#just some warm up doodles from last night!

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on. 

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore. 

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return. 

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch.  You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls. 

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook. 

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said. 

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly. 

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you. 

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye. 

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?” 

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you. 

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other. 

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it. 

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed. 

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.” 

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way. 

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were. 

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head. 

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.” 

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time. 

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs. 

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.” 

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time. 

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology. 

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers. 

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him. 

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him. 

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter. 

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

 Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment. 

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you. 

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along. 

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs. 

“How you liking Kildare?” 

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously. 

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him,  “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?” 

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

[miguelhugger2099]

Punk!Miguel who’s proud of his tattoos. At least most of them. He has some professionally done and others were stick and pokes from when him and Gabriel were younger.

Punk!Miguel who watches you with a smile when you touch up and down his arm. He hides the shivers down his spine when your perfectly manicured pink and green nails rake across the art decorated on him.

“What’s this one?” You poke at a terrible done smiley face, it was a little blobbed but barely noticeable with the much nicer ones done around it.

“One of the first tries my brother did on me when he was starting out.”

“And you kept it?” You tilt your head with a scrunch of your nose. Miguel laughs.

“Sentimental value.”

You scoff. “No way.”

“Yeah, way.” He takes your hands and pulls you closer, lugging you forward onto his lap where you belonged. Getting yourself comfortable you placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you just gonna have them on your arms?” You ask, tugging down his shirt for a peek at any new ones. Miguel smirks and stops your peeking by tsking and shaking his head—a knowing look on his face.

“Course not but tattoos cost money, babe.”

“You should get one of me.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms that makes you seem snobbish.

“What? Like get one of your face?” He laughs and leans back on his hands.

“No! Like—I dunno! Something sentimental about…me?” You look away, feeling the prickling embarrassment crawling up your neck. “Never mind!”

“Oh, so you want to be on my body, huh?” He teases, taking your hand and sliding it under his tank top to feel his warm stomach, faint dips of abs.

“You know what I mean!” You whine, feeling frozen with him holding your hand in place. He can’t help but find you adorable. Letting go of your hand to come around your waist as he leans up again, one hand coming down to cup your ass. He swallows your squeak with a kiss, unable to stop himself from biting into your sweetness.

Punk!Miguel who—even if he teased you about it—actually adored the idea of having a tattoo of you on him.

Punk!Miguel who thought day and night of what could represent you. Flowers he felt was done often, your name was cute but basic and anything else could very well be mistaken for something else. He wanted something that was obviously you.

Punk!Miguel who was rearranging his room again, bustling through various boxes for some spring cleaning.

Punk!Miguel who found his box of memories from when you two first began dating. It had been filled with all your gifts and letters you’d given him—every last piece saved securely in the corner of his room.

He smiles as he opens the box up again. Some pieces of papers falling out and the little broken keychain you got to match with him until it snapped when he accidentally sat on it.

He sits at his desk, flipping through the pages and tiny plushies you’ve given him. His heart swelling at the swirls in your writing with blue ink—the bunny pen you always wrote with.

The smile on his face continues as he reads through your words of love for him—words that you often found too difficult to say. He slams his forehead on the desk, blush coating his cheeks and ears while he groans loudly.

Each letter you’d given him ended with a print of your kiss mark at the very bottom. Some of it was a matte red, others was a faint glitter stain, but most of it was a soft pinkish color. The kind that was glossy and gave you just enough color that it looked tinted and natural.

His finger grazes the mark, an idea popping in his head.

Punk!Miguel who goes to a tattoo shop he was very well acquainted with, with an artist he knew extra well.

He slams his arm on the counter where a man was behind it, sucking on a lollipop and doodling in his sketchbook. The guy raises an annoyed brow.

“Do you have any space open for a walk-in client?” Miguel asks with a smirk.

“I don’t have space for annoying ones.” He sighs and puts his drawing pad away.

“I have money this time, Gabri. Plus, family discount.”

Punk!Miguel who is both afraid and excited to show you what he’s done to himself. He feels his heart hammering while he preps himself to show you. He’d done the aftercare as precisely as possible, taking extra care of it because this was no ordinary tattoo.

Punk!Miguel that lets you take off his shirt when he tells you he’s gotten a tattoo of you.

Punk!Miguel who smiles with amusement when you gasp and hit his arm that you were joking before! That tattooing is a permanent thing! He tells you that he knows.

His heart stills when you eyes land on his chest. On his left side, where his heart would be was your kiss mark. Just like the ones you left on the letters you used to give him.

You touch your lips subconsciously, your other set of fingers hovering over his lifted skin. You look up for permission and he nods, brining himself closer.

You marvel at the piece of work that replicated your lips. “Oh, Miguel…” You sigh, blinking back tears.

“Are you getting emotional?”

“No!”

He brings you to his chest in a tight hug, your hand still resting beside your kiss mark now permanently etched on his person—a permanent reminder that he is yours and that he loves you.

#i need a cold cigarette to ease the pain #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #punk!migs

[marvelfilth]

Dookie the Matchmaker

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: mention of blood

Summary: She curses herself for forgetting to ask for your name, but she thinks it's better this way. She can't afford to get close to anyone. Not after Amber. Not after Quinn and Ethan.

Masterlist

Tara falls in love.

It happens slowly, gradually. At first, she doesn't even notice, just keeps sending you awkward smiles and brief glances, long enough to be considered friendly, but not long enough to make you question her.

She sees you regularly during her economics class - it was one of the electives, and Sam made some good points about choosing it, so she did.

You're never late, always showing up a few minutes early, taking your seat near the window and drawing doodles in your notebook.

Tara doesn't even remember when she first started noticing you, she just knows that one day she walked in and her eyes zeroed in on your seat, corners of her mouth curling up at the familiar sight of you hunched over the desk, chewing on your pen.

You're never absent, so when she was forced to miss one of the lectures she ventured to you, hesitantly asking to borrow your notes.

She keeps telling herself she did that because she is an outcast now, no one in her class is willing to talk to her and seats closest to her always remain empty, but honestly she just wanted to hear your voice and maybe see you smile at her, if she's lucky.

Turns out luck was on her side that day, because the smile directed at her was wide and inviting, and you gave her your notes without a question.

She curses herself for forgetting to ask for your name, but she thinks it's better this way. She can't afford to get close to anyone. Not after Amber. Not after Quinn and Ethan.

She convinces herself that the looks she regularly receives in the halls don't bother her. She pretends she doesn't hear harsh words muttered behind her back. She sits at the farthest table at the cafeteria with Chad and Mindy by her side, looking away when she feels people staring.

She can't ignore the shove she receives after she hurries away from her economics class.

She looks up and fights the urge to throw up.

It's one of Ethan's friends, all bulky, tall and angry. Other students walk by without a second glance, and his lips curl in a way that makes her shiver.

She takes a deep breath and looks him straight in the eye, straightening her shoulders.

"What's going on?"

You're the last one to walk out, looking between them in confusion, one hand in your pocket, the other on the door behind you.

He smirks and cocks his head to the side, and she really really doesn't want you to see this.

"Are you deaf?" You ask, more forcefully this time, and to her surprise you choose to stand by her side, your shoulder brushing against hers in silent support.

"Just want to have a little chat. You should leave." He jerks his head at you, but you don't budge, your eyes narrowing.

"After you, Matthews."

You look at each other for a long moment, and Tara's about to finally speak up, tell you to just leave it and go, when he scoffs and walks past you, shouldering you harshly.

You roll your eyes and make sure he leaves, before turning to her with that warm smile and kind eyes, asking if she's okay, offering to walk her home.

She shakes her head, whispers a quiet thanks and rushes away, not looking back.

Later that night she cries in Sam's arms. No words are said out loud, but she knows her sister understands, can feel it in the press of lips on her temple and the tears that disappear in her hair.

Next morning they visit a dog shelter and come back home with another family member.

The dog doesn't take well to strangers.

Mindy and Chad, who are now living with them, shriek when they first see their new pet, jumping on the counter when the Doberman starts barking loudly. In the end, Sam is the one to calm everyone down, because Tara is too busy wheezing on the couch.

It takes two months for the dog to get used to the twins and they complain the whole time. But even they can't deny feeling this new sense of security.

"Dude, she's so good." Chad rambles on and on about some girl days later, while Tara picks at her salad distractedly, her thoughts on you and the shirt you decided to wear today. It showed off your arms and she idly wonders if you play any sports, but doesn't allow her mind to wander further.

Mindy laughs loudly and shakes her head.

"I'm telling you. You should've seen her, she's crazy." He exclaims, gaining attention of nearby students.

He doesn't look away like Tara does, instead he looks them in the eye and waits, daring them to say something. They never do, because Chad is Chad. And Tara is… well, she's just Tara.

"Okay, we got it. Or do you want everyone to know?" Mindy chuckles, elbowing her brother.

Chad takes a sip of his water and grins proudly. "As matter of fact, yes, I do. She's amazing and everyone needs to know that. I think she's in one of your classes, you need to introduce us," he directs at Tara to which she shrugs, trying to hide her sudden interest.

You're the only person she notices, and if you're the one he's talking about she has no desire to introduce you.

If she could, she would keep you to herself.

She blinks, surprised by her own thought and quickly shoves it into the deepest corner of her mind.

She finally understands what he was talking about when she sees you during basketball practice, practically annihilating the other team. She gulps and pointedly ignores the looks Mindy and Chad keep sending her, her eyes on your lean body as you send yet another ball through the hoop. You smile when your teammate slaps your back good-naturally and send her a wink, making Tara swoon in her seat at the bleachers.

You don't notice her at all, your eyes never stray away from the court, your chest glistening with sweat, making the smaller girl lick her lips.

"Are you drooling?" Mindy smirks.

Tara rolls her eyes and doesn't grant a response.

She spends the rest of the day wishing that wink was directed to her.

When she sees Matthews again it doesn't go the way she thought it would go.

