who were you to deny her. She chased your lips with hers but every time she missed and you pulled away. Shuri was fed up now, she grabbed the back of your head and smashed your lips together. You moaned into her mouth 

“Shuri..”, she took that opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. One of your hands that was around her neck slipped into the back of her shirt to unclip her bra. She ground her thigh along your clothed pussy, your slick seeped through your underwear and onto her pants. She trailed sloppy kisses down your neck to return the favor and unhook your bra but she barely managed to suck on your nipple before you interrupted her. 

"Wait-wait" you were breathless but you wanted to do something for her. She paused, she looked frightened for a second but she began to understand when you slid down her body. She's moaning unabashedly, the guttural sound she makes. It makes you want to kiss her and leave her breathless as she did you. Unfortunately, you have to focus on your job at the moment. 

You come face to face with her clothed mound, and you give her a kiss. You unbuckled her belt, she was more impatient than you, she nearly kicked a hole trying to get her pants off. Oh, you could see why she was so excited now-

"Shuri-"

"Ewe-angelo?"

"How long did you have that on?" You give her a coquettish grin from between her legs.

"Is it bad if I don't remember?" She peered down at you and gently thrust her hip into your face. You got the message but you bit her thigh as payback. "Unh-" She thrusts again, so you decided that holding down her hips was the best option.

You pull down her boxers with your teeth and watched them drop out your mouth and down her thigh. She's so wet, you plunge your tongue in her pussy. Licking her folds, swaying your head from left to right eventually moving to suckle on her clit for more stimulation.

"Agh- you're so filthy, I'm gonna cum, usana- usana- please."

You tilted your head back, your eyes crossed, and your chin glistened. As you caught your breath, Shuri stared at you-

"You want a picture?"

"Is it bad if I say yes?" you chose to ignore that as you mounted her again to kiss and let her taste herself. 

"Keep your eyes closed." she told you. 

"Ah" you moaned lightly in her mouth as you felt the buzzing of the vibrator against your underwear. 

Although when you opened them back to look at Shuri's glistening face, you were met with the ceiling of your dorm. You chose to scream into your pillow thanking every holy being imaginable that you didn't have a roommate. You decided to look for your phone and of course, it was between your legs. You put in the passcode.

'Shit!'

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

Professor Shuri 

Hey I know I said nothing after ten but is this yours?

12:45pm

Picture

12: 46pm 

If it is you can come for it tomorrow after class.

Sorry to disturb you, good night. x

12:47pm 

You left your wallet?! What would your mother think of you? Wait no 'x'?

An: Im back yall and I'm black yall (sorry not sorry youre lucky i didnt type the whole thing). I really hope you enjoyed the fic again. Hopefully yall will get that Riri valentines day fic in the week, might be short tho. :3 Imma figure out the masterlist soon and tell me if the 'keep reading' thing helps oke byebye

#shuri fic #pidgefics #Shuri x reader #shuri x reader #shuri fluff #shuri udaku #riri williams #shuri smut #professor shuri #wakanda forever #letitia wright cinematic universe now #black panther #happy black history month

[courtingchaos]

Rent the Space Inside My Mind

1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I PT 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: During a hazy afternoon y'all get a little lost in your heads. Eddie tells you a really funny joke.

A/N: Jesus christ this got away from me. I've had this open for two weeks (???) just chipping away and rewriting and deleting everything. I need it off my phone. I'm so sick of looking at it! I really hope you guys enjoy it! This one gets a little spicy? Nothing crazy, just some daydreaming and just All of The Pining Imaginable. I'm not sick of these two being oblivious yet, so strap in friends. (AlsoAlso, just tossing this out there this is 18+, and will just get worse as it goes on so like don't interact if your a lil baby please) Y'all wanna see the gif again?

Friday afternoons were very specifically You and Eddie hangout hours. Typically quiet, never boring, it now usually started with a blunt since someone (you) had broken someone else’s ( Eddie’s) bong. It had truly been an honest mistake and while Eddie held no grudges, he did miss watching you pull on the thick smoke, so many thoughts rushing at him in those few precious seconds. You’d cough, eyes watering and he’d wonder if you’d make the same sounds with him buried in your mouth.

Slow your roll, cowboy.

It’d been maybe an hour since you kicked his bedroom door in, a McDonald’s bag held in either hand.

“Oh my queen, is that what I think it is?”

“Literally six large fries dude.”

You toss one bag at him where he’s laying on his bed, and beeline for his dresser to drop your stuff. You glance up at his first love while you shuck your jacket off and he’s obviously watching you because he playfully says “Go on, give her a kiss. You know you want to.”

Looking over, you’re 100 percent right. Fries sticking out his mouth, he’s got that shit eating grin plastered on his face, his dimples deep and soft and you just want to grab him there with your thumb and middle finger pressed in and push him back into his pillow.

“I’m not kissing your guitar.” You say flatly.

You on the other hand…

He pouts at you while you start digging around the top drawer, looking for the party supplies.

“You know, I wouldn’t go all haphazard in my drawers like that if I were you.”

“What, afraid I’m gonna find something dirty again?” You throw that over your shoulder while you search for the pre roll you know should be in there.

“Ha ha ha”, Eddie mock laughs, getting up from the bed to open a different drawer in the dresser. “I moved it, made more sense over here.” He pulls out a small wooden box and closes the drawer quick. You quirk an eyebrow at him and dart your eyes between him and the drawer his hand is still on. He just smiles easy and shakes the wooden box at you.

“Oh look at you, a whole box now? What, loose weed in your socks not your thing anymore?” You tease him and pluck it out of his hands to dig through it.

“Aha!”, the blunt you had so lovingly rolled on Wednesday in his van, parked outside of your own trailer before you went in for the night. Made like a pinkie promise for Friday afternoon, he’d taken it with a bow of his head; a knight receiving the fair lady’s favor.

“I’ll guard it with my life.” He meant it too.