You burst through a door, looking ragged and breathless. Tara runs into you, your eyes widening in alarm before you quickly hide your hands behind your back, and Tara immediately tenses up, unconsciously taking a step back. A moment later Matthews walks out of the same door, his nose bleeding profoundly. He blanches when he sees you, and backtracks, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

You shift sheepishly and apologize for startling her, but Tara doesn't hear any of it, all of her senses focused on the way your chest rises with each breath, the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips in a nervous gesture.

Tara blinks rapidly and curses quietly. She mutters a lame excuse and almost sprints out of the building, away from you, away from her unwanted feelings.

That night Sam tells her something that makes her heart skip a bit.

"We can't live our life in fear. Maybe… maybe you should give them a chance. But not before I meet them, of course."

The words leave her with a warm feeling in her chest. She doesn't know how Sam found out, but she's grateful nonetheless.

The problem is, she has no idea how to approach you. It wasn't easy to come up and ask for notes and you were strangers then, she wasn't fully aware of her feelings. Technically, you're still strangers, but you've saved her ass multiple times now and all she's done is run. So yeah, no one can blame her for not knowing how to approach you after she so carefully avoided any interaction with you for so long.

It happens right after she steps out of her favorite pizza place after picking up her order.

One moment she has a tight grip on the leash, pizza box in other hand, and the next, her dog is sprinting like there's no tomorrow, easily tugging Tara behind him.

The brunette struggles to keep up, pizza long forgotten in favor of trying to stop her dog, both of her hands getting white from the tight grip she has on the leash.

"Dookie!" She shouts, trying to stop her dog. "Dookie, stop!"

With one last harsh tug from the doberman she is forced to let go of the leash, huffing and sprinting after the dog. She is already panting, and by the time her dog rounds the corner she has half a mind to call Sam and make her chase the dog down herself. After all, it was her sister's idea to get one.

There's a yelp right before she rounds the corner and she runs faster, almost bumping into the rough concrete, panic coursing through her veins.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees you.

"Hey, buddy," you say, giggling.

The leash previously held in Tara's hand is now wrapped snugly around your legs, effectively keeping you in place. Her dog, the traitor that he is, is jumping at you in joy, trying to lick your face.

Now that she's sure no one's hurt, she takes a moment to get her breathing under control and to observe her supposedly very scary guard dog making you laugh. She can't help, but be jealous of the way her dog so easily got your attention.

She thinks about calling Sam, or Mindy, or even Chad, because she can't do this. She can't walk up to you when you're looking so breathtakingly beautiful, laughing unabashedly, your eyes glistening in the sunlight.

But she has no other choice now, seeing you nearly topple over when Dookie decides to make another lap around you.

"Stop it!" she whisper yells at the dog as soon as she nears the two of you.

You look up, surprised, and blink, before a grin overtakes your features. You try to face her and realize you can't even turn when your legs don't move an inch.

She bends and picks up the leash, embarrassment painted over her features. "I'm so sorry. He's never done that before," she chuckles awkwardly and tugs on the leash.

You yelp when the movement causes you to trip and fall into her arms, and she catches you without missing a beat, holding you while you regain your footing.

Her dog barks happily from behind you.

"Sorry," you mutter, trying to pry away from the leash, but the dog doesn't move from the place near your feet, drool dripping over your shoes.

Tara's sure she looks positively horrified at the sight of your drool covered shoes, her face feels like it's been set on fire. She crouches in front of you and begins to unwrap the leash, and you try to help her as much as you can, much to the dog's displeasure.

"There. All done." She gets up, her eyes darting around the street. "I'm really sorry about this. Don't know what's gotten into him, he's never tried to kidnap anyone before." She realizes just how true the words are as soon as they leave her lips.

Dookie hates strangers. It took Chad and Mindy almost a month to even pet the dog, much less cuddle with him like old friends, which is what you're doing now. She hums in thought, barely managing to hide a smile.

Dookie's approval means Sam's approval.

You laugh, shaking your head. "It's fine. Seems like he just wants to play. You're Tara, right?" You look up, squinting from the sun and the sight almost takes her breath away.

Her face burns and she curses herself for not even giving you her name after all the times you've saved her. But it seems you don't mind at all, smiling softly and looking away like you don't want to pressure her into having a conversation.

She decides she's done being afraid.

"Yes. And you're Y/n," she mumbles, suddenly shy. "And this is Dookie," she adds, gesturing to the dog jumping at your feet.

You get up from your crouch, laughing. "Dookie?"

"Short for Babadook. It's my favorite scary movie." She looks away momentarily, tension taking root in her shoulders as she awaits your reply.

"I hate scary movies." You make a face, shuddering.

She exhales with a chuckle and looks back to where she came from. "Wanna go look for the pizza I threw somewhere down this alley?" She asks jokingly, but she really really hopes you'll say yes.

"I'd love to," you smile, a red tint on your cheeks.

When she comes back home with a spring in her step and a happy grin in place, Sam smiles knowingly and gives her a hug that feels like home.

#tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #dookie the matchmaker

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧.

✦ info: he's so, so in love with you.

✦ warnings: not proofread.

✦ featuring: jing yuan, gepard landau.

✦ notes: please do know i've done no research i only know bits and pieces of actual game lore these are simply self indulgent and silly Thoughts i'm having about them in the middle of the night <3 (i have no clue what this is i js think it's cute)

— smitten! jing yuan, who thinks of you all day, every day, while doing his official duties, while sparring with yanqing, while speaking with officials, even just before his afternoon nap.

(the strangest of things remind him of you: an oddly shaped rock takes him back to the time when you baked something for him, and the dew shining on a leaf brings with it a recollection of the sparkle in your gaze. it is almost as if you've claimed more than half the space in his head, stubbornly refusing to surrender it into the hands of his daily tasks.

well, he's certainly not complaining.)

— speaking of afternoon naps, smitten! jing yuan, who dreams of you while he dozes in the afternoon. he doesn't remember all of them, but he adores the warm, fuzzy feeling he wakes up with.

— smitten! jing yuan, who names one of his birds after you. he tries not to pick favorites, he really does, but there's just something about the way this little one tilts its head that reminds him so much of you, how can he not like this one the most?

(yanqing once caught him affectionately cooing at the bird with your name. he brings it up every game of starchess they play, hoping to distract the general from stealing another one of his pieces. jing yuan knows what he's doing though, and still ends up stealing a piece or two.)

— smitten! gepard, who writes letters addressed to you every single day while he's away. some he sends, some he keeps. but every single one of them is filled with all the things he thinks of telling you while you're not by his side.

(the ones he keeps are the sappiest, full of things he's too shy to say to you— about how he longs to return to your warm embrace, about how he wants to taste your cooking, about how he wants to lie in your lap while you pet his hair. perhaps one day, he'll find the courage to say them out loud?)

— smitten! gepard, who finds himself murmuring your name, over and over when he's idle.

(sometimes, if there's a tune running through his head, he sings out the syllables of your name, before catching himself in the act. he shakes his head at himself, red dusting his cheeks, but a tiny smile plays at his lips nevertheless.)

— smitten! gepard, who doodles your name (and perhaps a drawing or two) on a spare piece of paper whenever he's lost in thought. he'd never dare do that on official paper work, though, no way, none at all.

(except... one fine day, he ends up drawing one of his infamous sketches in the margins of a very important, incredibly serious, highly official report to the supreme guardian herself.

he only notices at the very last minute, right before submission, much to his mortification and relief. thank the preservation, he thinks as he redoes it, for—well— preserving his dignity.

who knows how much his sister would have teased him if she found out?)

taglist: @ilyuu @ineshapanda @supernova25 @kissedbysilk @vixianne

(bold = unable to be tagged!) please fill in the form in my profile to be added, and send an ask to be removed!

#—💡 #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x you #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan #honkai star rail #gepard #i'm drowsy rn but this makes sense to me #if it doesn't make sense in the morning #oh well

[riaki]

— the warmth of a home | satoru gojo x reader jjk0 setting w/ coparent teen megumi

wc: 2.2k cw: petnames, established relationship, ur megs mother figure, reader is referred to as they but u wear perfume not proofread!!

this was just meant to be a weekday blurb like the last but oops it turned into a full fic mb

"i'm home!"

your voice rings out as you step through the threshold of your shared home, a gentle evening breeze ushering you in as you slip your shoes off sore feet and hang your well-worn jacket up, scented flowery perfume and sweet smelling cologne mingling on the thick fabric.

it's cold out; autumn is setting in, the crisp leaves that signal the arrival of fall collecting outside your doorstep as the late weeks of october wave goodbye and usher in the first days of november, followed by a drop in temperature and thin ice that begins to crust over any wet surface.

the small hallway leads into a wide, open living room, with a corner of couches and a worn tv that hasn't screened anything in ages. there's a fuzzy throw blanket hanging over one of the couch arms, knit with patterns of cute little dogs, stuck with tongues lolling happily from their mouths. a potted plant that's clinging on to a thin thread of life you can barely sustain on the days you remember to water it sits on the coffee table, bits of soil speckling the edge of the warm clay pot as the lights overhead cast a soft glow upon the ceramic. there's a pair of black socks strewn across the tabletop- you make a mental note to give their owner a good scolding and maybe a physical touch fast for the night once you find him.

you set your bag down by the door, stepping onto the wooden floor as your feet make soft thumping noises when you cross. two pairs of keen ears pick the sounds up almost instantly, coupled by two, equally loud voices that compete for your attention.

"ah, they're back! hope they brought takeou— ow! megumi, don't yank so hard." satoru's voice comes from the bathroom, a little ways down the hall decorated with polaroids and doodles. it's promptly followed by a curt, "sorry." the words bring a smile to your face; that irritatingly singsong voice you love so much coupled by megumi's aloof and quiet.

you make your way to the door, a warm glow flooding out of the crack before you push it open wide enough to peek your head, catching a glimpse of the scene unfolding on the other side as you stifle a laugh.

satoru is propped on the edge of the bathtub, hunched to make his frame somewhat smaller and the top of his head accessible to megumi as he faces the wall, while the latter fastens a section of loosely-trimmed cream bandages over satoru's eyes, all too tight that it begins to cut into his smooth skin. there's a grimace twisting his soft lips (you know they are from constantly running a thumb over them) pink glistening from moisture under the soft daisy yellow light. megumi's hands are far too tight as they grip the strip of bandage, forcing satoru's tufts of white hair into a disheveled mess.

at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, both of them whip their heads toward the door, megumi all but ditching the task before him as satoru hooks the bandages beneath his chin with one finger, expression softening into that lovesick grin that makes your heart pump faster against your ribcage.

"welcome back." megumi hums, straightening up to brush past you. a silent agreement passes between the two of you— you'll finish tying the bandages for satoru, while he gets some homework done.

"thank you, megs." you laughed, giving him a quick ruffle of his smooth dark hair as he bumps shoulders with you, slipping past and walking into the hallway with a disgruntled mumble at the touch. "go easy on this old man next time. i don't want to deal. with a child for the whole night," you called, stifling a laugh when you see the exaggerated hurt expression that finds its way onto satoru's face almost instantly.

a distant sound of acknowledgement from megumi finds your ears as you turn around to face your very mature and handsome husband, who's still hunched over the edge of the bathtub with his arms folded over his chest and a faux crossed expression on his face. you take a few steps towards him before you sit down on the tub beside him, legs turned out to make use of the space as you turn your head to get a good look. there's a pout on his lips, not giving an ounce of thought towards being subtle in a way that's so very him. his sparkling blue irises peek out from beneath his long lashes, the color of the clouds in the sky that slowly begin to paint pale under the shine of the setting sun.

"hey, satoru. what's got you looking so down?" you chuckled, scooting closer on the cold rim of the tub to reach out. your fingers card through his hair and you almost swoon at the way he leans into your touch, like a cat chasing for chin scratches. you push the mess of hair from his eyes to press a lazy, slow kiss to his forehead, bumping into his side. as soon as your fingers touch the first square inch of hair on his head, his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you close like he's done so many times before.

"you're so mean to me, pretty. did you call me old?" he whines, the corner of his lips downturned as he buried his head in your shoulder for a moment before pulling away to stare down at you imposingly. you only sighed, stroking his hair as you watch his lips curve up in a poorly smothered grin, cocky and smug in a way that he knows makes you want to kiss away until only a little awestruck gape remains in its wake.

"of course not, 'toru. you know i love you too much to curse you with wrinkles." you hummed, taking in the sweet look on his face dusted rosy as he looks at you.

"i should hope so," he grins, and in one swift motion, you find yourself tucked flush to his chest on his lap, one of his hands snaking up your arm to pull you close as he catches your lips with his in a sweet motion he's been anticipating since the last clingy smooch this morning. he tastes like the candy you hid away in the cabinet in an attempt to stop his sweet tooth from plowing through the time before his next dentist appointment, and you add it to your mental list of things to reprimand him for.

for now, though, you let yourself indulge- let your hand trail up his chest and around his neck, feeling his pulse beneath your thumb as you lean into him with a sigh of contentment. he's warm, familiar, and stable in a way that you've only ever found comfort in, and he's fully aware of the effect he has on you when he pulls away, puckered lips pecking your cheeks with unrestrained affection as you laugh and bat him away.

he soaks in the moment for a bit until he speaks again, with a heave and a sigh that makes him seem far too worn out for a 27 year old. "help me out, love." he sighs, motioning toward the loose bandage around his neck that threatens to slip any moment. your hands are already moving when he speaks, taking up the bunch of fabric in your fingers to push his hair back and fasten it around his eyes. you mourn a little over the loss of the sight-- his pretty blue eyes tucked away behind a wall of necessity, hidden away from the world. your shoulders sink a little and you melt into him some as you finish tying the knot, making sure it's securely fasten before you move your hands away.

you're caught mid-motion, though- his hand shoots up to grab your wrist gently, thumb gently prodding at your pulse as he tilts his head into your other hand.

"'toru? what are you doing?" you asked softly, staring down at him from your vantage point in his lap.

"baby," he starts slowly, other hand snaking around your waist to press against the small of your back, warm and steady as he presses you close to him. "do you love me?"

you're surprised. most of the time, he never broaches the area of emotions out of the blue—it's an area of vulnerability he's still not quite ready for; not quite healed enough to approach. and you understand, so you never push him to talk.

"of course i do. that's why i'm here." you reminded him, gaze snagging on the way his teeth catch his lip and chew nervously. a fleeting thought enters your mind, and for a second you almost think he might put up infinity.

it's quiet for a moment, then, and you take the moment to size him up, appraising as the light from the window above filters in, framing his face in some sort of angelic light. he really looks ethereal, you think to yourself.

then, the silence is broken.

"enough to buy me takeout?" he offers sheepishly, all apprehension vanishing as that easy smile creeps over his lips again and he clasps your hands in his, lithe and calloused fingers enveloping yours to dot your wrist and knuckles with little kisses.

you blinked, before rolling your eyes, laughing that sweet laugh he only ever teased to hear from you as you wriggled free from his grasp, sliding off his lap and standing up again before he could trap you in a hug again.

"no, satoru. but i'll make dinner with megumi and save some for when you get back. does that sound good?" you offered, looking down at him expectantly.

he smiles at that, swinging his legs over the tub to stand as well. he's tall, almost comically so— looking quite out of place under the fluorescent lights amidst pastel shampoo bottles. your eyes drift to the sink, where two bristly toothbrushes are tucked in the same cup, and you smile.

"anything made by you is great, sweetheart." he says with a cheeky grin, reveling in the soft flush that stains your face as he walks closer, cupping your face in one hand and leaning down to kiss the side of your head affectionately. he catches a whiff of your perfume, and his smirk only widens. before he can do further, though, someone clears their throat from the other side of the door, and you turn around to catch sight of a head of spiky black hair, an unamused look on his face as megumi eyes the two of you.

"why are you still here?" he sniffs, peering up at satoru with a frown. the latter just chuckles, reaching over to aggressively mess with his hair, leaving it even more disheveled and out of place as an angry protest leaves megumi. satoru skirts just out of reach of an irritated jab, throwing what you think is some sort of charming wink from beneath his white bandages at the two of you.

"seeya, love. hold the fort down while i'm gone." he calls, already halfway to the door. his steps echo in your ear as you just smile, opening the bathroom door and stepping into the hallway as megumi slides up to your side, a sour expression tugging at his lips. "don't let the rascal upset our haven." said rascal makes a face.

"be safe," you said softly, hoping he caught your unspoken wishes in those two words. judging by the way he paused at the door before hurrying back to your side to pepper you with four departing kisses— one on either cheek, the tip of your flushed nose, and on your lips-- he took the caution to heart.

"you're so cute when you worry, love." he chuckled, his laugh like a spring of rejuvenating running water that filled you with life. he took a moment to take you in again— hair slightly messy from the wind whistling outside, the tips of your ears a pleasant red and a look in your eyes he could only describe as adoration.

"don't worry. i'll always come back to you."

and with that, he was gone.

not for long, though. eventually, he'd return home to a lone kitchen light flicked on, spreading warmth onto the table below. he'd come home to the same heart-warming scene he had so many times before— slipping his bandages down his face, taking his jacket off to spread it from one of your shoulders to megumi's— you'd fallen asleep together with the window open, a chilling evening breeze filtering in as the pages of megumi's homework fluttered in the wind, frustrated scribbles smudged against the crinkled paper underneath his elbows as he slept. you were by his side, too— cozy and exhausted, soft little breaths leaving your lips every now and then. times like this brought him a simple joy; the happiness of having a home to come back to, a family with handmade dinner gone cold on the table as it waited for him, a trio who could support one another and provide the love that each person had been missing.

there would never be anything he'd want more than this simplicity.

he ends up dumping megumi on the couch before carrying you bridal style towards your shared bedroom.

extra: u and megumi cook pasta tgt :3

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize!

#in other news furina banner drops today #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #I DID NOT WRITE THIS WHILE LISTENING TO CHRISTMAS MUSIC WDYM >: #i dont know how to write for winter stuff bc i live south #im officially tired of writing gojo cus i cant get him right. megs n geto next!! #gojo fluff #billet-doux #this probably won’t be the last of jjk0 gojo cus that bandage blindfold is growing on md #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[solarmorrigan]

steddie and 💗 for the kiss ask game!

Hello! Thank you for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one <3

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Prompt from this post

-

If anyone asks, Eddie will say he prefers to work while standing because he thinks better when he can move around.

And this isn’t a lie; whether he’s crafting a campaign, working on a new song, drawing, or doing some writing, he has a tendency to get up and pace, or to run to grab something for a reference, or stand and try acting something out to see how it rolls, or– well. His desk chair doesn’t really see a lot of use.

So it’s true that he thinks better while standing; it’s just not the main reason he prefers it.

The main reason is that he happens to be a night owl, and his boyfriend—his beloved, his one and only, his baby—is a horrible, horrible morning person. Which means that he tends to go to bed earlier than Eddie. Which means that when Eddie works late into the night, eventually–

“Hey.” A warm, familiar weight drapes itself across Eddie’s back, arms coming up to circle his waist, the voice a sleepy purr in his ear as a chin rests on his shoulder.

“Hey.” Eddie smiles, tilting his head to the side just enough to bump it against Steve’s. “What’s up?”

Steve hums, the sound sighing out of him as he leans further onto Eddie. “It’s late.”

“Yeah?” Eddie glances at the clock; it’s just gone midnight, which isn’t that late, but he’ll play along. “Guess so.”

“I think I’m heading to bed,” Steve says, pulling back just enough to press a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, before tucking his chin right back where it had been.

“So is this goodnight?” Eddie asks, pressing back into Steve a little.

“Mm,” Steve hums again, more contemplative than in agreement. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“You gonna stay out here with me, then, sunshine?” Eddie teases, and Steve leans a little more heavily against him in retaliation, just enough that Eddie has to readjust his stance so he doesn’t topple over into the desk.

“Bed’s cold without you,” Steve says, predictable as ever. “You should come with me.”

As if Steve isn’t the main reason the bed is warm when they’re both in it; Eddie’s own personal space heater.

“But what if I’m busy?” Eddie asks, nudging Steve with his elbow.

“Are you busy?” Steve asks.