Eddie had watched you, completely enraptured, run the tip of your pink tongue along a seam of the blunt, the smallest glint of metal peaking out of your mouth. He had tried being as sly as he could be, but he was sure he’d been actively panting by the time you handed it to him. This little fucking thing clutched in his hand had seen more action from you than he ever would. For that, it stayed in his possession.

“You better, that’s the last of that bag.” You’d held the empty ziplock up when you got out of the van, shrugging at him. Eddie promised to pick up only the best from Rick before Friday, so you dug forty bucks out of your wallet for him.

He’d long ago stopped arguing with you about paying since you were the one with an actual job. The bookstore downtown took up three of your afternoons normally, which is why Friday Fundays were created. If Hellfire wasn’t meeting and he didn’t have band practice, he’d sometimes bum around bothering you and your few coworkers.

They had all taken a liking to Eddie, firstly because he was pretty well read, and could quote Tolkien at them fast as lighting. Most of the older women you worked with were just as easily charmed by his big dimpled smile and his abundance of ‘ma’am’s’.

Secondly, he was typically quiet but always respectful so because of this, every single one of them had asked you on multiple occasions if you two had started dating yet. Always prefaced with a big sigh, you’d tell them ‘Why no, of course not, he is actually just my friend.’ It would always end with them tittering and smiling, talking about how boys were never friends with girls like that when they were younger.

“Georgia, it’s 1983, times do change.” You’d reminded your coworker one evening while you both watched Eddie rifling through books on a bottom shelf. Georgia had leveled a look at you and said, “I think after 62 years, I’d see when a boy likes a girl.” You’d wanted to remind Georgia of her coke bottle glasses but kept that one to yourself.

Eddie didn’t like you, not like that. You were positive. The two of you had come together as friends, nothing more. It wasn’t his fault you’d turned 16 and suddenly became aware of his dimples when he smiled at you, or how big his hands were when he’d grab at you when the two of you roughhoused. You’d kept this attraction on complete lockdown for two years and you weren’t about to let Georgia from the bookstore pry it out of you.

Firstly, and Most Importantly, he was your pit buddy. Very early on in the friendship, still both 15 and fresh faced and trying desperately to get into local shows, you’d realized you were both pretty hardy individuals. After saving Eddie from a beating by a Senior boy and then the next week starting a fight over one of the first uses of ‘Freak’ towards him, it’d given both of you an idea of what you could handle.

And it was glorious.

You’d only ever had girlfriends before meeting Eddie and while you did genuinely like doing the girly things, no one ever wanted to do the tomboy things with you. Now though you suddenly had someone who wasn’t afraid of getting into it with you, especially in the middle of a crowd of moving bodies. The first show had been some local band playing just outside of Hawkins, they were metal-ish and loud and fast and it was everything Eddie had promised it’d be. The two of you had spent the hour after the show waiting for your mom and wrestling in the grass next to the venue, taking turns throwing each other on the ground. That night had been the most fun you’d had in a long time and by the time you both climbed into the back of your mom’s station wagon you were breathless and covered in grass and laughing.

Your mom dropped Eddie off with Wayne, apologizing for the dirt child she was leaving on his doorstep.

“I have no idea what happened in an hour.” She’d kind of laughed, and Wayne waved her off telling her Eddie had come home looking worse.

“Tell Ms. Helen thank you.” Wayne said, herding him inside while Eddie yelled out goodbyes and thank you’s. On the short ride to your trailer on the backend of the park, your mom had tried to grill you for information about Eddie. You were honest with her, that the grass and dirt was from play fighting and the few cuts on your knees were from going nuts during the concert. Obviously she was concerned, but she admitted to you before turning the car off,

“I’m just happy you’re making friends hun, that’s all I want.”

~

Holed up in Eddie’s room, the window cracked just barely to help circulate air and keep as much warm in, you take your normal position on the floor, leaned up against the bed. His head is hanging off the edge while he tries to blow smoke rings.

He waves the blunt in front your face and you wave him off while you dig through your book bag to find your D&D notes. Diamond Head is on low in the background and you hum along while you look for the scribbles you’d jotted down during lunch earlier.

“What tragic character have you created now?” His voice is deep from the smoke and the angle he has his head tilted at. You don’t even chance a glance sideways, just clench your jaw and flex your toes in your shoes.

“No one new, I was thinking of some like, extra story for my cleric.”

“Oh Christ, not the corn god again.”

“Yes the corn god, all praise Helio.” You say it with no emotion but hold your hands up in praise above you. Eddie rolls his eyes and copies you, muttering ‘Praise Helio’ under his breath.

The two of you fall into quiet conversation, passing the blunt back and forth until it’s hard to pinch, stubbed out in the ashtray next to your leg.

Honestly you thought Eddie had fallen asleep with how quiet he was so you’d shifted away from the bed to lay next to it on the floor. Engrossed in notes from one of Eddie’s DM binders (and a good steady high), you don’t notice him slowly moving to keep you in his line of sight. He had been close to sleep but you shifting had stirred up your perfume from your hair and pulled him from his daze. Something sweet and deep that hung around his room long after you’d left.

He had only recently really admitted to himself just how head over heels he was for you so this attention he was leveling at you was still surprising to him. In fact, he’d picked up a new little habit: small things of yours that just happened to find their way into his pocket. Stuff you’d never really miss but little things that made him think of you. Hair clips that he actually used sometimes. A few chapsticks and one of your eyeliner pencils, a guitar pick you’d use when messing with his acoustic and a minifig that he knew you were looking for but it wasn’t important to this campaign so it didn’t matter right now. If a t-shirt of yours found its way in there it was none of his business.

Under the assorted stolen tchotchkes was a single Polaroid he kept tucked deep in the drawer under the little cigar box he’d handed over to you earlier.

That lived face down in the drawer lest you almost accidentally ever see it again. He’s not a pervert (Don’t lie to yourself Munson) but this was an accidental photo taken at an opportune time. Halloween the year before and you had shown up to his trailer in an Elvira getup that had Eddie clutching the counter to stay upright. Complete with black wig and tits out to the universe he was sure he’d never seen so much of you on display. Standing in the doorway you’d had to call his name a few times before he invited you in, Eddie stuck in a staring contest with your chest. You’d done a little half turn for him once inside where he all but vomited compliments at you over your painfully accurate costume. If he followed you around like a dog all night, it was only to make sure he was somehow marking you as untouchable to everyone else.