And it’s an honest question, Eddie knows; if he tells Steve ‘yes,’ then Steve will let him be and he’ll head to bed on his own without any hard feelings. But he’s really just been doodling for the last half hour, and he doesn’t mind the idea of being convinced to follow Steve.

“I guess I could find a place to stop,” Eddie hedges.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, turning his head to press a few more kisses up the side of Eddie’s throat.

They’re slow, sleepy, gentle things; not leading anywhere, really, just affectionate. In spite of that (maybe even because of it), they still make goosebumps pop up across Eddie’s skin.

“For you?” Eddie says, wiggling around in Steve’s hold until he can turn enough to face him. “Anything.”

Steve’s bright smile paired with heavy-lidded eyes is probably one of Eddie’s favorite things.

“You’ll find a place to stop your super important doodling, just for me?” Steve asks slyly, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

Busted.

“Just for you, baby,” Eddie says anyway, leaning in for a quick kiss that really ends up being more of a brush of smiling mouths.

“Well,” Steve says, his gaze warm and pleased, like Eddie’s done something great (the way he always looks at Eddie, the way Eddie will never, ever get enough of), “lucky me.”

#starryeyedjanai #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddiesteve #back to my roots: all fluff no substance #actually I think my roots might be contrived hurt/comfort scenarios but that's for tomorrow 👀 #solar wrote #answers from solar #long post

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

E like enigma

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles August warm-up round. Prompt: college AU.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Secret admirer, not actually unrequited love, no UD AU

"Oooh," Robin croons and hands him a book from the stack of returns. "You've got another!"

"Oh yeah?" 

Steve's stomach does a funny little flip, but he tries to keep his tone casual. He fails. Knows it. Knows that she knows he tried, and knows he failed. Robin wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

"C'mon, have a look! What does it say?" 

Steve steals a glance at the part of the college library that's visible from their desk. As is to be expected on a Friday night, there aren't many people around. Just some students frantically studying for exams or pouring over last-minute papers.  

Robin nudges him impatiently. He sighs and flips the book open.

The name scrawled at the bottom of the lending card in narrow, scratchy handwriting is the same as always. 

E. Munson 

As always, there's a sheet of cheap notebook paper tucked next to it, folded in half. 

The first time this happened, Steve didn’t put much meaning to it. Students will use all kinds of things as bookmarks. Candy wrappers, restaurant bills, hell, even a condom wrapper on one particularly noteworthy occasion. (Robin gagged so hard at that one she had to excuse herself to the staff room for a solid ten minutes.) 

So, the first time he emptied the returns box and found a note in one of the books, he assumed E. Munson had simply forgotten to take it out.

There was a little heart doodled on it, and the words You’re really cute underneath. It had to be from E.'s girlfriend or boyfriend, surely. Steve wondered if they'd miss it.

Ever since, the notes have gotten more specific and, lately, more and more frequent. Some will compliment his hair or his clothes or his smile. Those make him preen a little, even though he denies it to Robin’s grinning face. Others are soft and thoughtful, telling him to drink enough water when it's hot outside, or asking if he's resting enough when he's stressing over exams. Those make him feel a different kind of happy - all warm and fuzzy and light. 

The books with the notes only ever show up on Steve’s shifts, and only ever in the returns box. Whoever E. Munson is, they're pretty damn sneaky. 

They're also driving Steve low-key insane. Because the notes are lovely, don't get him wrong. He kind of already has his eyes on someone else, though. Even if it's silly, even if he's sure nothing will come of it …

Robin is looking like she's about to explode with anticipation, so he sighs and folds the note open. 

Wanna take you out for drinks after your shift. Meet me at the back entrance? 

*

The back entrance is illuminated only by one dim streetlight and he is a little sorry he turned down Robin's offer of standing guard around the corner. There's a lonely figure standing just outside the keg of light, smoking a cigarette and- 

"Oh. Hi, Eddie." 

Eddie looks up at him and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile. And maybe it's the lamplight or the foggy air of the early fall afternoon, but his face looks uncharacteristically soft. 

"Steve, hey. Hoped you'd show up."

"Y-yeah?" Steve stutters, stomach swooping with something that's half joy and half horror. 

See, the thing is, he likes Eddie. They're majoring in different subjects, so they've only had two or three classes together. Hell, he doesn’t even know the guy's last name. 

They've talked a few times, though. Maybe even flirted a bit. 

But he has no delusions about this turning into anything more. The flirting and the furtive glances over the tops of textbooks are one thing, but there's no way that Eddie - with his rings and his leather and his chains and his unruly mop of dark curls that Steve itches to bury his hands in - would actually be into preppy ex-jocks in pastel colored polos.

Still, Steve can't help but feel drawn in by Eddie’s quick wit and smart mouth, that bold bark of a laugh. Not to mention his smile. How the corners of his eyes crinkle with it. How it makes a gentleness poke through that intimidating facade that Steve would like to learn more about. 

He's smiling like that now, and Steve feels his heartbeat quicken and has to bite back a curse. Just his luck that Eddie would show up now, of all times. Now that the mysterious note writer is actually making their move and Steve has decided to try and give them a chance. 

"Erm, listen man …" he starts to say. The collar of his sweater is suddenly too scratchy and too warm on his skin, so he reaches up to tug at it. 

Eddie hums and the smoke of his cigarette mingles with the fog. 

"Yellow suits you, y’know? You should wear it more." 

And shit, if that isn't exactly what one of the notes said, only last week. Steve screws his eyes shut and heaves an aggravated sigh. 

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, I'm sorry Eddie, I really am, but this is kind of a bad time? I'm meeting someone here and-" 

"Ah, the elusive E., right?"

Steve nods. "Right. They'll probably show up any-" 

And wait. 

Wait. 

Hold on a goddamn, motherfucking second. 

He never told Eddie about the notes. 

When he opens his eyes to gawk at Eddie, that smile has turned about one-hundred-and-twenty-three percent more smug. 

"How do you …?" he starts to say. 

One of Eddie’s eyebrows disappears under his fringe. 

"Steve?" 

"Yeah?" 

There's a beat of silence. Something slots into place, and- 

"Oh." 

They both snort matching laughs as Eddie swoops into a bow and offers his hand. 

"Eddie Munson, at your service. Now, are you still game for those drinks?" 

Steve is. 

The next time Eddie slips a note into his returns, he drops the books off in person. 

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic #my writing #steddie drabble #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[nanaminis]

“i think forever would be nice with you.”

synop. kunigami wants to be with you for life.

tags. fem!reader (called ma’am once), fluff fluff fluff, uh a bit of angst if u really really really squint, reader is a tease and kind of a pessimist (or maybe a realistic idk up to u), kunigami is head over heels, dont ask when this would happen in canon bc idk, not proofread

note. ngl im tired asf... if this is incoherent, im sorry. the ending is vv awkward, mb. uhhhh man idk what else to say kunigami is the sweetest boy alive. this is inspired by one of those timtok slideshows, the one thing that app has done good forme

you flop back on the sand, chest heaving up and down from trying (and failing) to race kunigami. sweat rolls down the side of your face and neck, and you can feel the gritty sand clinging to your bare feet and legs.

“tired?” he plops down on the sand beside you and reaches for your hand. his larger, thicker fingers intertwine with yours, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to comfort you after your shameful loss.

“very,” you huff out. your lungs burn as you gulp down air. “how do you— how do you do this every week?”

he shrugs. “habit. started when i was kid, found it fun, so i kept doing it. helps me stay in shape whenever i don’t wanna go to the gym or just need some time alone.”

his free finger doodles the face of a polar bear in the sand. you smile — it’s cute how he knows how to draw that from memory.

your eyes roll to look at him. his face is shiny with sweat, and the pale moonlight softens his features, giving kunigami almost a boyish look.

there’s no one else here. just you, kunigami, and the sounds of the waves lapping against each other and the shore. the beach is clean, too. not a crumpled beer can or a plastic wrapper in sight.

“does anyone else even know this place exists?” there’s that familiar teasing lilt in your voice, but he knows you’re serious.

he scratches the back of his head. “nah. i mean, there’s the occasional fisherman or maybe some elderly couple, but i don’t think anyone our age knows about this.”

“huh.”

a pause, and the warm breeze blows across your skin, dusting the sand away.

you grin. “so you’re just gonna gatekeep this for eternity, huh?”

“what? no!” you can practically feel his cheeks heating up from here. “i didn’t wanna ruin it by bringing the wrong people here, y’know? they might trash it or somethin’.”

“and what if i trash it?”

“you won’t.” kunigami’s reply is instant, the words shooting out of his mouth and into the night’s atmosphere. “you’re special.”

whatever goofy reply you had on your tongue instantly melts, and you’re pretty sure your heart skips a beat or two. how can he say such romantic things so... so casually?

“i, uh...” he sighs and goes back to tracing shapes in the sand, his hand still holding on tightly to yours. “you wouldn’t do something like that. even if you did, i’ll be right there to clean it up.”

you push yourself up so that you’re sitting criss-cross. your entire body is facing him now. “but what if we break up? or you move away?”

“i won’t. we won’t.”

your brows knit together. “rensuke, you don’t know that.”

something is bound to happen. something always happens. nothing good lasts forever, right? he’s in blue lock, dedicating weeks at a time to train and play in tournaments to be the world’s best striker — at some point, he’s going to have to choose. you or his football career.

even to yourself, you sound pessimistic. but you just have to be honest with yourself. life isn’t a fairytale, despite kunigami being your knight in shining armor.

“i want forever with you.”

his gaze meets yours, determination burning in auburn irises. “i’m not gonna sit here and lie to you or be embarrassed about it, ‘cause it’s true.”

you blink, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs.

kunigami, your boyfriend of two years, wants forever with you.

it’s ridiculous, fantastical, a hundred other synonymous terms. both of you are seventeen — you have decades and decades ahead of you to decide when you want and who you’re going to spend forever with.

and he chose you.

his adam’s apple bobs, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “do you want forever with me?” his grip on your hand tightens.

“yeah.”

you don’t have to think about it. there’s nothing to think about it. it’s dumb and unrealistic, sure, but when has kunigami ever broken a promise? when has he ever lied to you?

it doesn’t take decades of being together to know that kunigami loves you with all of his heart, and you love him just the same.

your lips curl into a smile, and you can’t tell whether your vision is getting blurry from happy or sad tears. “i want forever with you.”

“okay.” he adjusts himself so that, now, both of you are facing each other. his shins touch yours, and his other hand grabs yours.

“‘okay’? that’s it? after you basically just proposed to me?” you raise an eyebrow. “with no ring, either! you could’ve gotten me a ring pop.”

kunigami chuckles, the tension seeping out of his bulky form. “sorry. i’ll get you a ring pop on the way back.”

“two ring pops, actually, and they better be the right flavor.”

“yes, ma’am.”

#﹒writing #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock kunigami #bllk kunigami #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #kunigami rensuke #kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #kunigami rensuke x reader #kunigami rensuke x you

[pathetic-sapphic]

Hello! Been obsessed with all your work, thank you for feeding the arcane simps🫠 would you consider doing the arcane ladies (vi, jinx, sevika, grayson, mel) caring for r in subspace? I know you already did general aftercare, but I was thinking about how sweet and soft they’d be when you’re extra sensitive and vulnerable like that and just ahhh

VI knows this is normal but that doesn't stop her from being so worried about you. Always careful about what she says and does. If you let her, she'll gently hold you in her arms and whisper praises into your ear. Likes to tenderly caress your hair and press kisses against the top of your head. If you're feeling particularly vulnerable or tear up, Vi immediately shushes you and reassures you that everything is alright, you're safe here with her.

Shhh, you're alright, baby. It's okay, I'm here and I'm not leaving you, okay? You don't have to answer that, I know you're tired. It's alright, you can sleep, I'm not gonna leave. Rest for a bit, sweetheart, you deserve it and I'll be right here when you wake up, okay? Good, always so good for me, sleep tight.

Although JINX usually has a hard time being still, she's ready to do anything as soon as she sees the unfocused look in your eyes. Quickly realizing you've gone into subspace, she bundles you up in your comfiest blanket, puts your favorite drink on the nightstand and curls up next to you. She'll latch onto you like a koala if you're okay with touch and she'll ramble about anything and everything while gently caressing the bruises she left on your pretty body. If you're up for it, she will draw on you with body safe marker, doodling cute flowers and writing praises on your skin.

Oh, toots, I can see by that look in your eye that you're already far gone. It's okay, no worries! I'm here and I'll take good care of you, you're safe with me baby! I'll hold you allll night long if that's what you need, you don't even hafta ask! Hey, how about I paint this pretty canvas of yours even more? I have some nice ideas as long as you don't mind. Good, I'll show you just how much I appreciate you and how good and beautiful you are for me.

If you're up for it, CAITLYN prepares a nice, warm bath for the two of you. She'll have you sit on her lap, gently wash your tired body and give you a soft massage. Loves knowing how safe you feel with her, especially when she feels how relaxed and pliant your body is. Whispers praises into your ear and pecks your cheek every now and then. She will hold you and draw patterns on your back with her fingers, lulling you to sleep. Afterwards, she'll dry you off and take you to bed, telling you one last time just how proud of you she is and how you were so so good for her.

Darling, how about we take a bath? It'll help you unwind and after what I just put your poor, sweet body through, you'll need it. Don't worry, I'll carry you. Just relax, be good and let me take care of you, alright? There, that's my good girl, just relax, I'm here. Feel free to doze off, darling, I'll wake you up once the water starts getting cold. Afterwards, you'll need to drink some water and then we'll cozy up and fall asleep together, how does that sound? Good, just close your eyes now and rest. I love you so much, my dear.

SEVIKA's number one priority is to make you feel grounded and safe, so holding you on top of her body seems like the best option. She has you laying on her chest, knowing that hearing her heartbeat calms you. She'll share bits and pieces of dark chocolate and sips of water with you, making sure you're doing alright and aren't feeling hurt in any way. She knows her words and actions can seem rough in the heat of the moment, so she makes sure to give extra praise and cuddles afterwards, especially when it affects you like this.

There, lay on top of me, sweetheart, I promise you're not heavy at all. Put your ear against my chest and relax, I've got you. You were great just now, you know that? Made me feel so good and you were so obedient for me, I love seeing you like that. You're perfect for me, you know? I don't ever want you to doubt it, you're my darling girl. Now, are you hungry? Here, I brought some chocolate, just be good and let me feed you, alright? You're adorable, baby.

GRAYSON is the softest and most gentle lover you'll ever have the pleasure of being with. She is very caring and attentive so she picks up on your situation quickly and is already taking care of it. First she makes sure you aren't hurt or too sore in any places, next she makes you drink some water and then holds you in her arms until you come to. She is honored to have your trust like this, Grayson knows that it can't be easy for you to feel so vulnerable in front of her but it makes her love you even more. Let's you wear one of her shirts as she knows her scent calms you down and keeps you grounded. Softly caresses your cheek and waits until you're more focused after which she prepares a bath for the two of you.

Are you alright, darling? I didn't go too hard on you did I? You know I could never forgive myself if I hurt you, I hope you won't feel too sore tomorrow. Don't worry, I already took a day off so we'll be able to relax as much as we want and I can carry you around if you wish. Drink some water, good girl. I have some sandwiches waiting for you once you feel better, but not before we take a bath. Don't worry, I'm here for you, beloved and I'll take good care of you, okay?

MEL knows she can be a demanding and strict lover, so when she sees you go into subspace, she makes sure to do her duty and be there for you. There's an array of snacks and drinks next to the bed, as well as a steaming bath just waiting for you. But before that, Mel wants you relaxed and satisfied, so she makes sure to rub some lotion into your pliant body while showering it in kisses. Her gaze lingers on each bruise she left, hoping that she wasn't too hard on you. As much as she loves hearing your whimpers and begging, the last thing she wants is for you to be hurt. Kisses the shell of your ear while whispering sweet nothings and softly brushes her fingers through your hair. A soft smile adorns her face from seeing your blissful expression. She adores you and wants you to know that she thinks the world of you.

Does that feel good, sunshine? Yes, I thought you'd like the smell of this lotion, it's the same one that I use so you get to smell like me. I'm sorry, you know I cannot help wanting everyone to know you're mine. I know you don't actually mind, you love the idea of people seeing my claim over you, don't you? Maybe I should get you a collar for next time- Oh! Forgive my silly ponderings, darling. There's no need to be shy, you know I love to tease you. Now, are you hungry? How about we eat and then go and take a bath together? I'll wash your hair for you if you want.

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane vi #vi x reader #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn x reader #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #arcane grayson #grayson x reader #arcane mel #mel medarda x reader #requests are open

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

Smallville Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

JT Tag List:

@sleepyqueerenergy @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @jc-winchester @fromcaintodean @deanbrainrotwritings @jackles010378 @akshi8278 @rachiem4-blog @waters-2567 @jessjad @sweettimelady @iprobablyshipit91 @leigh70

@clinicallydepresso @lokigirl666 @xiphoidbones @rominaszh @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

#Miss Professor #Assistant Hottie Sequel #Jason Teague #jason teague x reader #jason teague x female reader #jason teague x you #jason teague fics #smallville #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #lana lang #smallville clark kent #clark kent #zepskies writes

[fariesoiree]

hiiii it's my birthday and I was wondering if I could get a birthday hobie x reader?

hi pumpkin! first off, happy late birthday i hope you had sooooo much fun. so sorry i couldn’t get this to you on your actually birthday. i wanted to, promise! i just had a lot to do but here you go <3 celebrating your birthday w hobie. i’m hoping this makes it through tumblr bc my last drabble about rengoku is not showing up on the dash but it’s on my acc if you’re interested — hoping this is what you wanted | mdni, black fem coded reader, unedited

birthdays came up early in your relationship with hobie, especially considering his came a few months before yours. you found out rather quickly that he’s not a big fan of making the day a holiday.

of course, he’ll smile and plant a sweet a kiss on your two-toned lips when you, eventually, pull a tiny, gift wrapped gift out hidden — somewhere new every time — and set it in his hands. you do it every time, even hen he says he doesn’t want a single thing, and it’s always a relatively cheap gift so he doesn’t make a fuss about it. last year, it was a little necklace set from hot topic, modeled after the coraline movie’s stone and key — only $7.95 and thankfully, on sale.

however, your birthdays are different.

they’re important to you and therefore, important to hobie. he cherishes them, staying away from your affection all day while he prepares his boathouse for your arrival. he’ll get balloons and candles for mood lighting, he’ll go to the grocery store and pocket a box of cake mix and whipped icing, he’ll use the sprinkles from the night before. hobie will even chop up fruit and melt chocolate to dip them in later, following the creamy pasta he’s cooked for dinner just in case you didn’t feel like indulging in something as sweet as cake, that night.

that’s not dessert though. the real dessert comes after cuddling on the couch and soaking in the praises that fall from your lips between kisses until your lips are swollen and sheened with saliva. every year, he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom, where he forces you to close your eyes upon stepping through the door way. you can’t know where his hiding space is. you’re too curious and would end up investigating it in secret later on.

this year, hobie managed to get you the demonia camel-311’s. how he had gotten him through his unconventional methods is unknown to you but you don’t ask, too busy fawning over the smooth, vegan suede beneath your fingertips.

“oh my god, hobie. what the hell?” you say, seated on the end up his disheveled bed, eyes round in grateful astonishment.

hobie’s has always been . . . clean but not tidy. he knows where everything is and you understand that he has a system. the random stacks of albums littered around the room never bothered you, nor did single wall covered with painted doodles parallel to the bed you sit on.

“you like em’, bug?” he drawls, showcasing his prideful smile full of teeth as he watches you go through the motions to react to his grand gift. “i’m mates with this guy who sells em’. looks like something you’d like.” hobie doesn’t bring up the deal he made to do some manual labor instead of paying such a pretty penny for these shoes.

you head rise and falls in a little nod and you set the shoes on the floor, reaching inside to pull out the brown-gray stuffing paper to keep the molding of the shoes.

this persists for a while, your gushing and prattling over the platform boots, warm and perfect for the winter. it’s all a routine part of the night, something you’ve expected — not because you knew what gift he was going to get you, but because he always gets you material gift before and something a little more after.

the after is what you both know you’re really looking forward to, after all the events that slowly passed throughout the night.