This was just one of the rich kids parties so Eddie was there to sell and you had tagged along for an excuse to dress up. Normally Eddie would plant himself in his van for an hour or two and then head home but you seemed to be enjoying the party, even though you barely left his side. He never actually partied with this crowd of rich assholes but the combination of you, beer, and everyone being moderately decent to him all night lent to him letting his guard down. By the time midnight had rolled around the two of you were a drunk giggling mess, looking everywhere for the wig you had eventually torn off in the heat of the house.

The morning had snuck up on you though, both of you jolted awake by an errant ray of light seeping through the blinds in the strange living room. You found your shoes by the front door and you two snuck out to Eddie’s van and headed home.

It wasn’t until he was sat outside his own trailer, smoking before heading in, that he found the Polaroid in the breast pocket of his jacket. Eddie had found a camera at some point, he can vaguely remember that. And he had taken this crooked photo of you, legs stretched out and propped up in front of you with the slit of your dress hiked up around your hip. Your head thrown back against the couch while a cigarette hung out of the corner of your mouth. The long line of your neck mapping a trail down to the deep cut neckline and just cleavage for days. Eddie stares and stares for so long before he notices in the bottom corner of the photo, your hand resting on his thigh, painted black nails digging into the dark denim.

It takes his forgotten cigarette burning down to the filter and burning his finger to snap him out of his lust daze.

That photo had lived beside his bed for a good while, serving as a bookmark in many things. (Which is how you’d almost found it one afternoon in his copy of Salem’s Lot.)

He’d stare at it before bed, imagining whatever scenario he could that involved you crawling over that couch and devouring him. Your lips painted dark red, leaving marks all over his neck and you hair, curled and soft from being pinned up all night dragging over his shoulder. He’d never been with a girl that had really taken her time with him but he imagined you would. He knew how soft your hands were, could imagine what they’d feel like dragging down his ribs over his stomach, tugging at his belt. You’d push his shirt up while pulling his jeans down and look up at him with that glint in your eye, the one you’d get before you really threw yourself fully into something.

Sometimes this would be the softest imagined scenario all quiet moans and gentle kisses, you handling him so carefully. Featherlight touches down his thighs, your hands soft around him while you whispered little praises up at him from between his knees. Those were nights where he was feeling especially lovesick (like when you were out on a fabled date). Getting deep into his feelings in the dark, sometimes not even actually jerking off, just thinking of you while he lay in his bed trying to sleep.

The other times though, those times he’d grab you up in front of everyone at that party and find a dark corner of that rich kids kitchen. He’d walk you backwards, up against a wall and cage you in with his body, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other ghosting down your side to grab at your hip. Without shoes on your only a few inches shorter than him, but you’d still have to look up at him from under your lashes. Your hands would wrap up the sides of his face and wind in his hair and you’d pull him down to you, lips soft and warm. He’d hook a finger in the neckline of your dress to try and get your tits out and he just knew they’d fit so perfect in his hands. You’d mewl at him and make all the little noises he could imagine you might make when he runs his fingers over the lace of your bra. He’d smirk at you while you pulled at his neck, trying to get him closer, pulling your body flush up against his. Slot your leg between his and grind up on him to feel the hard length of him against your thigh.

It didn’t take much for him to picture you bent over a bathroom vanity, hands braced on the sink in front of you and crying for him. His hand fisted in the velvet of your dress and pushing it up to your waist so he could watch himself bury his cock in you while you whined and moaned for him to not stop, never stop, keep going your gonna make me cum-

The shuffling of paper brings him back down into his room. Remembers that you are also in his room and he has to keep his fucking imagination in check because you can clearly see the raging hard on he has from your place on the floor. Only if you looked over that is, just a turn of your head and you could see him straining against his jeans-

He mentally slaps himself back in place and takes a deep breath to try to focus on something literally anything that isn’t you and your tits and your thighs and your breathing…

From your position on the floor you can see Eddie lying face up on his bed, eyes closed, fingers tapping on his chest along with the drum beat. The notes you’ve been looking at are held at such an angle that you’re actually just peering at him like a little creep over the top. Watching his fingers tap, watching his chest rise and fall, watching his face scrunch up when he hears the bass really kick in. It’s lulling you into a stasis of sorts; you’ve been good and toasty for a bit now, the two of you no longer essentially hotboxing his room. The floor was supposed to be grounding you so you’d stop imagining things like climbing up on the bed with him. Would he even open his eyes or would he just smile?

Assume you were trying to get comfortable.

You could surprise him. Tangle your hand up in his hair and pull his head back to hold him in place while you attacked his neck, leaving little red marks up and down the column of his throat. Maybe he’d laugh, all breath and a little gasping, the vibrations making you smile against him. You could move your way up to his mouth and he’d taste just like you’d imagined a hundred times before. Tobacco and weed and a little salty from the fries he’d been eating earlier.

This is not the first, nor will it be the last time, that you sit and wonder what secrets that mouth beholds.

You are slowly spinning out on the floor of his room, your mind going…well, more like an inch a minute rather than a mile. Eddie’s notes long forgotten next to you in the carpet, you’re just about to drift off into your daydream about his fingers tap tap tapping down your sternum when he clears his throat and turns his head to look at you, says something you don’t catch.

“What?”

“I said ‘can I ask you something?’” He repeats himself and rolls over to lean on an elbow. His eyes are fixed on you, a notch between his brows making him look worried.

“What’s up?”

“Can I rain check next Friday?” He asks you almost hesitantly. It takes a few seconds for you to catch up before you frown a little yourself.

“And postpone the Friday night french fry extravaganza? What, you got a hot date or something?” You think you’re being slick but a blush starts to creep up his neck.