“oh my god, hobie!” it’s the same words from earlier but this time, said so much differently. it’s whiney, airy, and provocative. you can’t help it, the sound forced out of your mouth with each snug smack of hobie’s heavy balls against the brown globes of your ass, part of which glisten with the watery cream of your past two orgasms.

hobie plucks your hand slotted against the soft outlines of his abdominal muscles on his stomach. he grins, strained, and rests your palm against his chubby lips. “you g - got it, pretty.” he mumbled into the warm skin of her hands, words muffled on their way to your ears, not that you’re paying attention anyway. “ ‘s your dick, yeah?”

anything he says just comes across as faint buzzing humming in your head. your legs have begun to shake and twitch, muscles stretched and pushed up to your ears. your cunt is on full display, in its brown and chubby glory, squeezing around the length of hobie’s cock with the intent to milk him dry.

your back has long begun to arch off the soft mattress with a balled hand repeatedly making soft contact with his shoulder. you’re struggling to withstand it, writhing beneath his hold. you’re sure you would have wiggled away and up the bed had he not had you anchored in his grip. you’re struggling but you love it, finding yourself delirious with the lust that comes with being fucked within an inch of your life.

“can’t,” you hiccup, tugging at your hand encapsulated by his. you want to draw it back and push him some more but he won’t let you, overpowering your strength with his own. tears form in the outer corners of your eyes and roll down the sides of your face.

you’re rewarded with a firm smack on the chub on your round butt, leaving a stinging sizzle that has you jolting with a gasp. another wave of waterworks comes forward in your eyes. you want to sob but the ability is ripped away when hobie digs his fingers into your mouth, as many as he can until no more can fit and drool is pooling out the corners.

“you’re, god, lyin’, pet. hate that,” he pauses, pressed entirely into your sopping wet cunt, eyeing you with disdain. his fingers press against your soft tongue, eliciting more drool to pull in your mouth. he tilts his head at the sight of you, twitching and eyes blown out.

he can still feel your pussy pulsing greedily, begging for more, and he chuckles, pulling his slob covered fingers out your mouth and taking ahold of your thighs again. “you always say that but you didn’t use your safe word so i know you’re lyin’.”

you sort of just warble, feet dangling in the air. your toes, painted a pretty pink gel polish, curl and straighten with each movement hobie makes, even if it’s just him leaning forward.

“gonna tell me i’m wrong?” hobie’s voice drops into a whisper. he’s close enough for his lips to skim across your cheek, breath warming the surface of your skin.

he’s pleased to see a small shake of your head. “no,” you’re telling him wordlessly, round eyes staring right into his more slanted ones. you’re lucky he’s considered being sweeter on such a day of celebration.

“no? then you’re gonna quit your whinnin’, right?” his hand comes to plant on the round crest of your head, flattening your scalp, frizzy due to the physical activity he’s put you through.

your leg goes to circle around his slim waist, locking his body to yours. “mhm . . . ‘m sorry, ‘bie.” you’re much softer now, more pliant without the constant push and pull inside your sensitive cunt. your circle your hands around his cheeks, brushing your thumb across the smooth, seal brown skin across his face.

the corners of his mouths lift; he finalizes your gentleness with a sloppy kiss on your mouth, wrapping his tongue around yours and sucking it into his mouth. there is stringy saliva connecting the two of you. his hand atop your head serves its purpose when hobie finally begins to move again, thrusting deep in your cunt. it keeps you right where he wants you despite your wriggling.

his other hand supports his weight, jumbling the sheets between his fingers. his head falls onto the bed beside yours and you have a front row seat to the groans and pants he exudes, lost in your body.

every year when your birthday comes around, hobie picks you up, bring you to his house, and showers you in love and affection throughout the night. he makes dinner, lights your birthday candles, and watches any movies of your choice.

every year, he surprises you with a gift he had planned for months and pulls it from his super secret hiding spot. he soaks in your flattery with a grin until you’re done and putting the new gift to use.

and every year, you both wrestle in the sheets, naked bodies connected at the most intimate parts as the air grows thick and heavy with lust. he kisses you through your whines and cries, forcing blinding white orgasms out your body until you’re exhausted and tapping out.

#⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 . . . 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 . . . 𝜗𝜚⋆ #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

[sagencelestient]

My boyfriend Scaramouche!

Genre: Fluff? Character: Take a guess.

Your eyes flutter open, stretching your arms out as you wake up. What time was it? You'd check that eventually. You close your eyes and roll on your side, facing where your boyfriend, Scaramouche is. You grab a plushie from the side of your bed and hug him. He was warm, and cozy right now. You never wanted to get up. But you had to, eventually. Damn cruel world. After a while, probably around half an hour, you kiss him, turn away, open your eyes, and sit up.

"Ah... good morning Scara!" you announce, checking your phone for the time. 12. Shit. It was late, and you had classes. After changing, you say goodbye to your boyfriend and rush out of the room.

Thankfully, you didn't arrive at your classes late. You take a seat and begin doodling on a piece of paper. You didn't really have any friends here. Not only this, but this place assigned so much homework.

You really hated being here, but you really had no choice. You imagine Scaramouche wrapping his arms around your neck, comforting you. You imagine him kissing your neck as he says "It's okay y/n... You'll be home soon, and I'll be there with you~"

You blush, putting your head down for a moment as the teacher takes up the homework assigned a few days ago. You hated that you had to be away from Scaramouche for a while, and you hated that you had to do so much homework because of these classes, but it... was fine, you supposed. As long as you would be reunited with him later.

After hours of class, you caught a small break. You had some time, but not enough to go home, so you go to a small local cafe nearby, buying lunch for yourself. You'd get something for Scaramouche on your way back home too.

As you went back to your classes, you thought about what Scaramouche would want. Definitely something bitter. Maybe tea? But you already had tea. You wondered if you could maybe find some bitter candy, as you know he hated candy but liked bitter things. You were curious as to how he'd react to it. Would he like it? You decide to search for "bitter candy" on your phone, secretly, during class, but all your search engine came up with were sour candy brands. How sad. Maybe you should get him some black coffee?

The class you were in right now was only 2 hours long, and you were halfway through it. However, it did feel like an eternity. An eternity away from your mouchie. You doodled little sketches of him and you in your notebook. Sure, you should probably be listening to the lesson, and you were, partly, so it should be fine.

"All right, that's about it for today," the teacher spoke, "if you have any questions, feel free to stay for awhile to ask me. If not, you are free to go."

Finally! You think, grabbing your stuff and leaving the classroom. You decided to buy him dark chocolate. It was bitter, right? Bitter, and a good long-ish lasting snack. You also decide to pick up some tea and black coffee for him, if he didn't like it.

You ride a bus to get home, excited to see your Scaramouche. When you open the door and look around, however, he wasn't anywhere.

Oh, right. He probably went to work, or maybe he had something else to do. You sigh. You supposed you'd just have to wait.

You decide to take a shower, as it was hot outside and you did sweat during the day. You wanted to smell good when you cuddled with him at night! So you did just that. You thought up some cute things you two could do as well someday!

It became darker and darker outside as you scrolled around on your phone. You put your phone down, lying down and sighing as you imagined Scaramouche with you, sitting on the inside of your bed. But of course, he wasn't there.

You just really wished he were real.

#genshin impact #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #wanderer #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #this is literally me lmaoo #i wanted reader to commit the death but idk what tumblr likes n I want likes </3 #Celestient

[moni-logues]

Hi there, pretty Moni!

If it isn’t too much to ask, may I please request a professor Yoongi x female college student reader piece?

For the genre, hmmm. Surprise us, maybe? 🤭🥹

Thank you very much, eonni. ☺️

okkkkkkkkkkk

SO, I am not super comfortable with a professor/student dynamic so I have done a peer tutor type situation; hope that is ok! I really don't know if this is anything, tbh, but I'm really just trying to leave the tap on to get the rust out!! So thank you for this request; I hope it at least in some way satisfies!

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: acquaintances-to-?? dating? maybe?? tbc lol; college/uni AU

Summary: Your university forces you to be tutored to bring up your grades; your tutor is the quiet loner from class whom you begin to realise you should have noticed long before now.

Word count: 1.2k

Content: none to warn for, unless you have traumatic memories of philosophy essays lmao

Kant or Won't?

You pushed through the heavy library door with a sigh. It was a beautiful day – one of the first of the year. The blossom was budding on the trees; the grass was dry enough to sit on; the sun was bright and warm overhead. You were heading into the dim, crowded world of studying on a Saturday.  

You only had yourself to blame. You knew that. One too many parties and too few essays written. You knew you had to try harder. What you didn’t know was why your school was mandating tutoring. It wasn’t that you didn’t know things! You didn’t struggle with the material; it was the sitting down and focusing on it that was the problem. How a tutor was supposed to help with that, you didn’t know. You did, however, want to stay at university so you accepted your fate.  

The peer tutor service had told you which private study room was booked for your session, but when you peered in through the door window, you assumed there must have been some sort of mistake.  

“Uh, it’s Yoongi, right?” you asked, tentatively as you entered the room.  

He looked up and nodded. 

You knew Yoongi. Well, you knew of him. He was in your philosophy group. He contributed only when forced to and you had never seen him chatting to anyone either before or after seminars. You assumed he was just some kind of loner loser guy and that was really the first and last you ever thought of him. You didn’t notice him and no one else seemed to either.  

It surprised you that he would volunteer to do this: meet with lazy, unfocused students to bring their grades up. It wasn’t exactly socialising, but it was social. It would involve talking to people. Strangers. Maybe even people he actively disliked. 

You sat around the corner of the table from him and pulled out your notebook, full of half-finished sentences and scribbled notes from lectures. The edges were black with doodles and your first clean page was the one right next to where you had snapped and written ‘FUUUUUUUUCK’ in huge capital letters. You tucked that page to the back and readied your pen. 

“Just so you know,” you started as Yoongi opened his textbook, “I’m not actually like, dumb. I’m fine with the material; I just hate doing the essays, y’know? I’m just too lazy to get around to it, so then, when it’s the night before deadline, I just have to write any old shit to get it done. You know how it is, right? Procrastination nation.” 

Yoongi looked at you, thoughtfully, and it was the first time you’d ever really seen his face. It was nice. He was kind of good-looking actually. You wondered what sort of life he had off-campus. Maybe he just didn’t like the people at school. Maybe he had other friends. A partner? Not that you cared, but you thought, now that you were really looking at him, maybe he could have one. Not bad at all. 

“Lazy?” he asked. 

You nodded, expecting him to say something more. He didn’t.  

“Ok, well...” You spoke for him. “I guess we’re supposed to get my essay on Kant done?” 

You flicked through your notes to see if you’d taken any while Yoongi still just looked at you.  

“What are you views on Kant?” you asked.  

“What are your views on Kant?” he countered.  

You wondered if it was a test. You’d told him you knew the material; it was only reasonable for him to ask for proof.  

The directness of his gaze made you feel a little flustered; the focus of his attention unwavering in a way you found unsettling.  

“Um, well, ok...” 

* * * 

“Guess what I’ve just done,” you demanded as you walked into the private study room two weeks later. 

“What?” 

“I’ve just submitted my Kant thing!” 

Yoongi didn’t look surprised, but he did look pleased. You felt a genuine sense of pride, swiftly followed by an embarrassed guilt that you should feel so proud of something that thousands of other people did with ease every day.  

“Wow,” he said. “And the deadline isn’t for three whole days.” 

“I know!” 

“How do you feel?”  

You didn’t want to tell him how pleased with yourself you were. You knew he had submitted his last week. You didn’t want to let him know that you were pathetic enough to feel a genuine sense of achievement over what you’d done. It was minor. Embarrassingly minor.  

“Good, I guess. Nice to have it out of the way.” 

Yoongi nodded.  

“That’s really great.” 

He smiled at you and you smiled back. If you got a good grade for this essay, you wouldn’t have to come back for tutoring. That alone had almost made you not complete the essay. Yoongi’s presence was soothing and something about being here in this room with him made it easier to focus. You liked studying with him. He mostly kept to himself and let you ask questions when you needed to. It didn’t really feel like tutoring at all, to be honest. He was a study buddy, not a teacher.  

You were surprised how much you enjoyed it, actually, when it really got down to it. Without the screaming panic of a deadline just hours away, you had more time to focus on the content, think about the topic, read about it, dig in. You remembered why you had chosen philosophy in the first place. And, when prompted, Yoongi would talk to you about it, too; your views were often the same, but not always. He was smarter than you, but not by much. 

You met frequently, first in short bursts, then in longer and longer sessions that you often found yourself wishing would last longer. Yoongi was good at sticking to the topic, pulling you back around when your conversation veered into general chat or something irrelevant, which you did more and more each time, because he was nice to talk to, he was interesting; you wanted to know what he thought and what he had to say.  

You also still didn’t know if he had a partner. 

*  

“Aha!”  

You cornered Yoongi in the classroom before he could escape, thrusting your essay into his face. He took it from you and eyed the grade in the corner with a smirk. 

“Well done, you.”  

“Nailed it, mate!” 

“You did.” 

“This means you don’t have to tutor me anymore.” 

He laughed softly. 

“It’s not like I really ever did anything. You said so yourself: you know the material. You never really needed me.” 

Something about that made you feel sad. You had needed him. You would not have been able to do it without him, if all your past experiences were to be relied upon.  

“Well, actually...”  

You had been working up to this. It was the perfect opportunity so you had just been waiting, waiting for your grade, waiting for this open target. 

“I was kind of hoping you might have some time to talk over the next one with me... Not formally, as a tutor, but just... y’know... Like, as a classmate. Or friend.” 

Yoongi blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh, yeah. Yeah ok.” 

“Cool. I’ll, um, text you or something and we can set up a time?” 

He nodded. There was a tiny stretch of tension between you, held for just a moment, before he stood from his seat and you straightened up, readying to walk away.  

“I’ll see you... soon, I guess.” 

“Yeah, soon.” 

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #min yoongi #suga x reader #suga fanfic #yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfic

[differenteagletragedy]

heya! i loved your ol:ba headcannons, and i saw your post asking for requests, so i thought i'd sneak in here and ask for some more? have a wonderful day!

Sure, this is fun! And you too!

-- Baxter and Derek LOVE each other. Baxter would eat him up with a spoon. It doesn't matter if you end up with Derek and then reconnect with Baxter, if you end up with Baxter and introduce him to Derek, or end up with Cove and they meet at the wedding, this is the bromance we need to be talking about.

-- I thought about this because I was playing the wedding DLC last night and when you call Derek to ask him to be in the wedding party he answers "Hi, this is Derek," like yeah buddy, this isn’t 1999 on a landline, I know exactly who I'm calling. It was so cute and polite and formal, so I thought about Baxter's old texting style and how adorable it would be for them to communicate, then boom, they are best friends.

-- Baxter thinks Derek is the most charming person in the entire world, and he appreciates how well he was raised. He likes that he always opens doors and pulls out chairs. Derek does all the old-fashioned gentleman stuff too, like he always makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, if you're cold and he has at least one stitch of clothing on, you're getting it, and Baxter thinks that just so nice.

-- This isn't unique at all, but I like to think that you do all three Step 4s -- so regardless of romance, you go to your moms' anniversary with Cove, spend Father's Day with Derek, and meet up with Baxter at the wedding. So even if you end up with Derek, you make friends with Baxter again, and can you imagine planning a wedding with Derek when you and Baxter are solid buds? I love it so much.

-- One more one more -- Baxter and Derek making friends and Baxter going over to the Suarez house for events. Nicolas is OBSESSED with him, he's such a weirdo and plus Xavier likes him so that's an automatic win. But Derek's parents take Baxter in too, and now he's got a place to spend Father's Day and it just makes him feel so warm and cozy.

-- Is there another guy in this series LOL

-- There's at least a 90% chance that you cut Cove's hair for him. If you reeeeeally aren't comfortable with it then obviously he won't force it, but it just makes sense to him for you to trim it up for him when he needs it so he doesn't have to make it a whole thing. If you don't do a good job, that's ok with him -- you tried your best and he loves you for it!

-- Do you and Cove have a kid? Cove is that kid's doodle pad, and he gets at least one tattoo of a lil baby drawing your kid did. You might have to convince him not to do it every time. He loves that baby more than anything and the thought of having a little piece of them with him always, ugh, he really likes that.

-- Baxter loves cats and wants one very badly but he does that whole thing for a while where he doesn't feel like he deserves affection from any other living beings, so you'll have to talk him into it. But when you do, that cat is his child.

-- I'm not saying Baxter is in danger of turning into a crazy cat lady, but you might want to keep an eye on it.

-- "Baxter, did you spend $500 on this fancy robot litter box?" "Yes."

-- Baxter (I am currently on a Baxter kick, sorry) references magic several times throughout the story. Honestly I don't really know what else to day about this, but I think it's really sweet and important that he talks about it more than once.

-- Both Cove and Derek canonically like it when you wear their clothes, but Baxter likes to wear yours. It doesn't matter if you're smaller than him or if you wear traditionally feminine clothes, he wants in them. they smell like you and remind him of you, especially if you're long distance in the beginning after Jude and Scott's wedding. He's not going to like go out in them, but he'll wear your hoodie around the house for sure.

-- This also isn't like a hot take I don't think, but none of the boys ever change, ever. Like they grow and stuff, but if you're with Cove, he's going to be clingy and have heart eyes for you when you're 80, and there literally will not be a day that goes by for the rest of your entire life that he doesn't tell you that he loves you -- guy is going to be on his deathbed and blushing when you tell him how you feel about him. Likewise, Derek is going to be Derek forever -- always just so so excited to be with you. Hope you can handle literal decades of "it's Derek Day." Baxter does have a lot of settling to do, but please imagine a 90-year-old man smirking at you and giving you those flirty little lines. He'll never stop.

#our life beginnings and always #olba #olba mc #our life #baxter ward #cove holden #derek suarez #olba cove #olba baxter #olba derek #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #baxter x you #baxter ward x mc #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x you #cove holden x you #cove holden x reader #cove holden x mc #derek suarez x mc #derek suarez x reader #derek suarez x you #our life headcannons

[bowieandqueen11]

Dating Eddie Munson Would Include...

Request: I’m so excIted for the Stranger Things season four stuff!! Can I please request some headcanons about what dating Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) would include, please? thank you so much!

I love this man so much so thank you!!

Warning: slight NSFW!

If you enjoy, please help me out by leaving a comment!

(I do not own Stranger Things or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @omralbum.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Eddie Munson is... a lot to deal with, in the best way possible. (Baby boy I’m so sorry for saying that about you ily so much I want to wrap my little goblin man up in a blanket and bonk his head fondly I’m going insane.)

I don’t know, I just feel like Eddie would have known you forever. Both in the physical sense, with you only being a few years apart in school, but also that kind of ‘man I’m living in a dream, this is my soulmate and I’m just a dork standing outside life looking in at nirvana’ kind of way.

The first day he met you, he was too nervous to say anything. Instead, he just turned a blooming red all over his face and neck, latched one of his homemade bracelets onto your wrist, and then ran back into class.

The two of you have always been fast friends since then, but sometimes he would confuse you. Looking back, you were just too young to understand why exactly Eddie Munson would keep looking up at you like that. With that tilted, wide wonderous brown eye look and tense jaw. Sometimes, when you’d go out with a little snotty nosed Steve Harrington (the good ol’ days before he was a cool babysitter) you’d follow Steve’s scrunched up nose and confused head tilt to find Eddie sitting over by himself near the swing set. He’s stopped doodling in his journal, but instead ducks his head and buries them deep into the pages to hide his blush at getting caught by you. Or, he’d be skating back home after school ended, and as he fist bumped you goodbye he would always turn around to give you one last last look before he zoomed off down the boulevard - one warm eyed smile that seemed to burn like sun tinged clover as the sun crested behind his head.