“No way! Did Gwen change her mind?!” You sit up from the floor to crawl over to the edge of the bed where you prop your chin to grin up at him. Your daydream is left with the notes while you rush into his space, face close to his own. Weed is still hugging your faculties pretty warmly so you don’t get a chance to stop your eyes drifting down his face to his lips.

He absolutely does not miss that look, but he’s also dipped pretty deep in this high so he lets it go because this is new. He’s never seen you look at him like that before; bites his bottom lip because he’s not entirely sure what’s happening in this moment.

No harm in letting you stare.

No harm in him watching you worry at your own lip.

Please let me bite that for you.

Your eyes finally snap back up to his with a questioning look in them.

Yes yes yes do it first please I’m too much of a coward.

Time is molasses the way the guitar in the background is molasses and you’re just staring at each other when you huff lightly.

“So…Gwen?”

Yeah, Gwen. Who’s Gwen?

“Uh yeah kind of? Nothing like crazy or whatever.” He breaks eye contact with you to stare at his blanket and pick at it. He’s not even sure why he’s still set on hanging out with her honestly, not with this huge fuckin’ crush he’s got burning for you. That first time he’d asked Gwen it had been with some actual feeling behind it. It’d only taken her a week to come back after turning him down though, a quiet question on her lips. Cornering him in the parking lot after school she’d made it a point to get him alone by his van where they were out of eyesight of everyone else. That should have been his first clue that this wouldn’t be a real date, but he’d been too caught off guard by the god damn cheer outfit.

“Does that offer still stand?” She’s sweet and a little naive maybe and he’s kind of weak for that so of course it does. Anything to get you off of his mind.

“For what?”

“Going out for a bite.”

“I mean sure, if you’re free.”

“Of course silly. Next Friday though.” She giggles and tucks a note with her number into his vest pocket.

He tells you all this, not looking up from his blanket the whole time. He admits that he knows she probably isn’t really interested in going out with him but she seems fun and nice and like who cares right?

“Yeah, she gets to test out what kind of freak I am and I probably get laid so…” he trails off. You’re still all up in his space so you can see his eyes darting around his blanket, looking for a distraction. This isn’t the first of these kinds of conversations between the two of you and you’ve seen that hurt in his eyes before. It’s not like Eddie is laying waste to all the girls of Hawkins High. He’s got maybe a solid handful of conquest under his belt, but they’ve all mostly treated him like a big secret. Something they got to do on a weekend or three and then moved on to something better. Something brighter. Something more well rounded and presentable.

“It’s not like she’s gonna take me home to meet mom.” His laugh is small and hollow when he rolls back over to stare at his ceiling. You pull yourself away from the edge of the bed, the cozy little spell broken.

“Listen man, you don’t have to go out with her. Just cancel it. What’s the worst that’ll happen? She doesn’t talk to you anymore?” You’re trying to break the sad tension with a joke and a gentle punch to his shoulder. He doesn’t budge, just sighs real big and continues to stare up at nothing.

You’re not super worried about this. Either he doesn’t hang out with her and you two get to have your normal Friday, or he does and you wait it out like you have with the others.

See, Gwen is an easy obstacle. She’s one of the nice cheerleaders, and she’s a year below you guys but she has no idea what she’s dipping her toe into. Eddie is a special brand of person and with his ability to talk an ear off, he’s sure to scare her off quickly. They’ll go out on their date and probably fool around a few times and then she’s going to comment on Hellfire. Or his band. Or his music. And then Eddie is going to get bored. He’ll remember what it’s like to talk about his interest unhindered with his little group of misfits and he’ll come back, acting like nothing ever happened.

So you have nothing to worry about.

Gwen will be easy.

💕Tags List💕

@edsforehead, @fracturedarkness, @munsonsguitarpick

Thank you again you guys!

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #My work #fic #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #x reader #Eddie Munson smut #but only like a little #It'll get there I promise #This one really got away from me #4k words???? #these were supposed to be drabbles and shorts wtf #lmao do you guys like my Dimension 20 reference? #blink and you'll miss it #Rentfic

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

Tagged by @transboybuckley @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @jeeyuns thank you loves💕💕💕💕🫂🫂🫂🫂

I need help to choose another angst fic for @911angstinautumn so snippets for 2 fics (under cut) and poll

secret fic

Chimney wolf whistles and Buck turns to him and then his gaze slips to Eddie and he loses his breath a little.

Eddie looks perfect. Hair beautifully laid, which now explains what he's been doing in the shower for so long, beautiful dark burgundy shirt hugs his muscular shoulders and big hands which are getting bigger and bigger from Eddie's gym workouts over last two months, and his thick thighs are covered with rather tight black jeans, and the moment Eddie bends over for the bag, revealing a view of a gorgeous ass, Buck loses connection with reality for a second. Eddie looks perfect, hot and breathtaking. He’s so beautiful especially when his lips stretch into a smile and his cheeks turn red. 

“Who's the lucky one, Eddie?” Chim asks and Eddie blushes more.

But Buck hides himself that moment in his locker praying for gods to strike him with lightning again right now.

Because Eddie looks like that for someone who’s not Buck. And Buck can’t stop thinking if would Eddie look like that for him three months ago.

Buck doesn’t even need confirmation from Eddie to know that he is going on a date right now. He knows him too well to know it’s not Eddie’s everyday style.

...

Buck for years was trying to find real love, he tried so many relationships, even when he knew it’s not going to work, but he wanted to believe they could love him.

Buck hoped things would be different with Eddie, but Eddie is going on a date. And now Buck knows he can't have a good ending. The universe is doing everything to prevent him from getting it. And he's so angry about everything. At the universe and its stupid jokes, at Eddie for something which is out of his control, but Buck is still angry. But the main thing is on himself, for letting himself believe that such a good thing as Eddie's love can be real.

Like Buck can deserve something as good as Eddie’ s love. Like Eddie and his love can be something which stays forever with someone like him.

after 6s au

"Hey, Eds, I... Maybe you want to go out with me? Like a date?" Buck says uncertainty even though he is almost sure Eddie will say yes.

"Buck," Eddie says his name with so much panic and Buck sees how he tries to find a way to escape the conversation. Buck is sure Eddie calculates whether he will be able to get behind the wheel and drive away without hitting him.

It goes worse than he expected. 

"I don't think it's a good idea." 

And just like that Buck's heart is broken. He hears the sound of shattered hopes for a future with Eddie, for his boundless love, like porcelain breaking into small pieces, tearing him apart from the inside, and something suffocates him, and Buck feels like at the moment when he spat out his own blood in front of all his family. He wouldn't mind a new blood clot killing him now. Faster and not as painful as a broken heart and eventually a broken friendship, because Eddie will feel strange and uncomfortable being around him. 

“We can’t, not like that.” 

Shit, Eddie looks like it’s his fault he was so stupid and fell in love with him. But it’s not and he needs to make sure Eddie knows it.

“Eds, I understand. It’s ok, I will be ok. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Buck smiles as bright as he can, but he’s sure Eddie sees his sad eyes. 

He needs to run away from Eddie for this night to cry as much as he can till there’s no tears in his eyes. So he runs to the jeep and drives home.

He somehow should stop loving Eddie eventually, not like it is possible to stop those feelings as he hadn't known about them only a week ago but felt them anyway. But he will try for Eddie cause Eddie deserves a real friend and not stupidly in love with him Buck. 

And for himself too, because he deserves to fall in love with someone who loves him how he dreams all his life.

tagging @honestlydarkprincess @911onabc @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @lover-of-mine @heartshapedvows @bekkachaos @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @barbiediaz @buddierights @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @devirnis @loserdiaz @buck-coded @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @userdisaster @useramor @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @jobairdxx @translasso @firemedicdiaz @jesuisici33 @bigfootsmom @oliverstaark

#after 6s wip #secret fic #buddie #buddie wip #wip wednesday

[sentientcave]

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE - Have some Sparrow! I've been working on this one since December and I'm finally dipping into the last stretch of it. Been working on other things lately but still hoping to get this one finished before summer hits proper. I don't think I've shared much of this one anywhere yet.

Bob and his wife, Wendy, had pulled up chairs so they could sit and talk to the four soldiers. Or three, rather. Ghost had moved one table over to eat, his mask pulled up above his mouth so he could shovel food into his mouth, hunched over his plate like he was afraid someone was going to try and take it. He glanced up at Morgan as she walked in, scraped the final bite of food off his plate, and washed it down with the last of his tea before pulling the mask back down. It was almost fascinating to watch his throat work to swallow before disappearing behind the knit material.

“You fellas all set?” Morgan asked, bumping her hip up against the side of the booth next to Price. “I’d like to get home before this storm gets worse. Laika doesn’t like thunder, the big baby.”

"Just about, I'd say," Price said, tilting his head back to look at her. "We just had the pleasure of hearing all sorts of wild tales about you. How many of them are true?"

"None, like as not. I'm as well-behaved as they come, and it's always been that way."

Wendy stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Of course, Morgan."

Bob covered a cough with his arm that sounded suspiciously like bullshit.

Wendy had been a teacher at Morgan's high school. As far as she knew Morgan had been skipping classes to get up to trouble, but it had usually just been work. Pick ups and drop offs— rarely the same kind of dangerous situations that had caught her mother flat footed out on the tundra, but there had been a handful of fire fights here and there, and many more desperate struggles with fists or a knife. She had probably seemed like a lot of trouble from Wendy's perspective, since she'd come to school in rough shape many times, her excuses ranging from fist fights to tree climbing incidents to sports injuries. It was a surprise that she had gotten away with it without someone getting worried, but she'd always had a talent for lying her ass off.

"Alright, maybe I was a bit of a wild card when I was young. But I grew up. It all feels pretty silly looking back now." She shrugged lightly, flashing a sheepish smile at the soldiers, like she was embarrassed by her seemingly rowdy past. “I was an army brat without a whole lot of supervision. I’m just impressed I managed to graduate.”

"Too bad." Ghost muttered behind her. "You were just startin’ to sound fun."

There wasn’t much point in dignifying that with a response. Ghost seemed keen on getting under her skin, just to see what would happen. She wasn’t about to let him get a rise out of her. And if he wanted to play games, he was about to find himself outmatched.

She took her jacket off while she waited for the others to finish eating and knelt on the bench that Ghost was sitting on, bracing her arms on the back of the booth. He shifted beside her, putting his back against the window and bringing his knee up onto the seat so that his leg pressed against hers. He tapped the top of his boot against the bottom of her sensible white running shoes. She ignored him. “So, what really brings you boys to town?” she asked, even though they would have to lie, if not in front of her, certainly in front of Bob and Wendy. “Fishing trip?”

“Oh aye,” Soap said, grinning. "We love fishin'."

Gaz smirked, glancing up at her. “We’re after a big catch.”

Danny wouldn’t be a big catch. Likely it was one of his nasty friends, as Nikolai had put it, that the SAS agents were after. No one that Danny had known when he and Morgan were married. It had mostly been gangs looking for guns back then, or the occasional mob contact looking to pick up something heavier for a specific job. SAS was special forces and counter terrorism, which meant that Danny had gotten himself involved in something particularly out of his depth.

#IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE #Cave Writing #Sparrow #Some of the early bits like this need some structural edits #I've also got better defined voices for them all now #So definitely some work to be done #cod mw fanfiction #OC: Morgan

[ghostiewriter]

i have been thinking about an enemies to lovers jiara where she gets hurt and he sees and they have the classic “who did this to you” moment and goes absolute feral on whoever touched his girl😭😭 hes so boyfriend and i love him

“Someone’s a bigger bitch than usual today.”

“Fuck off.” 

“What? Forget to eat the souls of some orphaned children today, Carrera.” 

“Fuck. Off.” 

But the blond only grinned in response, loving the fact he was getting under her skin. Kiara was always irritable around him, always had been for god knows how long since they first met. But her patience was running thinner than usual today, and he couldn’t deny that even if he loved pissing her off, it wasn’t as fun when she took barely two words to get worked up.

“C’mon, where’s the snark?” he called out, watching her simply shake her head at him as she made her way towards her car. 

He was currently leaning against his bike, zippo dancing between his fingers as he waited for John B to finish whatever the hell he was doing after school on a Wednesday. But his attention was quickly snatched by a certain curly-haired kook who had her head down as she made her way through the carpark, looking like she was doing everything to avoid any sort of human interaction. 

So obviously JJ had to bother her.

“I’m not in the mood, Maybank, so piss off,” she stated bluntly as she reached for her keys in her bag but JJ reacted first, reaching out to snag her bag and holding it above his head with a grin. 

“Come get it, sweetheart,” he grinned, holding her back in a fist as he waved it around mockingly. However, he was waiting for Kiara to turn around and shoot him with her usual glare, the one that sent a thrill through his body just before she bit his head off for taunting her. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for her to turn around and for his eyes to instantly narrow on the bruised cheek and split lip she had. 

“What the fuck?” 

Any amusement on his face was quickly gone, drowned out by a wave of hot, raging anger as he took in the sight of her. And before she could even react or push him away, he was dropping the bag and quickly taking her face in his hands as his thumb gently ran over the bruise. 

“Who did this to you?” JJ muttered, eyebrows furrowed together as he waited for a response but she stayed silent. “Who fucking did this to you, Kiara?”

She tried to pull herself away from his grasp. “It’s nothing—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Kiara,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his eyes darkening as he watched her wince a little when she pressed her lips together. “Not me. Never to me.” 

“It’s not like you really care,” she muttered, face remaining somewhat blank as she placed her hands on his wrists in hopes of pulling away but found she couldn’t bring herself to do so when his touch was comforting. 

“Maybe you really are as dumb as I thought you were,” JJ grumbled, shaking his head and trying to ignore the way his heart was thundering in his chest. “Give me a name.” 

She raised her brow. “Gonna defend my honour, Maybank?”

“I’ve been edging for a fight,” he said so bluntly that she found herself believing him. “Name. Now.” 

“It’s fine, JJ,” she murmured in a softer voice, almost looking caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

“It’s not, Kiara. So you either tell me a name or I find the fucker myself. And let me tell you, the second option will be a lot worse for them,” he muttered, though the words were a lie. He was gonna kick their ass regardless of how he got their name. “You choose, sweetheart.”

“JJ—”

“A name, Kiara. Don’t make me ask again.” 

She grumbled a name under her breath, but he understood her as clear as day.

“Atta girl, baby. See, that wasn’t so hard.”

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara fic #jiara fanfic #jiara fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP wednesday

i've been rebinging House so the next chapter of Plenty to go around is essentially done. Unless the muse gets something else finished first that'll probs be sundays update

here's a teaser for ch 5 👀😈 vvvv

slut!chase, daddy kink, top!house, chase/everyone fic

Chase is showered and on his way back to the sleep lab when he's met with two highly unexpected, early morning visitors. 

Foreman’s been able to save face, and ass, for about 15 minutes, but when Chase walks in with still-damp hair and a sizable limp House & Wilson put two and two together and get slut. 

Wilson looks pleasantly amused between the two young men, whereas House’s eyes threaten homicide. 

“Well, I’m glad to see we’re upholding the Princeton Plainsboro standard of care in my absence,” House spits.

“The patient's fine-” Chase starts to insist but House is quick to shut him down. 

“Not talking to you.” 

Chase flushes red and his jaw snaps close with a click of his teeth.  

“Someone left Chase hanging,” Foreman laughs, folding his arms across his chest, “figured it was my turn to lend a helping hand.” 

Chase thinks it's ballsy, talking back to House like that. Maybe a little too ballsy. Just because the team was independently fucking Chase didn't mean their pecking order changed. 

“You’re interfering with his punishment. How can the slut learn if you undermine my authority?”

Foreman and House continue to glare at each other like they were a couple of cowboys about to draw their weapons at a high noon standoff. Foreman’s the first to fire. 

“Your training must not be that good,” Foreman shrugs, “Got him to cum twice with the cage on anyway.”

Chase clears his throat to cover an unexpected moan. And then every bit of House’s fury is suddenly directed at Chase. 

“He did what?”

“I-” Chase’s entire body flushes hot. There was nothing he could say to deny it. “I'm sorry.” 

The edge of House’s mouth raises in a smirk but Chase knows from experience that doesn't mean anything good for him. 

“Oooo naughty boy. Now Daddy’s going to have to spank you.”

---

They’ve relocated to House's office. 

The blinds are drawn but the doors aren't locked and as soon as he can, House pushes Chase down across his desk, yanks down his pants, and slaps his exposed ass cheek hard. 

“Fuck!” Chase howls, hips thrusting against the desk in an effort to get away from the stinging pain. That doesn't last long though, because when it takes too long for another swat to come, Chase is pushing his ass backward and wordlessly begging for another. 

“Nope, not if you enjoy it. Defeats the point of punishment,” House says before pushing the tip of his forefinger past the puffy entrance of Chase’s asshole. 

“AH!” Chase hisses.

“You're pretty swollen, you sore?”

“Yes Daddy…” Chase pants, resting his face back against the desk’s surface. 

“How about now,” House asks before rotating his forefinger to find Chase’s prostate. He pushes hard against it and-

“Ah!” Chase hisses, “Yes, fuck, oh my god…” 

“Good. It’s going to get worse,” House warns before he pushes a second finger inside. 

“Fuck. Daddy please…” Chase cries. His hands fly across the desk, knocking everything to the ground in an effort to find something to hold onto. The sting in his ass hurts, but the ache in his cock and balls has him begging for this to continue. 

“House…” Wilson warns, misreading Chase's noise. Chase had honestly forgotten the man was there.

House huffs his own irritation the doctors way. 

“Chase? You good?”

“YES! Please, please,” Chase pants desperately, “I’m sore, but I want it. Don’t stop.”

“See Jimmy. Nothing to worry about.” 

House twists his fingers and rubs again at his oversensitive prostate, Chase’s knees tremble so hard that if it wasn't for House’s desk, he’d fall on the floor. 

“Fuck…Daddy…”

“What? You want to cum? You don't deserve to.”

“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Chase sobs, but in some ways he's not. Everything hurts, but just the way he likes. He’s got House’s full attention on him, and when he gets jealous, his fucks get rougher. His desire to mark his claim gets stronger. And Chase loves when that side comes out. 

“Foreman didn't cum in you?” 

“No. But I wanted him to.”

Chase can practically hear House’s eyes roll. 

“Of course you did, you want everyone to cum in you.”

“Please,” Chase blubbers. 

“What are you willing to do for it?” House asks, and before Chase can answer, House’s cock is sliding inside him and Chase melts against the desk with a pitiful whimper. 

“Hey,” House says, slapping Chase's ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Anything,” Chase groans, ass clenching hard around the man’s cock.  

“Anything?” House confirms, dragging his dick back out before thrusting sharply back inside. “Keep the cage on, for say, 3 days?”

“Hhhn,” Chase whines instead of answering because House has started up a steady pace, holding Chase’s hips firm. The angle puts immense pressure on his prostate and Chase’s whimpers only get louder. The desk squeaks under the strain, but there’s no way in hell anyone will stop. 

“Chase.”

Chase's answer gets punched out of him with the force of House’s next thrusts.

“Yes!” 

“A week?”

Chase’s legs are having a hard time keeping up with the thrusts.

“Y-yeah...” 

“2 months?” 

House’s next thrusts are intentionally deep. Chase feels his sanity sizzle and fry.  

“Fuck… yeah, yeah I would. I would, please- just,” Chase groans, unable to finish the sentence the next jab to his prostate leaves him gasping. 

“Wilson, put your dick in his mouth. If he keeps moaning, someone's gonna walk in here.”

#chouse #chase x house #house x chase #house md #greg house #robert chase #james wilson #chilson #choreman #chameron #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #links in pinned #i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #wip wednesday

[askweisswolf]

WIP... Wednesday...?

I was tagged by @sidestepping and @the-rebel-archivist and I actually just finished this last night, so why not, I'll throw the whole thing up and hurt everyone with it all at once. Just some general Durge thoughts on my boy Oriel, no spoilers.

I think the usual folks have been tagged but I'll still tag @eskcl, @ohmypawsandwhiskers, @griever-receiver, @jellydishes, @the-darkness-does-not-bargain, and @lexa-griffins if any of you need a nudge with writing or art, and of course anyone who sees this post is free to respond!

“Why did you do it?”

You look into the face of a man you don’t remember and try to think of a reply.

You’re dreaming; you realize that immediately, because only in dreams do you ever feel like this. Disconnected, on the outside, a stranger watching in the shadows. Most nights you either don’t dream at all or your dreams are violent, jumbled things that make no sense; darkness, running, screams. So many screams. Some nights you wake up in a panic, thinking you’ve blacked out again and the screams are your companions.

This dream is different, though. This dream is sunny, warm, hazy around the edges. You’re smaller in this dream, compared to the others. It’s a strange sensation to be so small, when you know you should be bigger. Your knuckles are bloody and bruised, but it’s your blood. Mostly your blood.

“Oriel.” The man’s voice is soft, but you can’t meet his gaze. You stare down at your hands, at the dried blood. You don’t feel a thrill now, looking at the result of your handiwork; all that curls in your stomach is shame. It’s a foreign feeling.

You remember now, you think. You got into a fight. You should have stopped–you were winning. Winning is easy, when you’re as big as you are. You’re smaller than you one day will be, but you’re still bigger than you should be, and it just feels so good when you get into a fight. The scent of blood, the sound of broken bones, the screams–

“It was my fault.” Another voice, over the man’s shoulder. Your eyes jerk up, but you can’t make out the features of the boy speaking; he’s close, but his features are blurred, faded in a way you can’t place. “Those boys were pushing me, I should have just tried to get away–”

“I hit them,” you say abruptly. You don’t know why, but this boy taking the blame for your actions bothers you. “They were being mean, so I hit them.”

The man breathes in, quietly; you tentatively meet his gaze. “And you didn’t stop,” he says.

His features are just as fuzzy as the other boy’s, but his eyes are clear. Sharp, but warm. “I didn’t stop,” you confess, and this time you hold his gaze.

The man sighs at that, and you brace yourself for his response. He shifts, tugs a bowl of water closer, and gently dips a piece of cloth in it; when he brings it to your bloodied knuckles you hiss, but stay still.

He doesn’t say anything, as he cleans your wounds. Somehow that feels worse than if he yelled at you.

“I’m sorry.” It comes out in a rush. “I should have stopped. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

It’s a lie, of course. You know why you didn’t. It felt too good, too right, and this is what always happens. You try so hard to be gentle, you try to seem normal, but you never quite can. There’s something inside you that likes the violence a little too much, or maybe it’s just you. You don’t know.

You don’t know why you’re still trying.

“You should have stopped,” the man agrees, and he finishes washing the blood off your hands. “I won’t lie, I’m not happy you did this. I would have preferred you used your words.”

You scowl. “He was,” you say, nodding to the other boy. “They weren’t listening.”

“Someone not listening doesn’t give you cause to hit them.” His words are gentle but firm, as he sets the wet cloth aside. “But… you did what you did for a good reason, even if it wasn’t quite the right thing.”

You frown, now. You don’t understand, and it must show on your face because the man chuckles, shifting to brush curly strands of hair out of your eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“I would have been mad if you had started a fight just because you could. I’m not happy that you kept beating them when you should have stopped.” He’s holding your hands in his, now. You’ll be bigger than him one day, but right now your hands look so small in his. “But you fought for a reason. I can’t say I’m not proud of that.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man studies your hands for a moment before he nods, meeting your gaze again. “I’ll explain it to you tomorrow,” he says. “I think it’s time we started teaching you to control your strength.”

You don’t know if that will help. You want it to help so badly it aches.

“Okay,” you whisper, and when he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead you wake up.

#baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #OC: Oriel #my writing

[elvensorceress]

wip Wednesday 

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Here’s a little snippet of the Christmas fic I’m working on for the Hallmark holiday movie, 911 fest woo! ❄️ (It’s AU so Buck and Maddie are working at a hotel and he’s just met Eddie, who immediately insisted on helping Buck put up Christmas lights so Buck isn’t doing it alone.)

Buck pulls on the lines that move the window washing rig and the man easily attaches lights to the molding on the ledge of the building. He’s quick and efficient, and probably has gloves that don’t let his hands freeze. It is definitely faster, and better, working with someone. 

“You can tell me anything,” the man says without looking at him. “If you want. If you need someone to talk to.”

Buck stares at him and isn’t sure he understands. Why would he offer that? How could anyone be okay listening to him ramble? Why would they want to listen? Could Buck really tell him anything? He probably could. They’re strangers. They’ll never see each other again. It won’t matter a few hours from now. 

Although, now that he’s been given free rein to talk about anything, he isn’t sure what to say. It’s easy to talk when it’s about nothing. When it seems personal but really isn’t. He kind of wants to admit something personal. Just so he can say he did it. Just to know what it feels like to actually be open and honest, and free with his heart. 

He used to be that way. Hopeful. He used to be like that. 

He hands the man another roll of lights and lets him finagle the clips and the bulbs into place while he leans against one side of the rig and takes weight off his bad leg. “You’re sure?” 

“I am. Go for it.”

Buck eyes him up and down. He’s such a weird rich person. Or maybe he’s just weird in general. No one wants to listen to Buck. Which, he always thought, was fair because wow can he ramble on about nothing when no one stops him. “Are you a shrink?”

The man makes a scrunched face like the very idea of such a thing smells worse than some of the rooms Maddie’s had to clean. “No. But I know what it’s like to keep everything bottled up until you want to scream. Or throw yourself off a building. As you seemed to have no problem doing. I figured it might help if you had someone who would listen.” 

Fair enough. Fuck, though. He’s not just hot, but he’s kind. And stubborn sure, but he seems so genuine. Buck’s met plenty of people who fake being attentive and interested, plenty of people who act honest and sympathetic but don’t really care and only want to use you. Plenty of them. Including his most recent ex. Thank fuck that’s over. 

This man doesn’t seem anything like that. He seems… too perfect to be real if Buck’s being honest. “Are you sure you’re not some kind of therapist?”

The man gives him a look and it has amusement in it even if he doesn’t actually smile. “I’m a veteran.” 

“Ohhh,” Buck gives him a grin to make up for it. “So you’ve seen some shit is what you’re telling me. I get it.” He moves their cart a little further and unwraps tangled wires from the barrel holding the Christmas lights so his helper can place them. 

“Something like that.” He hooks another light onto the ledge but it slips off. He frowns at it and it’s too ridiculously cute that Buck has to look away. 

“Okay, then. Since we’re here and we’ll never see each other again and you asked…” What can he say? What does he want to say? He didn’t actually think anything through and he never tells anyone about anything real or important. Maybe Maddie sometimes, but not often. She has enough of her own trauma to deal with. He watches the man clip on another hook and place another bulb and glance at Buck expectantly. And maybe there is something he can talk about. 

“Most people think I hate Christmas.” It’s small but it’s something. And it’s definitely not something he could tell Maddie. Christmas is her favorite. “A lot of things about the whole holiday season annoy me. There’s all the pressure around events and buying gifts and making everything perfect and spending time with family, and it’s only ever been another day to me. Even in my twenties, people liked to call me Scrooge and Grinch because I just. I don’t know. I was never raised with any religion or traditions or anything. My sister loves Christmas but we never… I only met her ten years ago. So I never really cared one way or the other about it for most of my life. All of my life.” 

The man stops hanging lights for a moment and looks over at him. Maybe he won’t think that sort of secret means anything. Maybe that’s part of why Buck chose it. But it’s more of his heart than he thinks he’s given anyone. 

Although… the way the man looks at him. It seems like he knows this or might understand it. Gently, he looks and gently, he says, “You never had a family. Or friends? Or people you love to spend it with?”

“I didn’t,” Buck shrugs. “But the thing is? I think the idea of it is nice. The sentiment of giving and kindness and peace and being with the people you love… I mean all of that is… It’s good. I like that part. When Maddie talks about why she loves Christmas, it makes me wish I could’ve had something like that. She had good Christmases with presents and fun decorating and making ornaments and cookies and watching cheesy movies and doing what she says are all the typical things. So, sometimes, when I hear about what it was like, I wish I hadn’t missed out. I wish I knew what it was like to enjoy Christmas.”

The man’s eyes are so deep and soft, Buck could swim and float and maybe never hurt again. He’d be weightless and protected. If all the warmth and gentleness in this man is true. But the man’s gaze goes somewhere and his face turns into a hard mask. “I had good Christmases. I had a lot of really good ones growing up. And I wish I could give that to my son. His mother also loved Christmas, and so he loves Christmas and I know he wants nothing more than to do all those fun Christmas activities and make those fun memories. And I wish I could give him that.”

Buck tips his head and wonders what changed, how it changed. “But you hate Christmas and everyone calls you Grinch, too, and now Santa will never visit your house and bring your son presents?”

The hint of something like a smile makes the corner of his lips curl ever so slightly. And wow, Buck did that. It feels unusual and unlikely and it’s infinitesimal, but it’s definitely there. “Something like that,” he says again in answer, then turns back to the ledge and their strings of lights.

#wip wednesday #jenwyn wip #fic: once upon a december #buddie wip #also I was going to make this G or T rated and then Buck was like fuck that have you seen him?? I'm THIRSTY 🥵 #*insert shrug emoji*