So PHEW man, when he was finally in High School and only a few months away from ‘graduating’ for the first time, he finally mustered up the courage to pour out all the words that have been stuck bouncing around his brain and choked up in his chest over the last lingering years. It was a dank, dusty looking kind of autumn night, one’s where Eddie took his mind off all the revision he was not doing by going out and playing gigs to empty bars. Even with only a few drunkards stumbling about the stools, and even if the place reeked of ammonia and smoke, he could feel his heart pound along to the drumming of his friend when he spotted you slip in through the back doors, coming to cheer him on. When you grinned and waved awkwardly up at him, he finally seemed to understand what true happiness must feel like.

When he drops his beloved guitar and runs down off the stage once the set is over, everything finally just comes blurting out from the pit of his stomach like some frenzied hurricane of messy nonsensical noise. 

I’ve got to be honest, dating him isn’t the easiest hill you could have chosen to run up in your life, but it’s by far the most important one you’ll ever choose to take.

He comes to pick you up and drive you both to school every. single. day. My man is impatient (not to get to school, he couldn’t care less about that. It’s just been over seven hours since he last saw you and he’s literally vibrating in his seat), so either be out of the house before he arrives or be ready to try and calm your angry parents when Eddie comes skewing up the road with his hand slammed on the horn. Be prepared as well for him to shove the passenger door open and immediately lean over the gear box to make out with you for a hot minute before you’ve even had a chance to sit down properly. Even though he’s just had his tongue slipped between your lips, he always acts like a flustered little field mouse when he pulls away and smiles at you. He’s such a cutie pie - still nervous and all shy when he leans down and pulls a bag of croissants out from under his seat that he bought you for breakfast.

I mean, you spend half the time eating it, and half the time taking a bite and then shoving it into Eddie’s face so he can share it with you while he’s driving, but you always appreciate the sentiment.

I mean, like... you HAVE to be part of the Hellfire Club right??? Eddie couldn’t bear it if you were away from him that long, so honestly despite how heated and intense the roleplaying sessions can get, they’re also pretty sweet at the same time. Mainly cute looks from Eddie from behind his manual, throwing you heart filled side eyes any time you roll the die. Or, when someone else is deciding their turn, you see a slight grin tug on the side of Eddie’s lips before you feel a thump against your foot under the table. He can’t help the way his chest starts to shake with laughter as you begin to play footsie hard enough to shake the table, even if he’s pretending to be all official and looking straight ahead at the game. In the end, Mike’s had enough and pretends to fake gag at the two of you, which usually ends with Eddie steamrolling his character with a terrible event in revenge lmao.

But by GOODNESS seeing you in one of their Club shirts??? My man will literally roll his eyes back in his head, stagger back into the lockers and clutch a hand over his heart before he falls to his knees pretending to faint every time he finally sees you in the corridor between lessons. Hearing you laugh always makes him burst into those sweet, high-pitched and hair swirling giggles, and that’s all he wants out of life. The sound is the most magical feeling in the world, and suddenly everything seems to make sense as he looks up at you with that bright smile and eyes near bursting with all the love the Universe can barely contain.

He’s definitely a full body kisser - the kind where he just grabs you by the elbow as you pass by in a blur of warmth, cups your cheeks as you turn to look at him in surprise, and kisses you silly. The kind where his back completely hunches over so you’re all encompassed by him, and his cheeks are so smashed against your own while he presses his plump lips against yours that you swear you can feel infinity. And then the little cheek will just swagger off to his last period as if nothing happened. You can always catch him looking back at you with a proud smirk and the softest ass eyes you’ve ever seen, despite his cocky strut.

Eddie pretends to be all confident 24/7, but honestly he struggles to play properly with his band unless you’re there with him. He feels like you’re his lucky charm, the one good thing in his life gifted to finally get his life in order (86′ is his year baby!) Mainly though, he just likes to show off to you during band practice, prancing around the stage and doing very dramatic twirls and reckless looking headbanging to make you laugh.

The two of you usually sneak off to hang out in the forest behind the school, once you’ve finished eating lunch with the rest of the Hellfire Club. With his arm around your shoulder, the two of you saunter off and away into the welcoming mists. He puts up a nonchalant façade as the two of you chat familiarly and warmly, but you know deep down that the things people write about D & D, the way other students whisper about the devil behind his back do get to him. This is the time of the day when he allows his softer, gentler side to come out to you - a rose blooming in the dirt in spite of the thorns. Do NOT tell anyone though, otherwise he gets all flustered and hyped up about it, but he does like to come out here to the outskirts and sit with you on the bench for a while. It’s always an intricate ritual, one well known but well versed so he can feel safe for a while. He starts by placing his head on your shoulder while he’s talking, and then a few moments later you can wrap your arm around his shoulder. Then he collapses sideways into your chest, and you just sit there hugging him for as long as he needs, rocking back and forth every so often.

On the days when he’s feeling brighter and more revved up due to a mixture of the excitement of starting a new campaign, and the continuous revelation that he’s here!! With you!! With you!!! he’ll shove you down onto the dirt before collapsing down beside you. Lying hip to hip and forehead to forehead, he feels more calm and at peace than he ever has in his twenty years of life. Putting his hands behind his head, you lean up to rest against his elbow as he makes up stupid stories about the shapes of the clouds. He always ends up turned to face you, though, his larger hands gingerly caressing the top of your arms as he bops his nose against your own fondly.

These are the kind of times when he likes to invent up these big, grandiose and ostentatious plans about how the two of you are going to escape Hawkins... move out somewhere on the coast, where he can become a tattoo artist, or perhaps a science fiction writer, and the two of you will be happy and free forever.

Some people think he wouldn’t be much into PDA, but my boi is HUGELY into it. He’s constantly got his hand resting on your knee under the lunch table, before biting his lip and trying not to smirk as he hears your breath hitch from where he’s gripped your thigh. Or when you’re cleaning up after the latest campaign has ended, he likes to pull you against his chest and drag you away from your very disgruntled and head shaking friends. He likes to rest his head on your shoulder, burrowing in like a puppy searching for treats, looking up at you from behind his fringe with a dopey smile and lightning struck eyes. He adores it when you play with his curls - Eddie will give exaggerated shivers and fall backwards onto the floor, curling up in laughter and gazing at you as if you hung all the stars in the sky.

He always gives you his jacket when he walks you from his car back to your doorway after school. He tightens his hand on your shoulders and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead when you try to shrug it off and give it back to him. He winks and walks off, shouting behind his shoulder that it ‘looks way hotter on you than it ever will on me!’ He’s a strangely observant man, so he always does small things like this if he thinks something’s wrong or that you’re uncomfortable in any way.

This trait has nearly got him in trouble many, many times. Mainly due to the fact that any time you’ve had a falling out with someone, or the usual jocks are being rude to you due to your association with the freak Eddie Munson, he climbs up onto the tables at lunch and starts shouting across the hall at the person. Dustin manages about half the time to grab his leg and pull him back onto his seat before a teacher grabs him by the collar and gives him yet another detention.

On the weekends, when he’s at band practice and you’ve chosen to spend some time hanging out with your other friends Steve and Robin at ‘Family Video’, he’ll come sneaking in all innocent looking before sliding up to the counter. He’ll pretend to be busy looking at the snacks for sale, before overplaying the way he taps Steve’s shoulder.

‘Excuse me my good sir, I’m looking for the perfect move to impress the hottest, most badass person in Hawkins. Big plans, you ask? Why if you must know, it’s for me, I’m the hottest-’

The sentence ends with him earning a shove in the ribs from you.

He gets quite lonely, being all by himself at the trailer while his Uncle’s out working nights. So, he rings you up and promises that if you come over right now (the night before a class test, may I add), he’ll cook dinner for you. And, to be fair... he kind of does? But he also manages to cook the fringes of the kitchenette curtains, burn half the counter space, and set the bottom of the cabinets on fire. You end up managing to wrangle a very fed up sounding Steve into picking up and driving over to drop off a peperoni pizza to the two of you, before spending the night cuddled up on his bed watching the absolutely terrible movie he picked up at said movie store mentioned earlier. He cannot keep his hands to himself, though, man is so fidgety. If he’s not distracting you by crawling onto your lap and trying to kiss you through the bracket of his arms, he’s sliding his palms under your legs and trying to flip you over to straddle him. He’s spending the night climbing over your body like a sloth going wild, until he’s finally comfortably latched on and has fallen fast asleep. By the time the end credits roll, your legs are completely asleep due to the weight of his own on top of them, and he’s snoring with his nose pressed against your cheek.

Sometimes he’ll wake up for a moment, eyelashes fluttering open to a strange tickling sensation on his skin. Turns out, you’re just letting him sleep, silently running your pointer finger over the outline of his tattoos in the hope of soothing his dreams. When he looks down and notices the bracelet he gave you on the first day of school still roped onto your wrist, he nearly starts crying against you.

When poor Chrissy Cunningham gets... well, he’s almost surprised to find you lifting up the boat tarp and immediately falling onto him to wrap him up in the tightest hug your body could muster. He starts weeping into your neck, his own arms holding you in so tight a vice you fear you may burst right there and then. He was just so afraid - not of the cops, or that the town might think he’s a murderer, but that you would believe the lies they were spreading about him and never want to see him again.

You refuse to leave him. So, while the others go out to get the shattered looking man some groceries, you just sit with him for as long as needs. For a few hours it’s just the two of you on the boat dock, sitting side by side with your knees pressed up against your chests. He’s still too shaken to speak properly, in full sentences without choking back a sob. Every time his mouth blubbers open, and he turns to you with those misty, terrified wild eyes, you just grab his hand and squeeze it gently as you rest it on your knee. Every time his bottom lip starts shaking, and his breath hitches as if he’s about to pass out, you cradle his face and coo at him about how everything is going to be alright, and you’ll never ever leave him again. He burrows those words into his heart like a man desperate for air, leaning slowly forward to press a shaky kiss against your lips. He refuses to pull away, instead simultaneously pressing his forehead against yours, gasping for breath as he tugs your hand to hold against his heart.

Something had drawn the two of you together for as long as either of you could remember, and you would be damned if the wolves of Hawkins or some damn curse was going to rip you apart when your lives were just beginning.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #st #st imagine #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction