#not to mention all the other shit that's going on like. not to pity myself or anything but things have been so hard and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andvys · 8 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 6

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finally gets the answer to a question that has been haunting him for days.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @belokhvostikova remember the ask you sent me about the idea with the denim jacket? I had to include it in this chapter, so thank you hehe <;3

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Steve’s phone kept ringing all day, since the early morning hours. He doesn’t know if it was her or his mom, he didn’t bother to get up and check. At some point, the doorbell rang twice, he didn’t get up to open it either. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to see anyone except for you. The thought of you just made him cry harder and made him feel more pathetic about himself – he kept reminding himself that it was him who fucked it all up.

He never felt such self hatred for himself the way he does now. All day, he laid in bed thinking about you and all the things that happened that led him here, getting drunk at a bar he used to hate, wallowing in self pity while he knocks back one drink after the other after throwing his fake ID on the counter.

How will he keep going?

Steve downs his fourth drink of the night and slides the empty glass over to the bartender, asking for another one.

The man gives him a look of concern, eying Steve for a moment.

“Just.. please,” Steve mumbles.

The bartender sighs, shaking his head, he mumbles something under his breath but still, he picks up the bottle and pours the whiskey into the glass, “you’re getting water after this one, son.”

“I have water at home,” Steve says. He reaches for the glass and slides it back towards himself. He leans his elbow on the counter and looks around the mostly empty room. Some rock song is playing in the background, one he doesn’t recognize. There’s a heavy cloud of smoke in the corner of the room where two men are sitting, laughing at some jokes that probably aren’t funny as they smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer.

The door opens and in walks the guy that is probably one of the most irritating people at Hawkins High – to him, at least. Steve bites back a groan when their eyes lock. He turns back around, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he sees him walking towards the bar.

“Hey Tony.”

Steve lifts his head a little to see the Bartender smiling.

“Hey Ed, how’s it going?”

Eddie drums his fingers against the wooden counter, he looks around the room, “good, uh, have you seen my notebook? I’ve been looking for it everywhere but I can’t find it – I even cleaned out my van, can you believe it?”

Tony chuckles, “was about time you cleaned out that thing, boy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, snorting, “yeah, well I’m busy.”

“With what?”

Eddie pretends to think as he raises his brows and looks up at the ceiling, “well, working my ass off so I don’t have to repeat senior year again, I recently found a good tutor,” Eddie smirks, “got myself a muse to help me write the song texts,” Eddie wiggles his brows, making the older man laugh, “working on a new campaign. Oh and of course, how could I forget, comforting the broken hearted – you know, just the usual,” he shrugs as his eyes flicker over to Steve for a moment.

“What a busy man you are, Eddie,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. He throws the towel on the counter, “I’ll take a look in the back.”

“Thanks man,” Eddie smiles, watching him disappear in the hallways. He turns his head to look at Steve.

“What is King Steve doing at the Hideout?”

Steve turns to face him and Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “damn, you look like shit, man.” Eddie says. Taking in the puffy eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he almost feels bad for him. His hair looks messy, not as perfectly done the way it always is.

“Get lost, freak.”

“Always the douchebag,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns away, he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, swallowing the bitterness.

“Are you pre drinking for the dance tomorrow or are you just drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you finally realized what a piece of shit you are?” Eddie asks. Not being able to hold back.

Steve frowns, he turns to face him. There is something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve can’t read.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks. Not understanding the anger that is directed at him. They never liked each other but they never attacked each other either. Steve avoided him, he never had the jock’s back when they bullied him but he never really did anything about it either.

Eddie looks at him for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it. He sighs and looks away but Steve keeps staring at him. A weird feeling takes over him when he looks down at the jacket Eddie is wearing. His heart stops and his face pales.

It’s that jacket. The one that has been in your room all week. It’s just a normal dark denim jacket, it could just be a similar one, he tells himself. But the Metallica pin on the sleeve is the exact same one that he had seen on the jacket in your room.

Eddie smells like cigarettes and weed, the cologne that he can smell even from a distance is the same one that he had smelled on you. Realization floods through him in a cold wave.

Eddie Munson is the stoner Billy had talked about?

Eddie Munson is the guy you have been seeing?

How did you even meet him?

You never even talked to him when you were still with him.

“You got lucky, Ed,” Tony says, holding up Eddie’s notebook, “you gotta take better care of your things.”

Eddie chuckles, feeling relief. He takes the notebook and sighs, “I know, I know,” he mumbles and steps back, “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Tony.”

“Tell your old man to come by too.”

“Yes sir,” Eddie salutes, grinning at the older man, he takes another look at Steve, who stares into blank space as he holds the half empty glass in his hand. Sighing, he turns around and leaves.

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and picks out a fifty dollar bill. He throws it on the counter and puts his wallet back into place, he grabs his jacket and makes his way out of the bar, following Eddie.

“Hey! This is too much, kid!”

“Keep the change,” Steve mumbles before he stumbles out into the cold. He clumsily puts on his jacket. The cold air hits him harshly and he suddenly feels much tipsier than he did while he was in there.

Eddie stands by his van, the notebook is tucked under his arm, his hand is cupped over the cigarette that is between his lips as he lights it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out to him. He stumbles through the snow. He blinks, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes.

Eddie turns around to face him, a curious look residing on his face. He blows the smoke into the other direction and leans against his van.

“What do you want, Harrington?”

Steve stops in front of him. The wind feels harsh on his skin, not even the thick jacket does anything to shield him from the cold. How Eddie is able to walk around with a denim jacket and not freeze to death makes him wonder.

“W-Where did you get that jacket?” He asks. Not knowing what else to ask now that he stands in front of him.

Eddie stares at him with a serious look on his face, eyeing him up and down. “Why?” He asks. “You wanna buy it?”

Steve furrows his brows, he shakes his head, “no?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Steve’s mind is a little hazy, he feels more drunk than tipsy, right now.

“You’re the stoner.”

Eddie raises his brows, his dark eyes flash with amusement and confusion, “the stoner?” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. “They usually call me a drug dealer but sure, I’m also a stoner – sometimes.”

Steve shakes his head. “A-Are you with y/n?”

Eddie tilts his head. “With y/n?”

“Are you hooking up with her?” Steve asks, angrily.

A knowing look takes over Eddie’s expression. He pulls back and sighs in annoyance.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable girls. And not everything is about sex,” he glares at him. He feels irritated by Steve and by the way he looks so confused about this revelation.

“Then what is it about?” He slurs. Throwing his hands up.

“Jesus, you’re a real douchebag. Is that all you think about? Sex?” He asks. “Can’t two people that like each other just be friends?”

The look on his face tells him no. For some reason, Steve can’t comprehend that thought. How can Eddie be your friend and not want you? He always wanted you. Ever since you were little kids. He always loved you. He always wanted you to be his – until he didn’t.

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he throws the cigarette into the snow and walks away. The sound of Steve’s keys jingling makes him halt in his tracks though. He closes his eyes, annoyance rushes through him. He doesn’t like Steve, he never did and after what he did to you, he started liking him even less but you are his friend and you still care about him. He takes a deep breath and turns around.

“Put those keys away, dude.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles. Looking up in confusion.

“You’re not driving home like that,” he says. Pointing to his drunken state, he watches Steve trip over a small pile of snow. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve laughed at him. “Get in the van, I’ll drive you home.”

Steve looks at his car, knowing he is in no state to drive himself but he refuses to get into a car with Eddie Munson.

“I’ll walk.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you let the freak drive you home.”

It’s not about that, it’s about you.

Steve looks at Eddie, who stares at him in annoyance.

“Get in the car, dude. She’d kick my ass if she knew that I let you drive home like this.”

Steve looks down for a moment. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He puts the keys back in his pocket and opens the door, careful not to slip on the icy ground, he looks down and gets into the van.

Eddie jumps into the driver's seat and closes the door. He throws the notebook on the windshield and puts the key into the ignition, startling Steve with the loud music when he starts the car. He scrunches his face up and turns down the volume, “shit, my bad.”

Steve’s heart is pumping in his chest, sighing, he opts to look out the window after putting the seatbelt on.

“Your music sucks.”

“The audacity you have, Harrington,” Eddie scoffs. “Here I am being nice, inviting you into my van and you dare to insult the best music that there is!” He says dramatically.

Eddie hits the buttons, turning on the radio instead, Heroes by David Bowie starts playing, “here, just for you, King Steve.” He snorts. Not knowing that this will turn out to be a bad idea. Steve tenses up when he hears the song but Eddie doesn’t notice, he is too focused on the street as he backs out of the parking spot.

The song takes him back to last year, back to you.

“If you had to give us – our relationship a song, which one would it be?” You asked him as you sat on his lap.

“A Song?" He asked, chuckling.

You nodded with a smile on your face as you looked through your new polaroid pictures that you have taken with him in the snow. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and tightened his grip on your waist.

“Uh– probably, Heroes.”

“By David Bowie?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded, humming. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you, you placed the polaroids back on the table and turned to face him.

“Isn’t it sad though?”

Steve shrugged, not thinking as deeply as you did.

“He sings,” you cleared your throat and looked at him shyly. “And you, you can be mean,

and I, I'll drink all the time. 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day. We can be heroes for ever and ever. What d'you say?”

Steve was smiling at you, his heart was fluttering in his chest and you, you were blushing by the time you were done singing.

He poked your waist and leaned in to kiss your cheek, giving you one of his rare soft moments. “Exactly, he sings ‘we’re lovers’.”

“You are not listening to the rest of the song, Steve!”

“Then keep going.”

“No,” you giggled.

“Please,” he whispered, pouting. “I love your voice.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. You kissed his cheek and began to sing again, clearly loving the sweet moment between the two of you when he watched you with soft eyes. He cleared his throat and picked you up, laughing at the squeal that fell from your lips, he leaned in to steal a kiss before he placed your feet on the ground. He grabbed your hairbrush from your desk and held it up to his lips.

“I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.” He sang.

You giggled and walked backwards as he began to walk you towards your bed.

“Though nothing will drive them away. We can be Heroes, just for one day.” He furrowed his brows as he tried to remember the rest of the lyrics. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, “and we kissed, as though nothing could fall.”

“You forgot the rest of the lyrics–” he cut you off with his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled your body so close against his, he could feel your heartbeat.

Now he feels his heart breaking in his chest.

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe it’s just a combination of both that makes him break down in Eddie Munson’s van. Startling the man who was bobbing his head to the music until he heard Steve’s quiet sob. Stopping at the red light, he furrows his brows and looks over at Steve.

“Uh– you good?” He asks. He feels a little stupid to ask him that, clearly, Steve is feeling anything but good. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and presses his lips together. How does he comfort a man that he doesn’t even like?

Steve cries softly, the shame isn’t there yet, right now, he doesn’t care that he is crying in front of Eddie who could tell everyone that King Steve broke down in his car while listening to David Bowie.

“Need a tissue?” Eddie asks even though he knows he doesn’t have any in his van.

Steve just shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone.

Eddie nods to himself, taking a deep breath, he sighs. Eddie knows why he is crying, it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. The moment he saw him getting drunk at the Hideout, he just knew.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive over to Steve’s house. The music and Steve’s soft cries sound through the van. A part of Eddie pities Steve, the other part doesn’t – after all, it’s all his own fault.

He pulls up into Steve’s driveway, still remembering the way to his house from the last party he threw back in august when he had first talked to you. He stops the car and turns down the music a little.

“We’re here.”

Steve nods. He wipes the tears away and he reaches for the door handle but he doesn’t leave, not yet. His eyes fall on the note lying on the floor, it must’ve slipped out from his notebook. He instantly recognizes your handwriting and his heart drops a little when he realizes that you are writing them for someone else now. It’s not affectionate or romantic, the note only says ‘good luck on the test today. Can’t wait for the milkshakes you promised!’ Next to a smiley.

“I miss her.”

Eddie didn’t expect to hear those words from him. He leans back in his seat.

“I-I miss her so much,” he whispers. “I-I don’t know what to do without her. I want her back.”

“You have a girlfriend, man. You left y/n for her,” Eddie mumbles. “Do you even know what you want?”

Steve feels the bile rising in his throat. He feels sick.

“I do now, b-but it’s too late.”

Eddie glances at him. The look of sadness and the tears are genuine and so are his words but there isn’t anything that he could say that could make Steve feel better. He doesn’t deserve you, you are too good for him and you have suffered enough to give him another chance to break you again.

“I don’t know what you wanna hear, dude. You broke her heart and you did it in such a fucked up way too, there’s no coming back from that.”

Steve isn’t sure about what he wanted to hear but it’s definitely not that.

“Just leave her alone, you’re only making things worse,” Eddie sighs as he thinks about you. “Go home, Steve.”

Steve sniffles, he opens the door and nods.

“And don’t ruin the night for her tomorrow.”

Steve’s eyes widen, he looks at him through the tears. “She's coming?”

Eddie nods, “yeah, her friends convinced her to come.” He can see the look in Steve’s eyes, it’s the same one he sees in your eyes. He loves you, which makes everything so much more confusing. Why did he leave you for someone else when he loves you so much?

Steve blinks. He looks down for a moment, staring at the note that makes his heart ache. “Oh okay,” he whispers. “T-Thanks for driving me home.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, this is the most kindness he had ever shown to him.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. He narrows his eyes at him. Steve doesn’t move yet. The look on his face tells him that he wants to say more.

“Spit it out, dude.”

Steve looks up. Tears continue to brim in his eyes, the words are strangled in his throat. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to stay calm.

“T-Take care of her?”

Eddie wants to tell him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he decides against it. He nods. Even though he can’t understand why Steve did what he did, he can imagine the self hatred and the sadness he is feeling. A flicker of sympathy flashes in Eddie’s eyes.

“I will.”

Steve almost breaks down when he thinks of your words again, of the way you cried when you begged for him to leave, when you called him bullshit.

He walks away when he feels like breaking down again.

He fumbles with the keys, almost dropping them when his hands begin to shake. He manages to open the door, he steps inside and closes it. Leaning against it, he drops the floor and buries his face in his hands, a broken sob leaves his lips.

He knows he has to let you go, the way you let him go but how?

How?

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. You apply the red lipstick that Chrissy convinced you to get when you stopped by the drug store after you bought the dress that you had caught your eye the last time you went shopping with them. A black, glittery dress. It’s not too tight but it’s not a wide one either, though it fits your body perfectly. The straps are thin and it has a cut on the side. You love it. It’s not something you would usually wear, you always opted for the colorful dresses but, you feel like it’s time to switch things up.

How you let them convince you to come to the dance after all? You have no idea but the thought of spending another night filled with tears made you feel miserable.

Heather is standing behind you with the curling iron as she finishes off the rest of your hairstyle.

Some Christmas song is playing on the radio, the room smells like a mix of hairspray and perfume.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as you stop applying the lipstick.

She hums, glancing at you through your mirror.

Heather purses her lips, she pulls the curling iron away from your hair and twists the wave.

“Is it just me or is Chrissy being weird towards me?”

“What do you mean?” She asks. But you can see the knowing look in her eyes, you know she – they are both not telling you something.

She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths down your waves and applies more hairspray.

“She’s just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” you mumble. “And she seemed so sad when I agreed to go with you.”

Heather hesitates to speak up. You can tell that she is trying to come up with a lie.

“She’s probably just sad because she has to go with Jason Carver.”

You look down at your painted nails and nod, “yeah, I guess.”

“Which I totally get, who would want to go with him?” Heather tries to change the topic, you know she is.

“Literally no one,” you snort. “But he will probably be the new King of Hawkins High once Steve and Billy graduate and the naive freshman girls will throw themselves at him,” you say with a disgusted look on your face.

“God, that’s a disgusting thought,” Heather says. “Let’s talk about something else – look at you,” she smirks as she leans down, placing her finger under your chin, she raises your head, “queen of Haw–”

“Don’t say that,” you groan as you tilt your head up to look at her.

She chuckles and ruffles your hair a little. “You look amazing, now get your ass into that dress and let’s go. Maybe Munson will show up for you and steal you for a dance,” she wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes but you can’t fight the smile off your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble. You reach for your half finished drink. Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol but you need it, right now. You don’t plan on getting drunk, just a little tipsy to make it through the night.

You both finish getting ready, you put your dresses on and take a few polaroid pictures in front of the fairy lights in your room. You throw a mint into your mouth and spray more perfume on yourself, hoping that your mom won’t smell the wine on you.

She doesn’t notice it or at least, it seems like she doesn’t. She takes more pictures of you and Heather in front of the Christmas tree before you leave.

The school hall is bustling with people, loud music is playing and everything is decorated in gold, red and green colors – fitting the Christmas season. Your arm is linked with Heather’s. She seems excited, you feel overwhelmed.

The lights are flashing, girls in colorful dresses rush past you with their dates. You look around, trying to spot Chrissy but you don’t see her anywhere. You sigh, the first few minutes of a big event are always the most awkward ones.

Where do you stand? Where do you sit? Who do you talk to? Is it too early to dance? Is it too early to leave?

“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks.

You nod, smiling at her.

“You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m fine, I-I just need something to drink.”

“A drink?” A deeper voice asks. One that instantly makes you roll your eyes.

Billy steps in front of you with a smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down before he looks over at Heather, checking her out as well. He is wearing a tux, the button down underneath the jacket is almost fully unbuttoned.

“You look slutty, Billy.” You joke, “you’re lucky Mrs. Myers isn’t around or you’d be sent home for violating the dress code.”

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer to you, he holds up one finger, “the slutty look is exactly what I was going for.”

“As always,” you snort.

“Do you wanna dance?” Billy asks you.

“No thanks but Heather wants to dance.”

She turns to you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I know you want to,” you whisper into her ear before you pull away and place her hand into Billy’s, who smirks at you.

“I’ll drown you in the punch if you don’t treat her well.”

He only laughs in amusement, clearly not taking the threat seriously.

“Y/n?” Heather glares at you.

“Have fun, babe.”

You know all about her not so secret crush on Billy – she is good at hiding it but you saw right through it.

You make your way over to the snack table. Waving at some of the girls from the cheer squad who are taking pictures with their dates.

A huge bowl is in the middle of the table, filled with red liquid and fresh fruit. You wonder if someone spiked it with alcohol yet. You pour some of it into a cup and take a sip. Definitely spiked. You down the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second cup.

“Hey.”

You freeze. You stare down at your drink. Yeah, you definitely need the alcohol tonight. You haven’t talked to him since that night, you sat next to him during English class today and you had submitted the essay together but you didn’t talk and you hoped that it would stay that way. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

“Careful with the punch, Tommy spiked it.”

You turn around to face him, his eyes widen a little when he takes in the sight of you. He looks you up and down, not in the same way Billy did but in a way that leaves your skin crawling and your heart racing.

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a red bow tie. His hair looks amazing as always but his eyes are filled with sadness.

“Good,” you mumble as you drink the spiked punch.

“Y-You look beautiful,” Steve says. His heart flutters, you steal his breath away. The dark eyeshadow makes your eye color more prominent. Your red lips look so kissable and the dress looks like it was made for you. You are perfect.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Steve?” You sigh. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing that it will only make things worse.

He blinks, furrowing his brows. He looks over your shoulder to where she’s standing with Jonathan, smiling at him. “She’s uh–” he stops talking when he sees you walking away. He sighs, clenching his hand into a fist, “shit..”

You already feel like going home – you knew you would run into him, you still weren’t prepared, you never are. You are sick of the feeling he leaves you with whenever you see him. You are so over it.

You take a seat at your assigned table and look around, finally spotting Chrissy in the crowd. She’s dancing with Jason, you can see the forced smile even from a mile away.

You can’t stand him. You always hated the way he treats others – the way he thinks that he is so much better than everyone else and the way he thinks he can have anyone he wants. The way he uses Mrs. Cunningham’s liking towards him to force himself into Chrissy’s life, knowing that she doesn’t actually like him.

You relax a little when you see Heather heading towards Chrissy, pulling her away from Jason so that they can dance together. You lean back in the chair and sip on your drink.

You wish you would have stayed at home.

You wish you would have listened to Eddie when he said that this sucks.

You feel like a loser, sitting by yourself at this empty table, sipping one drink after the other as your eyes continuously move back to him. You see him with her and it breaks your heart all over again. By now, you should be used to it and you were – you have gotten used to this. To him not being yours anymore, to him loving someone else, to him being with someone else but then he turned everything upside down.

His confession left you in shambles. He had broken everything, again. All the strength you have gathered since the day he left you, he took it all away from you with a few words and a kiss that almost happened.

He loves you, that’s what he said. But he is here, holding her in his arms, kissing her as though he didn’t try to kiss you, two nights ago. He is dancing with her, whispering things into her and holding her tightly.

None of it makes sense to you.

If he loves you so much, then why is he dancing with her as though nothing ever happened?

Why is he still with her?

Is she a rebound now or were you just the backup plan all along?

The girl he’d come back to once things with her go downhill?

Are they already going downhill?

Is that why he told you he still loves you?

So that he has someone to come back to?

You feel so miserable. The longer you stare at him. You begin to feel worse and worse.

Not even a dance with your friends helps you lift your mood. Not even the compliments and the nice things that people have said to you tonight, make you feel better. Nothing makes you feel better but you force a smile on your face, a happy one. The way you always do and you dance with Heather and Chrissy, holding their hands and pretending to have the time of your life when all you wanna do is go home and cry yourself to sleep.

It’s when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers with a sad expression on your face, ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go home, that your night takes a turn for the better.

You don’t hear the footsteps coming your way, you are too busy looking at all the happy couples. Someone clears their throat.

“May the Master of Dungeons have a dance with the ethereal Queen of Hawkins High?”

Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you straighten up and turn to look at Eddie who playfully bows in front of you with a smile on his face, getting a few weird looks from the other, which neither of you care about.

A giggle falls from your lips, “Eddie!”

“Come on, give me your hand, Queen.”

You laugh and place your hand in his. He pulls you up and smiles at you when your eyes lock. “Look at you,” he beams. He raises your hand over your head, “give me a twirl,” he winks.

You roll your eyes, playfully. Giving him the twirl that he asked for, you can’t help but giggle when he begins to whistle.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart!”

He grabs your waist when you stumble a little. He instantly smells the alcohol on you.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

He eyes you with a smile on his face, “love the smokey eyes and the dress – honestly, you look like a witchy fairy.”

“A witchy fairy?” You laugh, tilting your head.

He puts his hand over his heart, “I mean that as a compliment – a badass witchy, fairy, shit, I’m gonna have to create a character based on you now.”

You shake your head, laughing at the concentrated look on his face. He is wearing a white button down, a few buttons are left undone, one of his tattoos is peeking out from beneath the shirt, and a silver chain is around his neck. His curly hair looks as good as always.

“You look amazing, Eddie.”

He raises his brows in surprise, his dark eyes light up.

“Thank you, badass fairy witch,” he winks. “Look, I stole these pants from Wayne, I have none without holes in them,” he laughs, pointing to the black pants he is wearing.

You can’t even help but giggle.

“I thought this isn’t your thing,” you say. Gesturing to the dance.

He shrugs, “yeah well, I thought you could use a dance partner.”

Your gaze softens. A feeling of warmth and comfort rushes through you. “You came for me?”

He holds your hand tighter, “who else would I come here for?” He asks as he looks into your big eyes.

“My knight in shining armor,” you tease.

He snorts at your words, “come on.” He says as he pushes you in front of him and leads you into the middle of the dance floor, pushing some jock out of the way. You can feel the eyes on you, you can see the weird looks from the cheerleaders when they see you with Eddie. It only makes you scoff at them.

A squeal leaves your lips when Eddie suddenly twirls you again, laughing when you hold onto his hand tightly. He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans in, “let me guess, you had some of that spiked punch?” He whispers into your ear.

"Absolutely,” you giggle and turn around to face him. You place your hands on his shoulders.

“Bad girl,” he smirks, tapping your nose.

“I learned from the best.” You tap his nose back, making him laugh.

Steve watches you and Eddie with an irritated look on his face. You seem so carefree and happy with him. So familiar. Like you have known each other for a long time already. You melt into his touch so easily and laugh at whatever he is whispering into your ear.

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He knows it’s jealousy. He can’t do anything about it though. The girl in his arms is his, you aren’t – not anymore.

Every breath you take by The Police starts playing. Some leave the dance floor, some stay to slow dance with their partner. Steve pulls Nancy closer and looks over her shoulder to see what you will do.

Eddie pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around him, you lay your head on his chest, melting into him so easily. It breaks Steve’s heart a little. He feels tense, it’s hard to see you with someone else, even when Eddie said that there is nothing but friendship between the two of you, it certainly looks more than just that to Steve.

You don’t even notice the weird looks you are getting from the people around you. You are only focused on him. The thought of you and Eddie somehow hurts more than the thought of you and Billy. Because Billy would be nothing more than a hookup but Eddie? Eddie is a good guy, one who will treat you well and love you the way he couldn’t.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks as she lifts her head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a frown on his face. “Why?”

Her blue eyes are filled with confusion, she shrugs, “you seem tense.”

“I’m fine, Nance,” he says, softly.

“Okay,” she smiles.

When she lays her head on his chest, he squeezes her and looks back up. His breath hitches in his throat when his eyes lock with yours as you rest your chin on Eddie’s shoulder, who’s back is turned towards him. For a moment, you look at each other. Steve’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest, the longer you look at each other. He longs for you. This, all of this, feels so wrong. He shouldn’t be here with her and you shouldn’t be there with him.

But while his eyes soften, your eyes harden.

His are filled with longing and sadness.

Yours are filled with indifference.

You look at each other for a few long seconds and then you take one final look at him before you tear your eyes away from him. Somehow, that felt like a stab to his heart because that moment felt like the end. The realization that it is truly over makes his blood run cold. He feels paralyzed by the pain that he had caused himself.

Eddie tightens his hold on you when he feels how tense you are, he looks down at you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

"Yes, please."

next part

only tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

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writingreadinglurkingandsmirking · 9 months

Text

Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.

CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed

Words: 8.1k+

Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.

It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.

When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.

The first time I ignored it.

The second time I ignored it.

The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.

“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.

“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.

“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.

Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”

“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”

I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.

He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”

“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”

I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.

“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”

“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”

I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”

There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.

He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”

“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.

“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”

“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.

“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.

“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”

I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.

Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”

“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”

“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.

I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.

Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.

“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”

Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.

“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.

My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.

“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”

“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”

“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.

“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”

I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.

“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”

“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”

“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.

“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.

He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”

“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.

“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.

His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”

“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”

Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.

“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”

I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.

“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.

“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”

“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”

My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.

“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”

Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.

“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”

I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.

“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”

With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.

Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”

When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.

“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.

“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.

“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”

And who was I to disobey?

The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.

“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“No?” he asked.

“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.

He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”

“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.

“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.

Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.

“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.

In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.

“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.

“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.

“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.

“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.

“Daddy, please,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.

“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.

This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.

“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”

With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.

“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.

Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.

“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.

He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.

“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”

His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.

“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.

He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.

“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”

“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”

“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.

“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.

“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”

And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.

“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.

“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”

“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”

He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”

“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.

“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”

“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.

He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”

For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”

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octuscle · 16 days

Note

I'm on a flight to Tokyo, and I'm definitely going to stand out amongst the locals... what should I do?

I always have the greatest respect for visits to Asian countries myself. So it's more than natural that you need support. I myself have had very good experiences with a preset that I am sending you. I recommend that you activate the preset as soon as possible, the transformation is set to last 12 hours.

Okay, it's exemplary that you had your cell phone in flight mode, so the message only reaches you after the plane is already on the tarmac on its way to the terminal. With your seatbelt still fastened, you activate the default setting. After the first few seconds, the first effect becomes apparent. The tension is gone. This is not the first time you have landed in Haneda. Only tourists and fools jump up and open the luggage compartments before the seatbelt signs have gone out. You are disciplined. Discipline is the only way to survive a juggernaut like Tokyo. You know that. The idiots around you don't.

You say goodbye to the person sitting next to you. You say goodbye to the flight crew when you leave the plane. In broken Japanese. You struggle with the language. Even though you've been learning it for over a year. At least you recognize a few of the characters at the airport. At least you can understand fragments of the conversations around you. And you know your way around the airport. Even if you're not the first to jump on, you're one of the first at the baggage carousel. It pays to have a Japanese ID card. Wait a minute! A Japanese ID card? Sure, you've been living here for years. Tokyo is your second home. Naturalization was only logical. You have a Japanese great-grandmother. That made it easier. You inherited your black hair from her.

You look at the people with the big suitcases with pity. They're either going to waste a fortune on cabs now. Or they'll have real problems on the train during rush hour. You've packed efficiently. And your advantage is that you stand out from the crowd. 190 cm… That makes you a giant in Japan. And a colossus at 120 kg. When you finally take the steps from the subway into the open air, the default setting has already been active for three hours. You walk the last few meters to your hotel. It's so nice to be back here. Yes, you actually live in London. But you spend as much time as you can in Tokyo for business and pleasure. For years now. You speak the language very well, you're up to date with all the fashions and gossip. And a regular guest here at the hotel. The concierge addresses you by name. You greet him back by name. Nevertheless, you exchange business cards. Tradition is tradition. The building trembles. A slight earthquake.You don't know how many earthquakes this is in your life. It's not even worth mentioning in your conversation.

Now a quick bowl of noodle soup. And then to the gym. You've spent too much time motionless on the plane and in the subway. You need action now. The feeling that your body has given its last. And then a hot bath and a massage. Your buddy at reception has already arranged everything. You just quickly take your luggage upstairs and get changed. And then you run down the stairs to the gym. The earth has just shaken a little again. The last thing you need now is to get stuck in the elevator.

Two hours later, when Atsushi presses his elbows into your back, all is right with the world again. Atsushi is a master of his trade. And you've known each other for ages. In fact, you played baseball in the same club as children before you moved to Europe with your parents. It was a real coincidence when you found each other on one of your visits here on Grindr. It's one of the biggest and hardest reasons why you're staying here at the hotel. Rarely have you experienced a better masseur who is both good for your back and offers a first-class happy ending. He stands behind you and massages your neck. And his hard-on sticks out in front of your face. Shit, if he doesn't suck you off right away, you'll cum without him laying a hand on you.

You two spend the evening at karaoke. Unfortunately, Asushi can't stay in your hotel room tonight. But he will take you upstairs. And you fuck him as a thank you. Asushi thanks you with a deep kiss goodbye. He says that your education in Europe has paid off. Nobody fucks like real Japanese men who learned to fuck in Paris. You grin. Well. An almost real Japanese man. Your one grandmother was English. You owe your blue eyes to her.

Get up, go to the gym, take a hot bath. That's how your next morning starts. Not easy with the jet lag. But you have to get back into the rhythm of the city of your ancestors quickly. The first meeting is at 07:30. Time is money. And life in Tokyo is not cheap. "それで、侍よ？よく眠れましたか？" Asushi sent a picture of his morning wood. You return the favor with a selfie, freshly showered. "よく眠れたよ！しかし、私には硬いものと柔らかいものがある。疲れ果てた夜に備えよ," you reply. "はい、侍よ！" You're looking forward to the end of the day!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #race change

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imaslutforcuddles · 10 months

Text

ESCAPISM

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary | after being broken up with, you plan on being sad and lonely but others convince you sex just sounds too good not to drown in. You end up meeting someone at a bar, who you might just love forever.

words | 2k

warnings | smut (18+) oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pinv, DRUGS (don’t mix drugs and alcohol), substances, high sex, subby reader, drunk sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, little angst, self pity, breakup bullshit, swearing, sex jokes, bitches, arguments, mention of cheating, idiots in love, a little bit of a sad ending.

A/N | i have been living off of escapism and i couldn’t not write a fic about it, imagine meeting eddie in a hot and sweaty club... Reader is called bean as a nickname in this because it’s cute, don’t judge. Also, this has a platonic love circle with y/n, robin, and steve (although he’s not really brought up in this). Their like a lil family. I might do a part two if yall want. DON’T DO DRUGS KIDS. 18+ MINORS STAY BACK.

a little context if you care to listen find myself in a shit position the man that i love sat me down last night and he told me that it’s over

You shoved a box in his hands with tears streaming down your cheeks, “There. it’s all your shit, now fucking go.”

He grunts a little but stays put, “You know i still care about you right.”

Sighing you start to push him out the doorway and onto the cold, “Have a good life Jason.”

You aggressively moved your hand toward the door signaling that he needed to leave, when his heavy body wouldn’t move.

Huffing as your eyes start to burn,

“Just leave, never ever talk to me again.”

He stares at you longingly as if he hadn’t ended just fucked another girl.

“I’m sorry.”

You slam the door and smack your face in disgust,

how could he have done this to you?

- Three weeks of sulking later -

Robin groaned, “Oh come on y/n! We have to go out and get some, or at least you. God knows how long its been since you’ve been eaten out!”

Your eyes widened and you huffed, “Jesus Fucking Christ Robin! I’m fine!”

She stares into your soul arms crossed and eyes squinting.

Raising your hands in defeat you exhale the air you had held while having a staring contest with robin, “Fine, but i don’t need some random dude to make me feel better.”

Robin shrugged, “Ehhhh not sure about that, but you at least need some weed or something.”

You smile and snuggled deeper into your bestie, “Love you robin.”

She grins and looks over at you, rubbing your shoulders with her soft palms.

“Love you too bean.”

Nights with Robin had been frequent since the breakup. It would start the same very time too, you’d call sobbing about him or about your depression and she’d show up at your doorstep with open arms.

Things would be so different without Robin, you can’t believe you have a friend as amazing as her.

dumb decision

The next day you saw her, she came in with a wide mischievous smile and two occupied hands, holding with clothes fit for a prostitute.

“Robin what the fuck is that?”

She shrugged, looking from the outfits to you.

You grasp the thin fabric if your hands, it did feel really nice..

“A little something to cheer you up? We can look like hot chicks, maybe fuck, maybe get some free drinks.”

You hesitated, free drinks..

“Alright fine.”

and i’m out on the town with a simple mission, in my little black dress, and this shit is sittin

So here you are, sitting in the back of the club holding a glass of champagne waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and fuck you into oblivion.

As much as you didn’t believe in fairytales, this might as well be one.

You scoff as a girl in your ‘friend group’ makes some lame joke about being horny and ready to party, and Robin hands you a joint and leans down to the shared table you were sitting at to snort another line.

You take a long hit from the shared joint, “This is so fucking depressing.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a slut.”

Some other girl across from you shouts over the music blasting around you,

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

Your face starts getting hot, you did not leave the comfort of your house just to get hated on by some random friends that Robin met up with at a shitty club.

“I called you a slut. I mean come on, you got cheated on. It seems like you were too slutty for poor Jason.”

She grinned and you took another long hit.

Damn can this shit start working?

“Do you even hear yourself? Your a fucking dumbass. So stop running my energy your not even worth it.”

Her smirk disappeared as your face stayed unfazed and stoic Your getting fed up with these girls around you.

How did she even know his name? Bitch probably fucked him too.

Grabbing your glass, you got up and headed to the bar for some more liquid courage.

“If the drugs won’t fucking cooperate maybe the alcohol will.” You groan.

Walking up to the bar you had almost wished you stumbled a little. To at least show your a little high, but no.

“What do you want?” A bartender grunted to you, if you weren’t so done with people’s attitude you might have actually cared that he was grumpy.

“The strongest shit you have.”

He took a deep sigh and smiled, “I’m sorry i was a bit rude there,”

You shook your head, “It’s all good buddy.”

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of what looked like a mix of Spirytus and tonic, you tut and grin. “What makes you so sure i wouldn’t like something sweeter instead of tonic?”

Looking up at you he chuckled, “You don’t look like a sweet type.”

Putting a hand to your chest you fake a sniffle, “I’m offended. I’m totally the sweetest person you’ve ever met,” you pause waiting for a name. He smiles realizing why you’re not continuing, “Eddie, my name is eddie. What about you sweet stuff?”

“Aha funny, i see what you did there.”

When you finally tell him your name his face softens, “That’s a beautiful name, it suits you.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, “Would you like to hang out with me after my shift?”

You squint your eyes, “That depends.”

His face contorts, he’s confused.

“On what sweetheart?”

Smiling you put your other hand on top of his, moving in closer to him. “On how quickly you can finish serving everyone else and start serving me.”

You grin while he just stands there awkwardly, “You don’t understand what i’m saying do you?”

Eddie awkwardly chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not in the slightest.”

Smiling, you reach for his collar to pull him onto your lips. You feel him tense up but soon relax and kiss back, “You don’t have to kiss me just because I kissed you.”

He smiles at your concern, “Don’t worry,”

Leaning in as close as he can from across the bar counter, he pecks your lips again.

“I wanted to.”

Watching him grin as he writes his number down on a nearby napkin and slides it over to you just makes you even more horny.

“Text me, I get off at one.”

You tuck it in your bra and smile, “Oh, I definitely will.”

He nods and walks off to serve more people, “Can’t wait sweetheart.” and you watch him the whole time. You watch as his arms flex while tossing around drinks, you bite your lip as he smiles at other customers.

You would have watched him the whole night but robin eventually found you staring, all alone and took pity on you.

“You look fucking depressing,”

Scoffing you get ripped from your spot on the stool, “I’m good right where i am robin.”

You wish that you would start to slur your words a little. I mean, it would make sense after all the glasses of alcohol you’ve been inhaling.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

Robin may have come to get wasted, but she doesn’t want you to regret your decisions more than you already do now.

She slid her hands under your slick armpits and held you up by your waist, thinking that without her you probably would have fallen straight on your face.

And yet, you were fine without her.

Scoffing to yourself and shaking your head, you push her away. “Just because i’m not with him anymore doesn’t mean i need you to take care of me!”

You could tell Robin didn’t expect you were somewhat sober, she thought you were just wasted like all her other friends. But she shakes off the hurt and surprise in an instant, she knows what you’re doing.

“I don’t think that you should be yelling at the only person who’s here for you.”

She walks away with a huff and leaves you alone. While, you frown and turn away to look at eddie. Who is still serving anyone with the flick of a wrist.

“Hey! Eddie.”

He turns to you and smiles mouthing a hello back.

When you wave at him to come over, he can’t help but feel a growing buz at the bottom of his stomach.

“What can I help you with sweetheart?”

“Your shift is over.”

You watch the confusion fall over his features, “I thought it ends in thirty-” Smiling, you grab him by the collar and pull your lips to his ear. “Your shift is over Eddie.”

He almost purrs at the way your voice whispers his name.

You push him against his bedroom door and moan into his mouth, “Mfmh Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at your whining and flips the two of you around, pushing his groin to yours. The making out only stops for a second as eddie pulls at your shirt, you grin and help him take it off.

Harsh puffs are pulled out of your mouth when Eddie latches his lips to your throat, sucking red spots all over it.

“Agh,” You pant and pull him closer to your neck, and push your center towards his own.

“I need you Eds.”

He grunts and pushes you onto his bed, grabbing his belt and ripping it off his pants.

You start to drool watching him undress, his body was lightly toned but oh so beautiful.

As you start to reach for his dick he stops you and sighs, “As much as i’d love for you to touch me, I need to be inside you.”

He grips your dress and pulls it off you in an instant groaning at the way your panties were drenched in your juices.

“Is that for me?”

You whine and shake your head. “It’s all f’ you Eds.” Pushing your head back you moan as he puts his fingers on your clothed core.

He chuckles and rips your panties off, pushing a finger in between your folds and huffing at how warm you were.

“A-ah Eddie!” Your body shakes at the sudden contact, and he pushes the finger inside you making your eyes widen and back arch.

“Mmh is my sweetheart sensitive?”

You whine as he sticks another finger inside, pumping in and out slowly.

“Eddie more please!” You beg and plead as he just stares down at you with a smile.

He nods and smirks, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Eddie moves closer to you and starts to lick your clit. You just about cum then, but continue pleading for more.

“Please, please, please!”

Soon enough the licks turn into sucking and slurping. As if he was a man starved, Eddie eats you out like a meal. Your back arches even more when you start to feel a coil in your stomach building up. As if he heard you, Eddie sucks on your clit harder and it snaps.

Your body shakes and your thighs close around Eddies head as he continues licking you through your orgasm.

Eddie then comes up for air, as he smiles and huffs. “Your pussy tastes fucking amazing.”

With a whimper you pull his body closer to yours and reach down to grasp his cock, “Need you.”

He almost growls as you pull out what you wanted most and stroke it, “Damn sweetheart, your hands are soft.”

You chuckle and help position him so he can push in comfortably.

When he does finally fuck you it’s slow and soft. At first, you thought it was just going to be sweet until he started speeding up and pushing in harder.

As you moan he just pistons faster and rougher.

“You like that sweetheart?” He grins when you moan loudly in response, not being about to give a worded answer.

You can feel his shaft getting harder as he gets close to release.

Eddie grunts and huffs, pushing as fast as he can into you.

“Ugh sweetheart i’m gonna cum!”

He reaches down to your clit and rubs, as you writhe and squeal gripping his shoulders. “Oh, Eddie!”

The both of you reach your peak together, hands pushing against each others bodies.

When Eddie comes down from his high, he gets up and grabs you a towel wiping his cum off you.

“Here you are sweetheart.”

He smiles and gets in bed next to you trying to hold you close, but when you feel something other than lust for him you push away.

“This was just a hookup, an escape. Okay? Nothing more.”

Eddie frowns, but nods moving away from you. After a couple minutes of silence, you decide it’s too hurtful to just stay when you’re trying to convince yourself you aren’t good enough for him.

“I think I should just go.”

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things season 4 #escapism #070 shake #smut #smut fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

Text

✩࿐TRACK 06: BESIDE YOU. denki kaminari (2K)

about. upon finally escaping your toxic ex, your friends do a little scheming which leads to a hook up with an old high school friend looking for something more.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! suggestive, sfw, slight angst, fluff, happy ending, weed mention, mutual pining, make outs, old friends to lovers, love confessions, fem!reader, pro hero!kaminari.

things to note. eee here it is!! the final fic, thank you for joining me on this journey. i’m quite proud of myself for completing a project like this!! enjoy my loves! special thanks to @maliciouslove for beta reading mwah - masterlist / series masterlist / series playlist ✩

you don’t go to parties.

something about them makes it hard for you to find the appeal in bass boosted music and sweaty bodies complied into one uncomfortably tight space. the drinks are never to your liking, cheap and sour at house parties but overly priced and bitter at the clubs your friends drag you to on the weekends.

you don’t go to parties because of the people too.

sure it’s fun, when you’re dancing up on your friends, sharing a giggle and snapping selfies that’ll serve as reminders of your youth when your knees grow a little too fragile for the excessive ass shaking and grinding on your girls. but then as soon as you start to feel yourself loosening up, a drunk stranger who meets the bare minimum will start hitting on one of your friends and the other will be dragged away to dance amongst a circle of them with the promise of texting you when they’re safe (and done fucking randos) for the night.

one by one, they typically leave you to fend for yourself until you end up at the shitty bar getting pity drinks from the bar tender. often while another drunk stranger (who’s so pissed that they can’t tell their nose from their toes) tries to flirt with you until you feel physically sick.

you don’t go to parties, because you’ve never needed them. your friends tell you that they’re a great place to meet people and mingle, perhaps even date — but you’ve had no need to ‘organically’ meet people up until recently, being tied down to your ex and all. the way you’d met had been super cute too, he’d worked at a coffee shop you frequented on the way to your 9-5 job and one day grew the confidence to leave his number on your cup. you had spent hours deliberating on what to text him, settling for a simple ‘hey :) <3’ and the rest had been blissful history.

of course he started treating you like shit and dumped you for the next best thing.

so lately (with the hope that you would start getting over him) your friends have been hauling your sorry ass to whatever motive they could find — even if the event had been hosted by some rando on the street.

that’s how you ended up with an exclusive invite to a house party full of pro heroes. your friends had gone snooping into people you knew from high school and encountered mina ashidou, who you worked closely with as a student on the support course. she was more than happy to help you soothe your scars and find some new meat at one of her monthly rager house parties. and of course your friends snapped up the chance to try their luck with your old (now) pro hero friends.

to say you were nervous to see everyone again was an understatement, and for most of the night you kept to being a fly on the wall — watching the alcohol induced antics ensue. you don’t even want to be here, surrounded by people from your past who are clearly doing much better in life than you are right now.

this is so stupid.

why did you even think that coming here would do you any good? listening to your out-going, party-goer friends was probably the worst decision you’ve ever made. who were you kidding? coming to this place to make your ex jealous? like that would work in a million years. you really should just leave before anyone notices, tell them you felt sick and that you couldn’t do this. mina would surely understand—

“there you are, cutie. i almost didn’t recognise you!” looking up at the sound of a velvety, yet, chipper voice — you rack your brain to match its tone with the pair of sunrise-gold eyes peering down at you. “still stuck in your head i see. you remember me?”

“k-kaminari!” you squeak out the syllables of the electric blonde’s name — shocked and surprised that pro hero chargebolt would even recognise you after all the time that’s passed since high school. from what you can remember about back then, denki kaminari was a friend of mina’s and so a friend of yours by extension. he was a good guy, struggled with his quirk but genuinely tried his best. “hi! how are you?”

as if the blonde hadn’t heard your question, he swoops down to meet your height and presses an arm against the wall just above your head — asking you to repeat the question with a gentle smile.

“what was that, sweetheart?

you think you might fucking pass out from how close denki is. his citrusy cologne overwhelms your senses and from this close, you can tell how much he’s grown. through the smokiness of the party — the joints and the cigarettes, you can see that he’s much leaner and taller than when you were in school, with the right amount of muscle as well. his golden skin glows under mina’s party lights, his eyes are sleek and sensual but inviting too, and he’s so handsome you can feel yourself beginning to swim.

swallowing thickly, you stutter out. “i said…how are you?”

“oh!” denki chuckles, the sound shooting straight through you warmly. “i’m doing good, better now that i’ve found you here cutie! mina told me you were coming.” cocking his head, he gives you the once over and that same smile from before returns to his pretty face. “you look good, i’ll admit, my jaw practically hit the floor when i first saw you from across the room.”

what the fuck is going on here?

while you’re flustered and certainly enjoying the attention from an old schoolmate — you can’t seem to piece together the puzzle, asking yourself exactly why he would be flirting with you. you haven’t seen denki since graduation aside from his TV appearances and marketing campaigns (which, by the way, his PR team are doing amazing at), so you’re confused as to what he wanted with you.

wishing the wall or the floor would swallow you whole — you press your hands gently into denki’s broad shoulders to push him away from you, surprised when he doesn’t budge. “uh…kaminari…”

“hmm?”

grimacing, you avoid looking him in the eye, knowing you’ll melt into a puddle if you do. “why are you suddenly flirting with me?”

for a moment, the blonde looks taken aback but he quickly blinks the expression away and smirks down at you again. “‘cause i’m into you, duh!” you flinch when his soft hands (slightly rough due to his quirk) tilt your chin upwards and you lose yourself in his amber irises. “come on, lemme take you somewhere? i wanna be able to talk to you properly.” you frown in suspicion which only makes denki laugh cheekily. “promise i’m not a serial killer. i’m a hero now, remember?”

relenting, you let the electric hero lead you away from the bustling crowd infiltrating the living room, hallways and kitchen — swallowing your heartbeat when he drags you up the stairs to one of ashido’s unoccupied bedrooms. kaminari has you seated on sheets with a thread count so high you fear they might cost half of your rent for the month. he clambers onto the bed beside you, so close that your shoulders bump and you can feel the warmth of his skin bleeding into yours.

“so now that it’s just you and i… no other guys,” he purrs into the shell of your ear, coaxing you backwards into the sheets. there’s no interruptions, just you and him. “we can finally catch up a little, huh, cutie?”

“uhuh…” you nod dumbly as you feel denki’s hand traverse up your thighs, stopping just under the hem of your shirt while he crawls on top of you. it’s nice, having someone touch you like this after so long, after your ex — but there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that this isn’t genuine or real. “w-wait!” you squeak when kaminari’s lips drop to your jawline, working their way up to your own.

denki, from what you’ve gathered, is a renowned fuck boy. now that he’s a little hotter (not that he wasn’t before) and more charming, he and his little friend sero hanta had been playing lucky dip with their dicks across the population right up until recently — when sero found himself in a long distance relationship. you had just gotten out of a long-term one yourself and you weren’t even sure if you could handle just having a bit of fun right now.

the blonde peels away from you, faster than the speed of light, sitting back on his haunches. “hey, are you okay?”

“yeah i’m just—“ you’re sure that you look a mess, clothes askew and chest heaving — but you have to make sure that this won’t be a mistake. “how do i know that you even like me, kaminari? we haven’t spoken in years, i just got out of a relationship and you’ve got this reputation now—“

it’s like kaminari can sense that you’re nervous and hesitant but just as easily as he can do that, he can also tell how badly you want this. “i’ve always liked you,” he says easily, unafraid, much unlike you. “but you never took me seriously back then. ‘nd i’m different now, i’m not nearly as slutty as you think.”

even in the darkness you can see a genuine glow to the electric hero’s golden eyes — you feel yourself trusting in him despite the charming front he puts up. “you made it a thing, yanno?” he continues, voice dipping into lower octaves that have your skin erupting in goosebumps. “in high school, you used to make a point of telling me that i’m not your type.” denki is all over you again, but he doesn’t push the boundaries of what you consent to. his hands only move further up when you let him, his nose pressed against your neck when you say yes. his lips on your skin when you plead. “how about now, cutie? judging by your reactions, i think i know what’s on your mind."

doubts and worries swirl around in your mind like a grade four hurricane. he’s making you dizzy, his scent, his smile, his words are driving you insane but you can’t help but worry. having sex with denki wouldn’t be the same has making love with someone you were once committed to but he still wants you, despite everything you’ve gone through.

tilting your head up to face him, the electric blonde pulls you from your thoughts. “don’t worry, cutie. we won’t do anything you don’t want to.” he simpers, his canines just grazing your bottom lip. “but if you want me like i want you. then i’m here. anything to sate ya, beautiful.”

“okay,” you swallow thickly, your shaky fingers coming up to rest on kaminari’s shoulders. “i want you.”

“yeah?” he interrogates you lightly, searching through the sexual tension in the air for your absolute consent. bowing your body into denki’s, you breathe a quiet but firm ‘yes’ which gives him to go ahead to push your legs apart with his knee. you’re so ready for him already and the fun has barely begun, your breathing hot and heavy as you cover your face at the indecent moans you let out. “don’t be shy, you decide how far we go tonight — i just wanna make you mine.”

and with that, you decide to trust denki with the shattered pieces of your heart — accepting the sloppy kiss you find yourself locked in when he swoops down to give you one. soon after that, a haze falls over your mind and the night quickly falls away.

when you wake up the next morning, patches of your body are sore and bruised just under the skin — littered with an array of deep blues, purples and burgundies from where kaminari had insisted on marking you all night. theres a tenderness between your legs that makes a pulse of heat dance across your face as light bulb memories from your late night activities flash in your mind.

you’re still at mina’s place, judging by the fact that your bed is not your bed and your clothes are crumpled on the floor where you usually would have tossed them on the back of your desk chair. rubbing at your eyes, you note that your makeup is definitely ruined, remembering that denki liked to see you cry — the aforementioned blonde nowhere to be found either.

panic seizes your chest, intertwined with your lungs and your heart like the prickly vines of a pesky weed. had he left without a word? surely he didn’t regret last night? surely you weren’t that bad of a fuck? tears begin to flood your eyes, you’d trusted denki with a part of you that only your ex had seen and now he was gone like the wind too.

you’re too caught up in your pity fest to notice the bedroom door creak open, however, only looking up when it slams shut and a sheepish denki is standing before it. “i-i brought you breakfast,” he stumbles over his words in an attempt to rush over to you with arms full of what smells like hashbrowns and breakfast muffins. “i-i got hungry and figured you would be too. i really did a number on you last night— oh please don’t cry, cutie!”

“i’m not crying!” you damn near screech, trying to hide your face from him. in a way, it’s sort of adorable how denki looks with his hair all messed up and marks of yours littered down his neck and what you can see if his shoulders. his golden eyes, so warm and charming, erratically search your face for any sign of pain as you dab away your own tears.

“i texted too! i had to bug mina for your number before i left. which meant waking her up and she almost killed me — i’m sorry, maybe I should have woken you up too—“ in three short strides, denki crosses to the room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his arms after abandoning the food. it’s nice, being held like you matter to someone. it was never like that with your ex.

but in your heart of hearts, you started to believe the words he told you at your break up. that you wouldn’t be able to move on, that your dependency on him would be the only thing to hold you back…and he was right. pitifully so. because while you’d shared an amazing night with kaminari, an old school friend, you were spending the morning-after crying your eyes out in front of him because you were afraid he’d leave. he owed you nothing!

“we should’ve never done this,” you hiccup pathetically despite how denki rocks your bodies back and forth to calm you down. “h-he was right… i’m so stupid!”

blonde eyebrows meet at the centre of denki’s forehead as he frowns deeply. not at you, never at you. he had heard the rumours about your ex and the downfall of your seemingly happy relationship, hell, it had even shocked him to see your relationship status on social media change from committed to single. that didn’t mean everything was as it seemed, nor that you deserved to have your heart ripped in two.

“fuck that,” the electric hero whispers a little too quietly at first, just barely heard over your sniffles and sobs while he sways you both. “fuck that guy. that’s a fucking lie and you know it!.”

“k-kaminari!” you squeak in surprise, looking up at him with wide doe eyes.

shaking his head, he meets your gaze with frenzied sunshine eyes of his own. “this wasn’t a mistake to me, i really fucking wanted you, i always have,” he begins, using a knuckle to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “your ex was an asshole, but his love could have never felt right if he treated you so badly. made you feel like this.” next, denki presses his forehead to yours, hoping that his reassurances are enough. “maybe I’ve gone about this the wrong way, sleeping with you first and buying you dinner…breakfast… second. but i’ve always liked you, and i want to be the one beside you from now on…if you say it’s alright?”

you’re not pleased to admit that kaminari makes you cry all over again — happy to admit that it’s for a different reason. because even after all this time apart, the blonde still wants you and only you. you’d be a fool not to switch sides and be with him. someone who likes you for you, they way you could like him.

so you giggle, allow kaminari to wipe your nose and call you pretty while you breathe out a quiet. “yeah, it’s alright…”

#kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #kaminari fluff #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #bnha x you #kaminari x you #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x you #my hero academia x reader #kaminari imagines #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 27 days

Note

aita for not telling someone i know he’s being bullied?

⚠️ mentions of cancer + a suicide attempt

everyone mentioned here is in their 20s, with the youngest being 21 and the oldest being 28. none of the names used here are anyone’s actual names.

this is kind of a long story with a lot of moving parts and i can’t get into ALL of it so im trying to section JUST this off. basically i’ve had a group of friends for awhile. we met in a larger server and its a pretty big circle, so there is interpersonal drama aplenty. i stepped away from the bigger server and mainly maintained contact with 5-7 friends id made through a personal server and dm conversations.

one of the people in that server, erin (she/they) dm’d me to tell me they had to leave said personal server because they’d had a bit of an incident with 3 of the other members. they ended up telling me that they and the other 3 members had a group chat where they’d regularly talk shit about another person we know, bryce (he/him). apparently they all took something he said months ago WILDLY out of context to claim he’s a transmisogynist and therefore its fine that they bully him (this guy isn’t someone i’ve talked to very much since leaving but i do know him and we are on good terms. he can be a bit difficult to maintain conversations with but he very much is not a transmisogynist. also none of the people in this gc are transfem). like, they conspire in this group chat ways to make him feel bad. erin showed me some screenshots. its pretty textbook highschool mean girls behavior.

erin was also in this group chat and finally got fed up with them all and told them they need to stop trying to justify their actions. its pretty obvious bryce is not the bigot they’re saying he is and they’re just using that as an excuse to be cruel. the people in the group chat did not take that well so erin left and has also left any mutual servers they’re in with them.

she only told me all this because i offered to let her vent, but now im in kind of a rough spot morally. i think the correct thing to do here would be to let bryce know, but im being. kind of a coward about it.

this all may sound like im just throwing myself a pity party, but i am in a very, very bad spot right now. like i said, there was a ton of interpersonal drama in this group and i’ve been in the center of it before. it took a massive toll on me. so im not keen to get involved in drama in general, but also, mainly. i lost my best friend (minze, she/her) to cancer at the start of this year. i’ve known her since childhood and i’ve barely been able to function without her. we lived together. i still take care of her cat. we had the same birthday, and its coming up in a little over a week. i’ve been absolutely gutted knowing this is the first birthday ill spend without her in over a decade. i tried to kill myself a couple of weeks ago because i couldn’t bear the thought of it. i failed, obviously. and im fine at the moment but im definitely not perfectly well and im barely hanging on by a thread

i left the larger group because i couldn’t stand to be involved with everything going on. if i tell bryce about this group chat, i will be getting involved again. i dont think they know i know about it at this point but the only people who could tell him would be me and erin. even if i did it anonymously or asked him not to tell it would be incredibly easy to trace back to me. while im appalled to know my friends have been so viciously cruel to someone for no reason, since losing minze these people have been my only support network. they all knew minze, too. they’re some of the only people i can share memories of her with. i dont think i could process this grief alone

i know i need better friends but i don’t have them right now. i’ve sort of already got a strained relationship with some of them and i worry this could be the last straw and id just… lose them abruptly. and i know if that happened id put myself at risk again, because id be just as heavily suicidal but now with no one to confide in about it

bryce deserves to know. its the right thing to do, but it would cause me a dangerous amount of mental strain. but even though i say i don’t want to get involved i do feel, on some level, like i probably got involved the second i let erin even tell me about this. so i feel like im being a whiny dickhead and just making excuses but im just. im not willing to put myself through this again. not right now. aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Note

HELLO HELLO LIZ HOW ARE YOU??? I HOPE YOURE WELL!!

now you already know who I’m here for but in case you didn’t-

SEGGSUAL TENSION WITH SPENCER REID, MAYBE HES BACK FROM A MISSION AND GOT BEAT UP ON AND SO READER’S CLEANING HIM UP AND THE ENTIRE TIME SPENCER’S LIKE “imnotturnedonrightnow,that’dbesoweirdwtf”

USE ANY PROMPTS BUT MAYBE 9?? I THINK THAT’D FIT WELL

I LOVE YOU!! HAVE AN AMAZING EVENING!!

HI FRIEND! I'M OKAY! I GOT YOU!

"Ya know, when I signed up to be your roommate, I did not sign up for this." I sigh, leaning against the doorframe as a broken and battered Spencer stumbles into our shared apartment, small, whiny winces escaping him with every step he takes.

"I need your help." He mutters, leaning against the counter while gripping his side, eyes finally lifting to look up at me. My frown deepens at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and I wonder if it's from his injuries or if it's truly been days since he's slept.

Both could be true.

"I am not a trained professional. You're literally a doctor, Spence." I step up to him, hands on my hips in an attempt to be intimidating but it's impossible when he's looking at me like that- pitiful and in need of help only I can offer him. In response, he gives me the best smile he can muster, reaching out to pat my arm playfully.

"Not that kind of doctor."

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I hold a hand out to him, linking my fingers with his- with zero arguments from him- before leading him away from our kitchen, watching blood drip out of the wound on his arm and onto the ground below us. "I literally keep this place going when you're gone and you have the audacity to come back and drip blood all over the floor that I just cleaned." I mutter through gritted teeth, dragging him into the bathroom with me, sending him a half-assed glare.

"You complain a lot." He hoists himself up onto the counter behind him, leaving room for me to slot myself between his parted legs.

This isn't the first time he's come home from a case all bloody and in need of patching up but this is has to be the worst I've ever seen from him.

"Again, you knew this before we moved in together." I pat his chest but it just pulls another pained groan from him and I investigate further, fingers puling at the collar of his shirt to see splotchy bruises painting his chest. "Did the other guy at least look worse than you?"

"Definitely not." He laughs, watching me dab at the cut on his forehead with furrowed brows. "Morgan won the fight for me."

"Can you take this off?" I pull at his shirt and he pauses, hands shaking at his side as I wait for his reply. Instead of responding, he just helps me lift the bloodied t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto the ground behind me. I let out a sad sigh at the sight of his bruised torso, my fingers instinctively reaching out to drag against his pale skin. He watches me intently with his lip tucked between his teeth, cheeks flushed a cute red color. "Shit, should you go to the hospital?" I ask, leaning down to inspect the deep bruise right beside his belly button, wondering if it's coming from internal bleeding but he just shakes his head and waves me off.

"No, I'm good where I am." He strains, head tilting so he can stare at the ceiling and not at me, the blush that was once on his cheeks is now crawling down his neck.

"You stress me out." I giggle but realize his sudden fidgety nature, his jaw clenched as I take a step back, eyes avoiding the pretty obvious distraction inches away from me. "Really?" I ask, mirroring him, chin tilting so I can stare at the ceiling and not the sudden tent in Spencer's sweatpants.

"Please, just don't mention it-"

"I really wanna mention it." I chuckle, slapping a hand over my mouth as Spencer whines, forcing his face into his hands with a loud groan.

"You're only making this worse." He shuffles off the counter and he slips past me, brushing my hands off as I try to reach out to him but he just waddles away from me, adjusting himself as he moves towards his room.

"It's not my fault!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1

#spencer #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

Note

/724781513472868352 I resonate with this on a deep level. I get told at college all the time that I don't look LGBT+ (they refuse to say queer, respectability politics is a helleva drug), I don't act it, no queer person is into my major or my hobbies, and it's weird that I'm queer but not into astrology or dressing more aesthetically ("are you a cottagecore or a dark academia gay?" I'm neither I'm a me) or playing Pokemon because outgrowing Pokemon is for cishets. People talk about gays/LGBT+ not being able to drive or do math or sit normally and then act like I'm some kind of ridiculous weirdo for not laughing at what they assure me is a true statement that does not apply to them or to me. People encourage me to experiment with my style or hair and "come out of your shell". I am informed I need to listen to certain musicians because all LGBT+ people are into them. It's weird that I'm not. It's even weirder I don't like The Owl House or hate Steven Universe or keep up with Heartstopper like the good queers do.

Basically it all boils down to, "Why can't you be more normal? Why can't you be like us?"

Because I'm not. My dad is a Pashtun Muslim and my mother is a Bukharan Jew. I have lived in the Deep South half my life and Wyoming the other half. My media interests are unrelated to queer rep and wholly based on liking the plots of things. I grew up on oldies and TV shows like Starsky and Hutch that my parents loved, pirated and played on repeat. I don't believe in astrology, I'm not a witch and I'm not an atheist with a Christocentric worldview who assumes all religions are Christianity Lite. I don't listen to the correct musicians mostly because I discover music entirely by accident and have a mishmash of genres and bands in rotation. Pokemon fell off and I'm not into it. I would sooner die than dye my Pashtun red hair that people made fun of me for as a kid. I like wearing button downs, clean shirts, nice jeans and my Magen David. None of this is incompatible with being queer. No one is going to kick me out of a gay club for not having played Pokemon Violet or listening to Tracy Chapman or trusting in science over crystals for healing.

And I really hate that after years of being avoided and pitied in high school by jackass backwards rednecks for being weird, I got to my dream university, the university in the most liberal city in Montana, and get the same fucking treatment.

Commenters like the one anon mentioned remind me of all the people who act like I'm doing it wrong. What is 'it', in that sentence? Living my life. Being queer. And when it crops in fandom - and I've gotten it sometimes for writing queer characters who are like me, Southern and into uncool shit and not sharp dressers and religious - it just makes me want to start screaming.

I am queer. I am not incorrectly queer. I am who I am and therefore, because I am queer, that is a correct way to do queerness.

Some gripes about Gen Z are overblown but this weirdly narrow view of what queerness is allowed to look like or be is 100% as awful as other generations say it is and it's fucking exhausting to live through. I don't have to sit differently in order to be doing queerness right or be unable to drive. I exist and I am queer and that is all I need to do and be.

I wish fandom was different from real life. I wish it was more open to the reality that queer people have a multitude of backgrounds and lived experiences. We're facing enough shit IRL, can't we just have one place where we're NICE to each other?

As a 40+ queer, I'm laughing myself sick at the current crop of "required" queer interests.

In my day, it was oldschool cis gay male culture for the men (think being obsessed with Bette Davis) and But I'm a Cheerleader and Dykes to Watch Out For for the women or something.

Not that you have to like any of those things either. It's just hilarious how clueless people are about what's a temporary trend that will probably be different in 5 years.

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starlightsearches · 2 years

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what about “need help getting out of those clothes?” or “god, you have no idea what you do to me.” with eddie???

When It's Raining

Thanks for the request, my love! I'm sorry I got a little carried away 😅 I got this insane urge to write some really, really soft smut, and I was listening to fleetwood mac. You know how it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4k~ish words

Likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going. Requests are also open 💖

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, friends to lovers, eddie's kind of gross, minor drug mentions, some teasing, reader gets stood up 😭, 18+ only, PIV sex, fingering (f), ring kink, safe sex, leetle bit of overstim (m), squirting, it's just a teeny bit awkward, i'm telling on myself with this one, maybe this is too many ideas for one story but fuck it we ball, and I think that's it!

The days are always too slow when it rains.

Eddie's got no commitments, no plans. Nobody was about to hike out into the woods or his trailer when the rain is thick enough to swim in, so he's got no business either. What he has got is a lit cigarette in his mouth (despite Wayne’s warnings against smoking in bed, all because he fell asleep one time), the rain on the trailer roof beating in uneven time, and an excess of thoughts.

He'd tried to drown them out with music, but the record's been spinning quietly for a while now and he couldn't be assed to get up and flip to the other side. Instead, he's chewing on his tongue, thinking about your date.

"I have a date tonight, asshole."

That's what you'd said to him when he called you up at work and begged you to save him from this mind-numbing boredom. When you said you couldn't, he'd made some wise-ass remark—something about how you couldn't have plans when he was your only friend.

"I have a date tonight, asshole."

"Bullshit, with who?"

"Connor Ingraham. He graduated the year before I did."

The year Eddie was supposed to graduate. "Was he the dickhead who chipped his tooth trying to do a backflip off the table in Mr. Holley's room?"

"He got it fixed in the city, but that's not the point. He came into the store today and we got talking. He asked me to dinner."

"And you said yes?"

"Yeah, why not? He was cute, even with the chipped tooth."

Eddie scoffs aloud at that, and then flushes even though there's no one around to hear it. Connor wasn't cute. He was a grade-a piece of shit then, and Eddie highly doubted he had changed that much since graduation.

More importantly though, Connor didn't seem like your type.

Eddie stubs out the cigarette, carding a hand through his hair and feeling stupid. He doesn't even know what your type is. If he did, maybe he could figure out how to get your attention.

There's a knock at the door, rattling his bedroom window with enough force that it pulls him from his stupid little pity party.

Eddie rolls from the mattress, feeling stiff and dirty, wearing the same clothes he woke up in—which also happen to be the same clothes he'd worn all yesterday. Not that it matters; he wasn't trying to impress anybody.

Or that's what he thought. Then he'd found you behind his door.

You're not looking your best, though, either. Your clothes are completely soaked through—the sweet little dress, your denim jacket, your shoes. You're a walking puddle with big, sad eyes, sitting on his porch.

You brush some of the rain and running mascara from your cheek without making a dent in the mess. "Can I come in?"

Eddie steps out of the way, wordless, watching as you shift the jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on the hook by the door. It creates its own little inside rainstorm, dripping limply onto the carpet. He peels his eyes from it as you slip your shoes from your feet next, barefoot and shivering in his living room.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I walked here," you say, like it’ll clear up all his questions, "can I stay the night? I'll sleep on the couch, even."

Giving up his bed for a night is the least of his problems. Eddie grabs a couple towels from the top of the laundry basket, shuffling back to you. He tosses one down on the cushions, and flings the other around your shoulders like a cape. You grab ends of it gratefully, holding it close for warmth as you flop down onto the couch.

He sits down beside you, picking at the loose skin around his nails to keep himself from touching you. "Of course you can, but you gotta tell me what's wrong, first."

You're staring at your knees, chewing on your lip, and he knows your expressions well enough to recognize when you're embarrassed. Which is silly, of course, because it's him you're talking to. You've seen him pick up a corn dog off the ground and eat it.

(Although he never told you he only did it to make you laugh. That would be its own kind of embarrassing.)

Eddie scoots a little closer than he normally dares, jeans soaking up some of the water you're dripping, leaning in close until you look him in the eyes.

"Did he- did he hurt you?"

You roll your eyes at him, but he still catches the tears pooling in your lashes. "He would have had to show up to do that."

Oh. That's got Eddie at his boiling point.

He takes your hands in his because he's got to have somewhere to channel this energy—something to ground him—but your skin is like ice, and the anger's not going anywhere.

"You want me to beat him up for you?"

At least that makes you laugh. "What good would that do? You haven't won a fight since," —you pause, thinking hard— "actually, I don't think you’ve ever won a fight."

That's not saying much. You'd only ever seen him throw a punch maybe twice, and one of those was in middle school. Now though, he's feeling like an animal—like he could rip Connor's throat out with his teeth.

But he doesn't want to scare you, so instead he puts on a half-smile, rubbing some warmth into your fingers as he says, "there's a first time for everything."

You shake your head. "I just want to forget about it."

Leaning down against his shoulder with a wet plop, you’re turning his white t-shirt see-through as it soaks up some of the rain from your hair. He’s never been this close to you anywhere but his dreams.

"Yeah, okay." And god fucking damn it, his voice cracks a little.

If the proximity has the same effect on you, he’s not seeing it. Eddie forces himself to ignore the welling bitterness, choosing instead to focus on the quiet cadence of your words.

"I should have known better. He never looked my direction when we were still in school. Nobody did."

Eddie did. That's why he failed English last year. Couldn’t even get himself to glance at the board.

"It's probably not even like that," —Eddie shifts uncomfortably. He doesn't know why he's defending this guy; seeing you sad makes him crazy,—"maybe he just forgot."

You shoot him a cynical look. "Would you forget?"

"No, but that's not the point." That's like the furthest you could get from the point.

"Yes, it is, Eddie,” you say, sharp with anger, “eventually I'm gonna have to accept that I'm not that kind of girl—"

Eddie sits back so he can look at you, make sure you didn't have some kind of a head injury he'd missed before. "Wait, hold up a second. What kind of girl?"

"You know . . . the kind of girl that people . . . like."

You're picking at your nail polish—little red flecks falling to the carpet—avoiding his eyes. He can’t believe you would say something like that, let alone believe it.

"That's bullshit."

"I'm just saying—"

"Well, stop saying. 'Cause it's not true."

Eddie stands—pacing—but the tight, hot feeling in his chest doesn't go anywhere, and he hardly hears the words spilling out of his own mouth. "God damn, you know you're too good for that dickhead, anyway. Way too good for him—you’re too smart, and funny, and easy to be around, and- and, fuck , so fucking pretty, even when you're not trying to be, and god, it's like you have no idea what that could do to me—"

"To you?"

Oh, shit. He’s fucked up.

You’re standing, close enough he could reach out and touch you although he doesn’t remember seeing you leave the couch. All that anger floods out of him like air in a punctured lung.

He grips a handful of his own hair, flexing his fingers rhythmically, trying to think. "I mean- just, like, to men, you know. In general."

"You didn't say that,” your tone is soft, but guarded, “you said 'to me.'"

There’s barely any distance between you now. He can see the rain drops perched in your lashes like little jewels, your shining skin, the warmth of your breath tempered by the chill in the air.

"What do I do to you, Eddie?" you ask, in a voice soft like velvet. His heart’s gonna beat out of his chest.

The tip of your finger traces over the chain on his wrist, pressing the cool links against his skin. “What do I do to you, Eddie? Tell me.”

He’s gotta be honest with you. It’s the only thing he has left.

"You- you drive me fuckin' crazy."

The pause you give him is weighted enough to crush him, eyes wide and unreadable, a soft furrow appearing between your brows. And then you’re rolling your eyes again, pushing him half-heartedly on the shoulder to hide your hurt.

"Come on, Eds, you know I don't believe that—"

Eddie needs you to shut up, and there's only one way he can think of, his fingers sprawled across your cheeks, burying his nose against your skin, warming your lips against his with a surge of hot, open-mouthed kisses. You taste better than he thought you would, and he’s thought about it a lot.

Thought about it so much he’s not even sure what’s real—the feel of your arms at his neck, hands in his hair, tongue stroking along the seam of his lips. He hopes the little breathless laugh you give him as you pull away is real, staring up into his eyes with more honesty than he’s ever seen from you.

“You drive me crazy, too.”

You kiss him, pressing your body tight to his and gripping thick handfuls of hair, tugging a little until he gasps. It’s the proximity that tips him off to the shivers traveling through you, your skin still cool despite how long you’ve been inside.

God, he’s freezing—leached of heat wherever the rain has soaked through his own clothes, and it’s got to be worse for you.

He strokes a thumb over your lips as he pulls away, letting you know that he’s still thinking of them. “We should get you out of these clothes.”

You follow Eddie to his bedroom, just like you’d done a thousand times before—so you could smoke, or check out one of his new records, or work on your homework while he dicked around with his guitar—but the nerves he feels this time are brand new.

“Y’know, what I said before,” he pauses in the doorway and turns to face you, drumming a beat on the frame with his fingers, “it wasn’t a come-on. If you want to just go to sleep, I can- you know, take the couch.”

You look at him with false innocence in your eyes, and Eddie wishes you would stop. The chemical reaction it causes in him is too much.

“The couch, huh?”

You touch him again, and—outside the heat of the moment—he doesn’t know how to handle it, trembling at the feeling of your fingers stroking up his chest. It’s nothing compared to the soft press of your lips at his neck.

“Just . . . if it would make you more, uh,” —his vocabulary is shrinking by the second. He’s gonna be nothing but a pile of moans and single-syllable words if you don’t stop doing that— “comfortable.”

You kiss along his jaw, down his collar bone. He can barely form a thought, let alone a word.

“We’ve shared a bed before, Eddie,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels. The distance means he can think again, but only about how disappointed he is you stopped.

That’s true. Kind of. There were nights you’d fallen asleep on the same mattress, bodies curved around each other without touching, the river of his want carving canyons between you while he watched you doze off.

“I mean, yeah, but never on purpose.”

You echo his words from earlier, turning your back and exposing the little white zipper of your dress. “There’s a first time for everything. Besides, I need your body heat. Help me?”

Eddie’s mouth moves wordlessly, completely dried up as he takes the metal tab in between his fingers. It pulls down smoothly, the little teeth clacking with each inch of your skin he reveals, until his hand stops, just above the curve of your ass. You shrug the dress forward off your shoulders, letting it fall forward and slip from around your hips.

“God damn.” Eddie thinks that maybe he shouldn’t curse—like it might cheapen the moment—but he’s got no control over the whispered words when his eyes trace over the lacy pink straps at your back, the junction where your sheer underwear meets the curve of your hip. He wants to snap the elastic against your skin, wants to make you tremble, but his hands stay locked at his sides.

The view’s even better when you turn, your arms folded shyly in front of you until he can just barely catch a glimpse of your stiff nipples through the sheer fabric, the swell of your breasts dented against your arms. He grabs at your wrists, pinning your hands out of the way, tracing his eyes from your crossed ankles up, taking all of you in.

You look really good in pink—looking demure, innocent even though he knows well enough that you’re not, but still . . . he wants to ruin you. Wants to mark you with his big hands and his dirty mouth and his cock. Wants to make you his, and only his.

“Do you like what you see?”

You’re making fun of him—maybe just to get rid of your own nerves—but fuck, yeah, he does. He likes it a lot.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie’s never been that good at keeping his thoughts to himself around you. He knows his face must give away everything, and normally he’d lie about it, say it was nothing, but now’s not the time for lies. “It’s nothing— I just- I kinda wish you were wearing this for me.”

Against his will, he thinks about Connor again. The idea of his clumsy hands at your waist, his stupid little patched tooth leaving marks against your neck, and his eyes taking in the way your tits look covered in pretty pink lace when he doesn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you.

You soothe his worries, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, the thought of Connor poofing into thin air.

“I am wearing it for you, Eddie. There’s nobody else,” —you take his hand in your own, place it over your stomach and press up until his fingers are wrapped around the curve of your breast— “I would rather be with.”

Fuck. He explores you with a wide-open palm, cupping your tit experimentally, capturing the soft skin under his thumb. He shifts, and you gasp a little, the back of his ring catching on the raised bud of your nipple, your mouth falling into the sweetest little o shape. And then he does it again. And again.

You reach out to him, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Can I see you?”

“Uh, yeah.” He stumbles back to the bed, blinded momentarily when you pull his shirt off over his head, your fists curled limply his chest as he rolls back onto the mattress, shifting until you’re beneath him.

Your skin grows warmer under his hands—one making indents at your waist with the press of his rings, and the other intertwined with your own, buried against the mattress with every heavy sigh and roll of his hips. He kisses you, over and over, each kiss longer than the last, growing bolder with the press of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth, feeling bolder when he hears your shaky breaths, feels the rise and fall of your stomach, soft against his.

And, god, there can’t be anything better than this. There can’t be. To have you here, in his arms, in his bed, your breaths ringing in his ears—it’ll dull the rest of the world.

“Eddie.” He’s pulled off your lips just long enough to hear you say his name, and he wants to hear it again, kissing along your jaw to keep your mouth free.

“What, baby?” he asks with your earlobe caught between his teeth, sucking it into his wet mouth, filled with a thrill when he feels your neck go taut, head rolling back against his pillow.

“Fuck, Eddie. I need you.”

God, how long has he waited to hear you say that? He leans back so he can meet your eyes, his hair falling down in curtains around your face like your own private canopy—a private space with you and him and nobody else. “Yeah?”

You nod, speaking between heavy breaths. “Yeah.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your knuckles, fingers still entwined with yours.

“Anything for you.” And he means it.

Sitting back on crossed ankles, he tries not to stare at the way you’re sprawled across his sheets, gripping your hips in both hands. You slide towards him with a laugh when he pulls you flush against his hips, eyes wide with surprise—or maybe it’s delight—knees parted around his waist and hair splayed out behind you.

He keeps his eyes on your face, running his palm up the inside of your thigh. His fingers fit perfectly in the space between your thighs, cupping your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet.”

You were soaked through before, but he can’t give all the credit to the rain, pressing the tip of his middle finger tight against your hole, stroking back and forth against the warm, damp fabric. Your lips press tighter together as you shift back on your shoulders, freeing up your hips to move against his hand.

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Eddie pulls back, gripping the largest of his rings—the one on his middle finger—in his other hand, wiggling the pig’s head from where it rests against his knuckles. The others clink against the first in his open palm, catching your attention.

“What are you doing?” You sit up, gripping at his wrist with your eyes on his hands. His fingers feel naked without the heavy metal, and he flexes them uneasily.

“I was gonna, uh, finger you?”

It’s hard not to laugh, saying it out loud instead of just thinking about it. Eddie’s always told you everything, except this. He’d steered clear on the topic of sex, not wanting to say something he’d end up regretting, and now his mouth is unsure how to form the words when he’s looking at you.

You bite at your lip, and he finds a little comfort in seeing that you look equally embarrassed. “Yeah, but . . . I want you to leave them on.”

Fuck.

“Seriously?” He knows he’s wide-eyed, lips splitting into a wide grin he couldn’t dream of hiding.

You just shrug in response. “You heard me.”

You won’t look at him, but he can’t keep his eyes off you as you take each of the rings in your own hand, slipping them back into place one finger at a time. It’s a honeyed gesture—made for soft mornings and sunny days. It’s got his heart cracking in two.

Eddie takes your chin in his hand when the rings are back where they belong, pressing gentle kisses—one to each cheek—giving you a little sugar of his own.

“Loud and clear, babe.”

You lay back against the bed again, a deep breath in your lungs as he peels away the slick fabric away from your center, parting your lips with one thick finger, fighting for air.

You’re so pretty like this. He’d thought you were pretty before, but this is next level—better than seeing you in the passenger seat of his van with the windows down, better than your teasing smile. He slides his middle finger inside the tight, wet channel of your cunt, feels you squeeze around him, and the word pretty has a whole new meaning.

You take him so well as he slides his finger in and out, deep as he can with the rings, your slick spend coating the metal with each thrust, and you move against him, the pace of your breath keeping time with his thrusts.

“That feel good?”

He takes his eyes off your cunt for just a moment, crumbling a little when he finds your own hands wrapped around your tits, lace cups pulled down so you could squeeze at your nipples, back off the mattress with the way his thumb stutters against your clit.

“I need more, Eddie.”

Fuck, he’s gonna give it to you, already sliding another finger beside the first, increasing the speed until any sounds coming from you mouth have to compete with the wet sucking sound of your greedy pussy. His other arm wraps across your hips, burying his fingers against the bone, trying to hold you still so he can massage your clit with the tip of his thumb.

“Eddie,” you say, desperation in your voice like fucking heroine.

“Already, baby?” he’s panting, the muscles in his arms starting to seize, as if that would get him to stop. He changes tactics instead, shifting just slightly to improve the angle, pressing against your slick front wall with two fingers. His thumb bears down on your clit, and your walls draw in tighter around him, soft tremors echoing through his hand. He watches you, insatiable, licking his lips at the way your tits shake, your hands clutching his sheets tight enough to tear.

“Fuck,” you try to tell him off, but the message is weakened by your little moans, “don’t make fun of me.”

“Why not? It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

Or it was. His new favorite thing to do is definitely making you cum. With his rings grazing your folds, he feels you squeeze around his fingers, thighs shaking at his sides, and he’s more than content to watch you put the pieces of yourself back together, brushing your clit once or twice because he likes the way you spasm.

He slides from you, flopping down on the pillow beside you with a stupid grin, wiping his hand off on the sheets so he could turn your eyes towards him, holding your face in his hands.

You’ve finally got enough of your breath back to respond, face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“You want to?”

You want to? Typical smart-ass comment—Eddie’s said that to most of the people he knows, since he hears fuck you pretty regularly. The asshole jocks at Hawkins High never knew what to do when their threats of violence were met with his indifference, and his friends always got a kick out of it. He’s never said it to you before, though. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it when you inevitably said no.

So his heart’s beating a little too fast for his liking when you plant a hand against his chest, catching his lips against your own in a gentle kiss. “Yeah. I want to.”

He just barely manages to resist the urge to say really?, still in shock when your palm grazes over his crotch, popping the button of his jeans.

“You got something?”

He can only nod, reaching into his nightstand drawer as you help him shimmy from his pants, kissing you, harsh and open-mouthed, so you won’t think about how awkward he is at doing both.

Eddie’s palms are too sweaty to reliably tear open the condom package, so he opts to use his teeth, shucking his boxers off and kicking them to the edge of the bed up on his knees.

“Wow.”

You’re staring at him, wide-eyed, tongue peeking out between your plush lips. Staring at his dick.

“What is it?”

His voice is high and vulnerable—cracking like a fucking middle-schooler. Nobody’s ever told him that there was anything weird about his cock, but it would be just his luck that all of them were too polite—or high—to mention it.

“Nothing, it’s just,”—you press your lips together again, wiggling a little, embarrassed, “you’re bigger than I’d thought you’d be.”

God damnit. You’re trying to kill him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s bright red down to his neck as he shifts onto his elbows, sliding between your thighs.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, even though it gives away how totally and completely pleased he is, fucking over the moon thinking about you thinking about his cock.

“Please?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, and yeah, of course he’s gonna give you what you want.

One hand guides his cock towards your entrance, the other cups the back of your head, pulling you close so he can feel the little gasp on your lips at the pressure, the head of him just stroking over your entrance, circling your clit.

Your nails scratch along his shoulder blades. He feels your whisper at his neck.

“What did I say about teasing me, Munson?”

He laughs. “That I should do it as often as possible?”

Whatever you’re about to say in response is cut off with a sharp gasp as he presses the head inside your cunt, sliding in the first few inches with relative ease, your body still loose from your first release.

“You good?” he asks, waiting for your nod before he shifts forward. You’ve got your fingers curled against the base of his scalp, tugging a little at the roots.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” But the answer is no. He’s ready to bust—not even a two-pump chump at this point. Feeling your body envelop him is better than he’s ever imagined. Tighter, and wetter, definitely, but also more passionate—hearing and feeling and seeing how totally and completely you want him.

He’s got to start slow, and it’s so goddamn soft—the way you open for him, legs stretching wider to accommodate his thrusts, your gentle kisses at his neck, soft doe eyes looking up at him like you’ll die if he looks away.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Way too fuckin’ good.”

He knows he’s babbling, cupping your cheek in one hand, brushing the stray hair out of your face so he can watch you. If he’s lucky, you don’t even hear him—cock-drunk already by the sound of your moans. If he’s lucky, you feel as good as he does right now.

If he’s lucky, you’ll let him do this again.

You clasp your hand over his, fingers exploring the surface of his rings, and there are tears in your eyes, hips meeting his with every thrust, such pretty little noises pouring from you when he hits that spot deep inside you, cunt squeezing him tighter than he thought possible, swallowing up every ridge and vein like his cock was made for you. He grips your hip tight in his other hand, pulling you closer, hard enough to bruise. You don’t seem to mind.

“I’m- fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last,” he has to admit it now—too far gone for shame—vision going spotty, little white lights obscuring your features until he can hardly see you at all.

He buries his head in your neck, but there’s no judgement, just your voice in his ear. “I want you to, baby. Cum inside me.”

He does. A deep groan ripping its way out his chest, he spills inside you, the muscles in his core spasming as the pleasure shoots through him. He feels it in the base of his spine, in the palms of his hands, in his chest, mind far off because he didn’t know it could feel that good and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

His cock is still throbbing inside you when he feels your hand snake its way between your sweaty bodies, fingers rubbing tight circles at your clit, moving faster and faster, jaw clenched tight with a high, keening whine, cunt squeezing until you’re gushing around him, dampening the thick hair at the base of his cock, dripping on the sheets.

“Fuck.”

His body rocks with the same convulsions you feel, so intimately entwined it’s almost like he’s cumming again, body shaking and exhausted, too tired to even slip his cock from between your legs long after you’ve gone still. Instead, he rolls onto his back—away from the wet spot—arms wrapped around you, pulling you along with him until your weight is pressing him into the mattress.

“Wow,” you tell him, head pillowed against his chest. You still haven’t caught your breath enough for full sentences. He’s not much better.

“I know.”

You trace the lines of his tattoo with the tip of your finger, and it tickles a little. He can feel your heart rate slow. “I wish I’d have known it would be like that ages ago. I would have tried to fuck you a lot sooner.”

“I would have let you.”

It feels so good, being this honest. He’s got nothing left in him to hide.

You shift your hips enough to let his cock slide out from you—still a little sensitive as it lands against his thigh. You’re wiggling your shoulders next, trying to pull out of his grasp. Eddie just tightens his hold, locking his hands behind your back.

“Eddie,” there’s a little bit of a whine in your voice, “I gotta go pee.”

He just shakes his head with a little laugh. “Not yet, baby. I think it’s time for round two.”

He lets you sit back just enough you can look him in the eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, baby. I’ve been waiting for this too damn long. We’re just getting started.”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things season four #minors dni #requests #anons #my writing #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fics

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prodbyblush · 1 year

Text

otra vez - suguru niragi

ｎｏｗｌｏａｄｉｎｇ …

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ not requested

an: i haven't even finished s2 but i wanted to get this out already. so enjoy the first niragi fluff from s2!

cw: blood and cursing!

wc: 4.5k words, to be exact 4,550 words

→ fem!reader

Twenty minutes left into the King of Clubs game and it seemed that all hope is lost. At least, that is what Y/N is thinking as she walks around the shipping containers.

With a gap of three thousand points, she needed to at least find two items to overthrow the other players, to overthrow the King of Clubs himself and deem herself and her teammates as the winners and leave the place with their lives and limbs in tact.

But with the time kept ticking and only one item left to find, she knew that leaving this place is nothing more than a distant dream.

The old world wasn't so bad. Sure it was filled with violence and hate, but the people in the old world still used their common sense; hence why the world still went on and on and on and on and on.

Whereas this world has abandoned all common sense all for the sake of one thing: to survive.

"Hey" She heard a voice call out to her. She didn't needed to lift her head up to know who was talking to her.

"Got a minute? Wanted to talk to you about something." He tells her.

"Go away." Y/N replies, sending Niragi a sharp look. "I don't want to talk to you. You and Usagi may have come to terms but I'll never-"

"Can you just listen to me for one goddamn minute?!" Niragi cuts her off, raising his voice. "Fuck. Were dying already and you're still stubbornly refusing to listen to me? Listen to what I have to say first so I won't look for you in the afterlife nor when we get reincarnated or shit!"

That ought to shut Y/N up. With Niragi's current state right in front of her, a small part of her felt bad for him. Given his body state, she could at least treat his burn marks with the cream in her bag, clean his wounds and bruises with antiseptic wipes and apply a new bandage on his body and arms.

Wait, why was she thinking of all that?

When she is prepared to listen to what Niragi has to say, the male immediately turned his back on her, coughing out blood into the pavement.

"Do you see that, Y/N? I don't have much time." He says, snickering under his breath before slowly turning to look at her.

"Perfect timing, right? I'm pretty pitiful too look at too, right?" He asks her.

"Save your energy!" Y/N replies without hesitation. "I have antibiotics in my bag and clean clothes that'll fit you! We just have to-"

"Don't be stupid, Y/N." Niragi says, walking up to her and holding her by her shoulders. "You and I are going to die."

Pursing her lips into a thin line, her eyes began to sting and before then, hot tears cascaded out, damping her cheeks.

"You looked at me like that...when we first met." Niragi says, chuckling softly as his hands slowly reach up to cup her face, thumbs wiping away her tears.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. You still look so pretty just like when we first saw each other in school."

With their close proximity, Y/N could smell the dried blood and soot off him, sending a painful pang in her chest, causing her to sniff and let out a sob.

"I'm scum, Y/N. But even scums have feelings!" Niragi irrates, his hands holding onto her shoulders now firmly. "Out of all the disgusting looks I've received from people back then, you're the only one who looked at me...with love and kindness."

"In the twisted world, I found you." He whispers, looking into Y/N's face as she cries silently in front of him.

"In the face of death, I want to tell you that if we could go back in time...I'll learn how to stand up for myself and learn how to love you right. Give you a better life, be a better person for you."

"It's funny think that...in this world as well, we found each other." Niragi mentions, smiling a little. "Do you think a god is looking down at us? If so, I want to talk to that god and tell them, in my next life, I want to meet you again."

The two of them are at lost for words but neither of them needed to speak as their lips found each other's, kissing as if it's their last. Hands holding onto each other tightly as if the world is finally drawing closer to their end.

Tick tock, tick tock, the timer beeped. And as the timer gave its last time, the blimp explodes, the printed King of Clubs papers burning mid air before crashing down on the ground.

Turning their heads to look at the explosion, neither of them had anything to say. Did Arisu managed to beat Kyuma? Had Kuina and Usagi took over their base whilst distracted?

Two things are for sure: they'll never know who and how they won the game against the game master himself and for the most part, they are glad to have found each other in their arms; for the second and certainly not the last time.

TAGS: @retrospacealien @chishiya-of-diamonds

#aib x you #aib x reader #imawa no kuni no arisu #imawa no kuni no alice #niragi x reader #niragi suguru #niragi alice in borderland #alice in borderland #niragi x y/n #suguru niragi #alice in boderland x reader

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truly-twirls · 1 year

Text

among the stars - c. beomgyu

Word Count: 1,437

Warnings: Reader is in a depressive episode, toxic behaviors, slight food mention

Characters: Choi Beomgyu

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (Reversed but reader is also comforted)

AO3 Link

Tags: @beomqutie

🌱🌱🌱

“You fell asleep with the TV on again.”

“And what about it? You would’ve still fallen asleep.”

So this is how tonight’s gonna go… dammit.

“Y/N, wouldn’t it be easier to just.. let me be here?”

Your vision was a bit blurred from the blankets and dried tears, but you could still make out the figure of your boyfriend sitting in front of you. You could see his eyes, and what was behind them.

Annoyance.

Truly, it was mostly worry that filled Beomgyu’s eyes, but the slightest tinge of annoyance was present and that was all you could see.

He was sick of this. Of course he was. You’ve been glued to this couch for the past day and a half, only getting up to use the restroom. Food? No. Shower? No. Water? Only because Beomgyu brings you a water bottle every now and then.

To be fair though, you slowly fell into this state over the course of two weeks. So at the very least, the switch was such a shock to you.

Nor to your boyfriend.

“Baby, I’m trying my best for you here, the least you could do is tell me what’s on your mind, yeah?”

Even that’s too much for you right now. No one asked him to stick around, you definitely haven’t. Why would he put himself through this? Does he pity you that much?

“Then leave. I never asked you to bother with this sack of shit. Door’s right over there, Gyu.”

You didn’t dare meet his eyes as these sour words left your chapped lips.

“I never asked you to deal with how hard it’s been for us because of promotions, tours, late night practices, performances, have I? Why do you stay if I never asked you to?”

Your tongue felt knotted, blocking thoughts from becoming words with each breath. You know the answer, but for it to be reciprocated felt nearly– no, entirely impossible.

“I care about you, Gyu, I truly do. I love you, but this is different.”

“How is it different?”

“You’re out working on your career, making the most out of what’s being given to you, and here I am, rotting into this lump of leather. Tell me how us two compare to each other, it must be exhausting for you to waste any of the energy that you have at the end of the day when dealing with me.”

There was silence for a few moments as the man in front of you allowed your words, and his anguish, settle in.

“...What have I done to make you feel like this?” Beomgyu was fighting tears, but you didn’t notice. You still were focused on the wooden floorboards where your nearly empty water bottle sat.

“You must be feeling so over it. Over me. I was fine a while ago, but here I am again. Disgusting, not knowing what to feel other than hopeless. Not really sure about what. And everytime you see me on this damn couch, you have got to be annoyed. I know that I sure as hell would be if I saw myself fall into the same spot over and over again. Hell, I am fucking tired of this. So, I truly don’t understand why you’re still here, can you please just–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

You wanted to oppose your boyfriend’s words, but a small hiccup made your head involuntarily jerk towards Beomgyu’s face.

He was crying. You made him cry.

He wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his blue hoodie, letting out a dry chuckle, “I’m gonna be honest, that was a little mean, Y/N. I wish you wouldn’t see me like that.”

It was like a bucket of ice water was hurled at you, a breath of fresh air being sucked into your lungs. The weight of your epiphany almost made you collapse onto your tear-stained pillow.

Mean. That’s how your view of Beomgyu is being interpreted. Someone who’s so cruel and lacking sympathy when seeing their partner doesn’t bring them worry nor the desire to stick by their side. But rather it brings upon waves of disgust and resentment. Was that how you thought of Beomgyu as a boyfriend? As a person?

No. Absolutely not. Quite the opposite, in fact. You’ve never met someone as patient as Beomgyu, someone who would drop everything they were doing to simply listen to your word vomit for thirty minutes, someone who was willing to understand your state of mind and navigate such treacherous waters.

He was the most amazing person you’ve had the joy of meeting.

And you made him think otherwise.

“Oh Gyu… No. No, no, no, no.”

You felt your limbs surge with newfound energy to slide off the couch and reach towards Beomgyu, who kept a solemn expression.

“I’m sorry. I truly am, from the bottom of my heart. You didn’t deserve that, you’ve been doing everything you could, I’m so grateful baby..”

“Then why do you refuse me? You almost shun me from this place whenever you feel like this. I want to be next to you through anything the world or the mind may throw at us.”

“It’s hard for me to accept the fact that I actually have support, I guess.. It’s not just me by myself this time..”

“And it’s never gonna be just you. We can rot on this couch together.”

You chuckled, knowing that’s not really what either of you want. “I think the ground will suffice for now.” You placed a chaste kiss on Beomgyu’s cheek and rubbed his back.

“I don’t see you like that. I never have, but I am scared that one day you might. But you never disappointed me, you have never hurt me, you never not cared for me. Gyu, my heart will be yours as long as I’m still remembered.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you began again, “I’m going to trust you won’t ruin it.”

He stared at you in awe, not only from admiration at how well you were able to articulate yourself finally after nearly a week of not being able to do so, but also from how thankful to hear such a confession. He knew how difficult it’s been for you to fully trust someone with your endearments, and to be that someone? His heart was soaring among the clouds and stars.

“Y/N, I’ll protect your heart with everything I have. I only ask for one thing.”

As sweet as the reconciliation was, Beomgyu was still hurt from the words earlier, rightfully so.

“Please don’t take your emotions out on me. I don’t want to become your go-to release. I want you to be able to talk to me but not yell. Promise me that we’ll learn how to talk these types of things out?”

You nodded along as he spoke, truly reflecting on what he was saying and brainstorming ways to be able to prevent such conflicts. You had work to do, and you wanted to be the best partner and person for Beomgyu you can be. And honestly…

You wanted to be the best person for yourself too.

“I promise, Gyu.” You pressed tiny kisses along the palm of his left hand.

Giggles invaded the room as he leaned towards your face and pressed several kisses on your face in return. Soft embraces as the two bodies fell over as you relished in each other’s comfort. You wiped any remaining tears from your boyfriend’s cheeks and kissed him once more.

“I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much more.”

- Two months later -

The two of you sat on a bench at a park near your apartment, the weather was chilly and the moon was shimmering in brilliance. You had just come back from a celebratory dinner with your coworkers after receiving a promotion, and Beomgyu had recently been given a week long vacation after a successful comeback.

Your head found its place on your boyfriend’s shoulder, you mindlessly twirled the ring that had recently met your left finger. A promise ring. You still haven’t wrapped your head around the fact that after such a long line of heartbreaks and hurt, you had found someone who would become the support to your foundation, and to be there when there’s some instability.

You looked up at the night sky and learned that even in the light-polluted city of Seoul, among the stars there was always one being who’s spirit never diminished when you look at it.

And he was sitting right next to you, nodding off into a sweet slumber.

🌱🌱🌱

#heyyyy lol #um so yes i have been in and out but uhh #trust me i rlly enjoy writing #the spurs of motivation are sparse sometimes lol #hope you enjoyed :)#truetwirls writes #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt fluff #txt hurt/comfort #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu comfort #beomgyu angst #kpop fanfiction #hurt/comfort

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green-thots · 20 days

Text

Life Waster - CL16 x FemDriver!Reader - Chapter One

Masterlist Next

Authors Note: This took me absolutely forever because I spent more time thinking and watching edits of Charles on TikTok than I did doing actual writing. There’s probably a lot of typos and grammar mistakes so just ignore that. Additionally, any feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: Swearing, slight mention of death, mentions of weed, if I missed any please tell me

—

A Grammy and Rock Sound feature was always the goal, but shit happens I guess. Life was great, we were selling out stadiums and on the verge of our first world tour; then he died and everything fell apart. Formula 1 was always Dad’s dream, not mine, but I think a piece of me died along with him, and I threw myself into racing to fill the JJ-sized hole in my heart. All I was left with was a hard drive of the songs we had written over the years and a letter telling me to go kick some ass. I dove headfirst into the depths of uncertainty and somehow still made it out on top.

“Ms. L/N, we’re here.” The driver calls from the front seat, looking at me in skepticism through the rear view mirror.

I mutter in thanks as I open the car door and step out toward the doors of the front office, backpack in tow. The only directions left for me in the email were to head to the front office in the morning and someone would guide me from there. There’s a lady at the desk with black glasses perched atop her nose as she tapped away at her computer. She barely acknowledges me at first, but after a few seconds of standing there, she looks up at me.

”Oh, hello,” She says with a kind smile, “What can I help you with?”

“Uh, I’m Y/N L/N. I was told that someone would meet me at the front office.” I naw the inside of my cheek, slightly terrified at the new environment.

”Oh, yes. We’ve been expecting you,” If possible, her smile grows wider and she picks up the receiver of the phone, beginning to dial a number, “I’ll call down and let Mr. Horner know that you’ve arrived.”

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before she starts to speak into the phone. “Hi, Christian. Ms. L/N is down at the office.” She pauses while the other person on the phone speaks. “Okay, thank you, buh-bye.”

”April is on her way down to get you and give you a tour,” she says, her French accent much more prominent than it was before. “In the meantime, I’ll get you all set up.”

She digs around below her desk for a moment, before finally popping up and setting a keycard on a red lanyard with the words ‘driver’s pass’ on the desk in front of me. “This is your temporary pass, you’ll get a new one with your picture on it after media and such is done, but for now this is going to get you wherever you need to go on the property.”

“Thank you,” I say with a nod, as a tall girl in a Red Bull Racing jacket walks through the door to the right.

The lady at the desk smiles at the other girl and says, “I’m Susie and I’ll always be here for whatever you need. Trust me, those boys can be a handful.”

I force a smile at her, praying it looks genuine enough because I knew what kind of shit storm I was walking into and still signed the contract anyway, like an idiot.

The tall girl holds out her hand to me and says, “Lovely to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” She talks fast and barely gives herself a second to breathe before continuing. “I’m April, and I’ll be your personal trainer, assistant, therapist, honestly just whatever you might need while you’re here with the Red Bull teams.”

There’s a hint of humor to her voice so I try to let out a laugh, but it’s hard when I’ve spent the last year or so wallowing in self pity.

“I know this whole experience is much different than F2 and I hate to rush you while you take it in but we do have to get started with the tour so you can meet Mr. Horner before he leaves for his debrief.” April says, grabbing her own pass off her neck, which instead says ‘staff’ and turns toward the door she came through before.

“If I would have known I was meeting important people today I would have worn something nicer than a hoodie.” I grumble to myself.

April must have heard me because she wiggles her finger at me with a smirk on her face and says, “You’re funny, I like you.”

We walk in silence out into the parking lot between the front building and the massive team building. April asks, “Do you have a car over here yet?”

”No, I haven’t really got around to that yet.” I reply, taking in the view of all the sports cars lined up that probably cost more than the house I grew up in each.

“Oh, well when you do, this is driver parking. Most guys tend to keep a car at their homes here rather than taking a cab since it’s a lot of back and forth.” She gestures to all of the cars parked in front of their respective sections. “The guard over at the side gate will buzz you in 24/7 if you just show him your pass.”

“Good to know.” I say as we walk up to the two glass doors with the Red Bull logo painted above.

The opening lounge is small, but still gives a feeling of comfort, rather than sterile like the front office. There are trophies lining the shelves on the walls and two World Champion trophies are held in a glass case front and center.

“Your home base is actually in the Alpha Tauri section next door but the team is meeting here for the sake of simplicity.” April says, throwing a smile at me over her shoulder as she turns left down the hallway.

She stops at a door labeled ‘boardroom’ and winks at me saying, “They aren’t as scary as they seem.”

Well that’s comforting.

April knocks twice and opens the door to reveal to reveal four guys seated around the table; two of which dressed head to toe in Red Bull gear as if they just stepped out of a commercial, one of which in a full suit, and the shortest one dressed as if he had just woken from a nap.

“Mr. Horner, this is Y/N.” April says, gesturing to me as I step into the room behind her. I’ve never met Christian Horner outside of a five minute phone call but I can only assume who he is as the man in the suit stands up and holds out his hand to me.

”Y/N L/N, it's so great to finally meet you in person.” Christian says, shaking my hand. “Unfortunately I do have to get going because the engineers can get quite pissy when things are behind schedule, but I suppose you know all about that from Formula 2, right?”

”Yeah, my team had quite the attitude.” I say, trying to sound funny but somehow sounding like the uptight bitches I used to race with back in F3.

“Anyways,” he says, still keeping up his diplomatic smile. “Boys, this is Y/N L/N, the new driver for Alpha Tauri. I’ll let you all introduce yourselves.”

Christian excuses himself and heads out the door, leaving me with April, who is still somewhat of a stranger, and the three men who I have only ever seen on TV.

The first guy stands up and gives me a smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms, “I’m Daniel Riccardo, I actually drive for Red Bull but we’ll probably still see a lot of each other.” He points at the guy next to him and continues. “Mr. Two Time World Champ over here is Max Verstappen, I assume you know who he drives for.”

Max nods at me and says, “Welcome to the team, Y/N.” His Dutch accent very prominent.

Finally, Daniel turns to the guy at the end of the table, “Last but certainly not least, the little firecracker over there is Yuki Tsunoda.”

Yuki rolls his eyes at the nickname and starts, “Hey, I’ll be driving on Alpha Tauri with you.”

”Firecracker as in his favorite English word is fuck and he sure knows how to use it,” April chimes in, a near permanent smile stuck to her face.

Yuki smiles and laughs quietly as Max says, “I trust April will get you all ready for media day tomorrow.”

”I was really hoping I was done with photoshoots but I guess even a change in career didn’t help with that.” I say, still not fully believing that this wasn’t a dream and I’m actually in Formula 1.

“Well, we better continue with our tour and let the boys get back to whatever work I know they are trying to avoid.” April says, eyeing Daniel with a knowing look as she opens the door to the hall.

“See y’all tomorrow,” I say, looking back at the group of guys staring at me. I then follow April out the door, a chorus of goodbyes yelled behind me.

April leads me back outside and then through the glass doors to the Alpha Tauri section. She finally stops once we reach a door that had already been labeled with my last name.

”This is your drivers room,” She says, opening the door to a plain room with a couch and a small vanity, “Feel free to decorate however you see fit.”

I can already visualize my plans for the room; some scenic pictures to hang on the walls, a few comfy blankets to throw on the couch for naps in between meetings, and maybe a cute rug to cover up the concrete floor.

April gestures to the closet next to the vanity, “Your fireproofs, suit, helmet, and any other gear you may have ordered are in the closet.”

Set on the vanity is a vase of flowers with a card tucked under the vase. I step over and pick up the card, carefully tearing open the envelope, and reading it. Inside are the words, ‘Welcome to The Grid, Y/N’ and it seems to have been signed by every driver on The Grid.

”I think they’re trying to make a good impression on the first female competitor they’ve seen in a long time; you might even be the first for the newer ones.” April says, looking over my shoulder.

“Well it takes a lot more to impress me than flowers, I mean even my freshman prom date bought me flowers.” I say, laughing at their attempt to soften me up.

”Your garage is right down the hall and it's labeled so you’ll be able to find it easily. Sadly, we can’t go in today, but you’ll get to see the car on Wednesday when you meet your engineer and we start the first round of pre-season practices.” April says, leaning up against the closet, “You’ll have to be ready to go for media in the main building with all your gear tomorrow at 1:00 but feel free to get ready here.”

”Well at least I’ll get to sleep off some of this jet lag,” I joke.

”That’s the spirit, take every moment you get to sleep, it’ll help.” April says, rubbing her hands together as she continues, “Now, we go meet the Athletic Trainer for a pee test and your first physical.”

Well I guess that means no more pot for me.

I flop face first down onto my bed, well if it can really be considered a bed. Right now I’m just sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my apartment. I haven’t had the time or energy to unpack so everything is just sitting around in boxes, and the furniture I did buy, has yet to be built or unboxed.

My physical lasted much longer than I had anticipated; the strength testing and medical assessments taking up much of the rest of the day. The six hour time difference is really beginning to take a toll on me and I am nearly asleep when my phone buzzes next to me.

Dad: Your mom showed up at my doorstep, screaming that you were nowhere to be found. Care to explain?

Fuck that. I’ll deal with him in the morning.

As I stand before the mirror, dressed in my race suit with my hair loosely curled and my makeup freshly done, I have to take slow, deep breaths to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. All eyes are going to be on me today because the first woman on The Grid in nearly ten years is sure to be a spectacle for the other drivers and staff. I should be used to having people stare at me. Hell, I spent years performing on stage in front of massive crowds. But my ‘fall from grace’ as the Rock world has dubbed it, has caused me to hate the constant stares of others. Formula 1 might not have been the best choice of career, but I need to take back the piece of my childhood that I cherished dearly.

My phone dings from its place on the vanity;

April: We’re nearly ready to start shooting, so get over here as soon as you can :)

If these guys have managed to find anything about who I was years ago, I’m sure their opinions of me are already set in stone, but I still can’t let holding up the order of business lead them to think I’m inconsiderate to everyone else’s schedule.

I speed-walk my way out of the Alpha Tauri building and over to the main building, carrying my helmet just in case I need it for a photo.

When I enter the room where the cameras were being set up, all the drivers were huddled around in little circles. The lively colors of each team’s uniform were intermixed, showing that they all must get along well. If they don’t like me, it seems that I’ll be spending the majority of the next year alone.

With the spectacular luck that life has given me, the door is extremely squeaky, causing everyone to look up at me. Immediately, Max waves me over to the group he was standing with.

Hesitantly, I walk over and the tall blonde guy in the Mercedes uniform eyes me with a smile.

”Well you look scared shitless,” He says, the slightly devious but still kind smirk present on his face.

”Don’t be a dick, George,” The French one next to him says as he elbows George in the stomach, “I’m Pierre. Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.”

”Hey, I’m not that bad,” George throws back, giving Pierre a slight shove. The other guys laugh at their antics, so I force out a little laugh.

I barely get another second to listen to their introductions before a staff member calls out, “L/N, you’re up first! Tsunoda, you’re on deck!” I send an awkward wave to the group as I walk over to where the cameras are set up.

”Alright, we’ll need you to fill out the first day of F1 board.” The staff member says, passing a chalkboard to me.

I begin to fill it out.

Name: Well that’s easy.

Season: #1

I Am From: Miami, FL

My Fave Food Is: Mac & Cheese

My Hype Song Is:…

I’m tempted to put one of my songs here, but I think I’ll make them work harder to discover that piece of me.

My Hype Song Is: Gimme Gimme Gimme - Abba

This Year I Will: Kick ass.

I stand in front of the camera as the photographer snaps a few photos of me with the board. Again, everyone in the room is staring at me.

”Hey Logan, we found you a Floridian!” George calls out in the direction of the blonde in the Williams Racing suit.

Tall blonde- who must be Logan- gives me a bright smile and calls out, “we gotta represent, girly!”

I actually let out a laugh at this as a staff member takes the board from me and sets me up for the headshots. Not knowing what the usual protocol for Formula 1 headshots is, I give the camera a light smile.

I can feel someone staring at me intently, as if they look hard enough they could see the deepest parts of my soul. When I look over to the area behind the camera where all the drivers are standing around, I immediately see Mr. Laser Eyes.

He’s partly concealed by the shadows but his dark eyes still bare into my soul. His hair is a dark and curly mess, like he’s just gotten out of bed; but damn does he make bedhead look good. He’s dressed in an almost too tight Ferrari suit. He towers over Tsunoda, but that isn’t too hard to achieve.

We hold eye contact for a few seconds; it's almost magnetic, before he shifts his eyes back to the conversation he was having with Pierre and George.

“Okay, that’s all we needed,” The photographer says, motioning me off the stool as he calls for Tsunoda.

I walk back over to Pierre, George, and the Ferrari driver who had been staring at me. Immediately, he looks me up and down with a smirk before saying, “Good choice of music, rookie.”

My face heats up, and I’m sure I look like a walking tomato. “Yeah, Momma Mia is my favorite musical.” I say quietly.

George and Pierre start snickering to themselves quietly as the Ferrari driver says, “I’m Charles Leclerc.”

Even his accent is fucking sexy.

“Y/N L/N.” I reply.

”Don’t worry, everyone knows your name already.” Charles says with a little laugh. This puts a look of fear and shock on my face.

”In two weeks time, everyone in the world is going to know your name.” George says, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

”Yeah that makes me feel a lot better, thanks Princess.” I spit back sarcastically, using the well-known nickname the media has given George in recent years. Pierre cackles hysterically, so much so that he struggles to catch his breath.

After a bit of throwing sarcastic insults back-and-forth with George, and him taking his turn for headshots, individual pictures are complete.

“Wait, we have to get a group picture of this years’ rookies!” Max calls, a devious smile on his face as he looks in my direction. I roll my eyes as I walk over in front of the camera and am joined by Logan and the blonde McLaren driver.

“I’m Oscar,” the McLaren driver says and he and Logan stand on either side of me. We put our arms around each other's shoulders “to show unity” as the photographer told us. The three of us gave bright smiles to the camera, trying to show that Formula 1 isn’t as scary as it seems when in reality, all of us are terrified to step out onto that track for the first time.

“Alright, lets get all of the drivers out here now.” The photographer says after snapping. Few photos of Logan, Oscar, and I. Immediately, the staff get to work on moving a bunch of prop boxes out into the studio as all the drivers flood the area. I’m directed by the photographer to sit on the tallest box, which I do have to get a running start to jump up on, and lean back on my hands with my legs crossed.

After a few moments of getting everyone else into position, the photographer finally gives us the signal to get our game faces on. Noticing that no one else is smiling at the camera, I tilt my head back a bit and glare at the camera. Although I am the highest up and the farthest back, I’m sure you will still be able to pick up my noticeable annoyance by looking at me in the photo.

“Everyone is free to go!” A lady, who I’m assuming is the head of media, yelled into the crowd of drivers. As everyone disperses, I’m speed walking to the door as to get out of there as quickly as possible, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip around to see George, Pierre, Oscar, Logan, and a few other drivers I haven’t formally met yet.

George looks at me with puppy eyes as he says, “We’re going out to get drinks, do you want to come with?”

They’re all staring at me intently, waiting for my reply.

”I can’t. I actually haven’t even unpacked my stuff yet and the furniture for my apartment hasn’t been built yet so I better get on that.” I say, avoiding eye contact so I don’t have to see the disappointed looks on their faces.

”What if we help you unpack?” The British, curly-haired boy asks, before saying with a wink. “Lando Norris, at your service. Do you have booze?”

I freeze up, not expecting them to want to change their plans to hang out with me so soon after meeting them. “I mean I guess, but my fridge is completely empty, so no booze.”

”Eh, we’ll just make Max pick some up on his way,” Lando says, waving it off while George yells, “Fuck yeah, party time!” Leading the entire room to burst into laugher.

Well, this is either going to end in losing my security deposit or getting so drunk that I won’t remember what embarrassing shit I’m sure to do by tomorrow morning.

#Life Waster #Lynnie’s word vomit #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #formula one #formula 1 #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #george russell #lando norris #original character #oscar piastri #logan sargeant

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dollyyyhouse · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

An AU where the demons involved in the exchange student program have always plotted to sacrifice the humans in the program.

This is an edit! I'm adding some content warning because I originally forgot to add some :}

CW: Mentions and descriptions of violence, mostly a horror AU!

Poor sleep habits were common, nothing unusual for people like yourself, but ever since your arrival in the Devildom; sleeping peacefully seemed like a thing of the past. You began to toss and turn in your sleep, night terrors of violent scenes, all of which involved YOU playing the poor and helpless victim flooded your dreams, and those few seconds you faded in and out of sleep— you could hear ghastly cries for help to YOU and ineligible mumbling in your ear. Perhaps it was your mind playing tricks on you?

No. You swore it wasn't, the Avatars of Hell even explained the story behind the House of Lamentation. The macabre and brutal murders that took place and how poltergeist roamed the halls in search of either revenge or rest— for all you knew, you might have stood in the exact same place as a victim during the attacks! Were the same entities that had died in the murders the ones whispering and crying out for help to you?

Some nights, all you could do was helplessly lay in your bed, praying for a sun that would never come out. Oh, how you wished to see the light of day during those lonely nights. All you could do was find beauty in the little things; and that's exactly what you did.

One evening, you confided in the second eldest brother, Mammon, about your fears of living in the house, along with your night terrors. "Huh? What are ya' yapping about, human?" Mammon looked at you in a funny way, as if you were some weirdo. "Uh, well, I don't know," you let out an awkward laugh, "I guess it's just my imagination that's making me feel uneasy. You did explain that all sorts of ghost and ghouls exist in the Devildom." The demon laughed, "Aha! The Great Mammon is always right!"

"I told ya', stop freaking out over no big deal, not like anything can hurt you with me watchin' over ya'!" Mammon slung his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close, almost too close. It was like he always wanted to have power over you. Even if he didn't boast about it outright— Mammon, along with all of his brothers and the others involved in the exchange student program, were one step ahead of you. "Those dumb little ghost can't do anything. All they do is whine and groan about the past, just don't talk to them. " Little by little, you tuned Mammon out. You originally didn't mean to, you had just fallen down a rabbit hole of thoughts. When you realized he was still complaining about 'this' and 'that', you just grew tired of listening to the greedy man speak.

You parted ways from the demon, using the excuse of wanting to wash up and have some alone time in the bathroom. Truth be told, Mammon's words didn't soothe you at all. His statement about how the ghost only ever "complain about the past" struck a nerve with you, how could they not? Majority of them died pitiful deaths and were cursed to roam a house with a tainted reputation.

So, here you were. Fresh out of the bath, brushing your teeth and planning on heading to bed soon after. You spit out the left over toothpaste, glancing at your reflection in the foggy mirror before looking down into the sink, you resumed brushing, catching another glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You spit again, in the upper corner of your eye, you see a young girl in a tattered and bloody nightgown, you go to grab a cup — wait what?

Flipping around, you see no one. "Holy shit.. I need to get a grip of myself!" You mumble. Turning back to the mirror, a message appeared to form in the foggy and damp mirror. "Run." You weren't sure if that was the message intended, the writing looked as if a child had written it in a rush. Deep down, you prayed it was just a young poltergeist playing tricks on you, maybe the kid had eavesdropped on your conversation with Mammon?

You discarded your towels on the bathroom counter, hurrying over to your closet to dig for pajamas before someone saw you naked. Once you grabbed a nightgown, you quickly threw it on and jumped into bed— hoping that you could fall asleep before the monsters came out to play.

It truly seemed like everyone and everything around you was always one step ahead of you. When you shifted in your bed, you were met with a pair of eyes only displaying a mortified expression. When you blinked, they were gone. Retreating under the blanket, you curled up and made sure the blanket was properly tucked underneath you and that not even a toe would be seen; only allowing a small pocket of air for your nose. "I feel too much like a scared child right now, damn it, it's so stuffy underneath this stupid blanket!" Shutting your eyes, a pout formed on your lips and your brows furrowed.

The security of the blanket seemed to help you, because just a few moments later, you were slowly falling into sleep, but conscious enough that even a creak of a door would alert you. Usually the night terrors would wait until you were in a deep sleep to begin; but this time they begun early.

Your thoughts were hazy, you could barely keep up with the dialogue running through your dream, but familiar figures lurked throughout the dream.

"Stop this! Please! I thought I could trust you!" Those words fell from your lips, only to fall upon deaf ears. Your body moved on it's own, as much as it possibly could with the ropes holding your body into the shape of a star. "Barbatos, is everyone ready to begin our precious exchange student's graduation ceremony?" A grand voice spoke, the owner of the voice was all too familiar, along with the name he mentioned. Nothing made sense, but neither did the 8 other hooded figures surrounding you. All of the demons began to chant an unknowing curse, the man who spoke first stood beside you, wielding a large knife. "No, no, no, no, no! Stop, I did everything I was supposed to! I thought you were meant to keep the human exchange student alive no matter what!—" In a swift motion, the tall figure stabbed you in the chest, twisting and forming a shape in your lower chest to upper gut.

And just like that, you woke up and recollected all the other scenes in your night terrors. All had similar dialogue and the same hooded figures, almost everything was the exact same, besides a few scenes where your restraints broke loose due to "your" thrashing. The nightmares weren't of you, instead, you were only a replacement for the past exchange student who suffered a fate you were soon also going to suffer.

The poltergeist around you were only trying to warn you. The demons you thought of as friends were the hooded figures of the dreams! How could you be so stupid to trust a demon, let alone 9 demons?! Your heart race increased, it seemed like at any moment your heart would just bounce out of your chest and run away!

It all made sense, the highest ranking demons of Devildom were always PLENTY of steps ahead of you. You didn't know when, but soon, you were going to be betrayed and slaughtered.

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forbidden-sin-bin · 1 year

Text

By Your Side | Chapter 2

Summary: You meet with the man who made Infinite, Eminem; Or as everyone calls him Marshall, for the very first time.

---

“The hell do you want?”

You were taken aback by his aggressive demeanor, wondering what you did to provoke his annoyance. “Hey, take it easy man.” You raised your hands to show surrender. “I don’t want any trouble-”

“Then why’d you stare at me?”

You blinked.

“Uh... what?”

“You were staring at me.” He repeated, a little bit slower this time like you were hard of hearing. “You stare at people, means you’re looking for a fight or you’ve got a problem with them.” The guy huffed, looking a little less miffed. “You don’t know that?”

‘Sounds like this place is way too goddamn sensitive.’ You mentally quipped, still, you kept that to yourself.

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ as you lowered your arms. “I do now though.”

He hummed, tilting his head at you inquiringly. “A’ight then, so what do you want?”

“Looking for a guy named Eminem.” You replied. “Or, you know, Marshall.” At the mention of both his artist alias and actual name, his brows raised in surprise for a moment before furrowing.

“That’s me. How’d-”

“The guy in the store told me that you had the cassettes for Infinite and all. Mind if I can snag a copy of your album?” You interrupted quickly.

His face morphed into a variety of emotions in a matter of milliseconds, ranging from surprise, to a glimmer of hope, and then back to suspicion and a mask of cynicism that he was so used to experiencing.

He was expecting disappointment, and he was long prepared for it as he gave you a scowl.

“Look, if this is a fuckin prank or something, just say it now.”

This time you had return the sour expression, half annoyed at his negative attitude, the other half confused as to how he came to that conclusion.

“Seriously?”

Marshall shoved his hands in his pockets, lifting his chin up to glare at you in a defensive manner. “I’m serious. Why the fuck would you wanna buy my album? There’s stuff like Kid Rock in that store ‘n shit. And how the hell did you know about it?” He shrugged, nodding towards your attire. “As far as I know, cause I know you ain’t from here, you had someone tell you about it.”

He was observant, that’s for sure. Yet his matter-of-fact tone like he already knew the situation and how it was going to end made your eyes flash with anger and chip harder at your patience that was running thin.

Not like you were a very patient person to begin with.

“And you think whoever told me is asking me, a total outsider that’s not from here, to pretend to be interested in buying Infinite?” You scoffed, hardly believing your own ears right now. “Actually, I saw the poster in the store myself, believe it or not; And no, this isn’t me feeling pity or some bullshit like that. I want to buy it cause I’m interested; I ain’t fucking with you buddy.”

The two of you stared each other down, neither letting up. You were beginning to have second thoughts, if he was so sure that you were messing around. ‘That’ll be his loss anyway.’ You thought, narrowing your eyes.

Finally, Marshall threw his hands up in an ‘oh well’ manner.

“A’ight. If you say so.” He motioned you to follow him as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “Didn’t answer my question though.”

You followed him close behind. “What, you mean why would I wanna listen to it?” He nodded, and you shrugged. “Well, call it my gut instinct; Out of all the album covers I saw, it was yours that caught my attention.”

“Uh huh... And?”

“And... I guess I had a feeling it might be worth listening to.”

“Even more than, oh, I dunno... Vanilla Ice?”

You gave him a disbelieving squint. “You serious? Nearly ruined hip-hop for me.”

Marshall didn’t say anything, but you swore you saw a ghost of a smile on his face, and you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back before asking:

“I really don’t look like someone who would be into rap music, huh?” This time, he actually broke into a brief grin.

“Fine, you got me.”

Unlocking the trunk of his car, he lifted the lid wide open, revealing a messy pile of cassettes, vinyl's, and CD’s, all of them Infinite. You in turn had already fished out the required six dollar cost that’ll pay more than enough for your new addition to your collection. “You know what? You’re pretty chill, my bad man.” He admitted.

You grinned, glad that you’re getting along well with him despite the rocky start. “All good, honestly I can’t blame you.” You paused before adding with a smirk. “Well, not too much, anyways.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” Raising his free hand, he stuck his middle finger at you playfully. “Well fuck you too.”

This time, it was your turn to laugh as you returned the gesture. ”Likewise.” Letting the obscene gesture stay in mid-air for a few moments, the two of you cracked up, looking away as you both tried to stifle your snickering.

“Okay, okay, seriously.” You managed to calm down and gave him a crisp ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Marshall raised a brow as if you were crazy. “You sure ‘bout that? I mean, I ain’t gonna say no, if you were expecting that.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“I’m serious. This isn’t a charity case or anything; just think of it as a future investment.” You winked, hopefully in an encouraging way and nothing else. “I got a good feeling you’re gonna go far.”

“Well then,” he took the bill out of your hand. “At least you’ve got more faith in me than my last manager-” He was about to hand you the cassette until a familiar voice hollered from behind you, making the both of you jump.

“MAMAAAAAAA!!!”

“Oh shit-!” Whipping around, your heart dropped to your stomach as you saw Quinn practically half-hanging out of the car window, arms flailing as he waved to get your attention. You could hear the voice of your mother shouting: “Quinn! Get down from there!”

At that point, you already knew she was holding into the edge of his winter jacket, trying to yank him back into his seat.

“Uh- hold that thought.” You sheepishly gave Marshall the finger guns as you began to walk backwards, jabbing a thumb behind you. “I’ve got somebody who needs me-”

The boy waved you off. “I ain’t going anywhere, go get your kid.” you gave him a thankful smile as you turned tail and practically sprinted towards the van.

“Quinn! What are you doing?!” Grabbing him by the shoulders, you gently pushed him back into his seat. “That was really dangerous, you know!”

Your mom finally let go of his jacket. “Look, he already wants to leave!” Forcing your temper down, you leaned into the open window, letting her angrily chastise you with a stony look on your face. “Are you done? Can you get back into the car, or are you going to idle around this place and waste your time?”

“I was talking to someone-” You were cut off just as soon as you tried to explain.

“Well stop talking and let’s go!” Your mom snapped as your dad was just as ready to hop onto the bandwagon of yelling at you into listening.

“Y/N, get in the car.” He warned. “Now.”

Clenching your jaw, you whipped back around and walked a few paces away from the van, hands clenched in fists as you fought to keep your rage in check.

Once in a while, you’d let it slide and keep your head down to avoid having to drag it out any longer. Having to hear it often - and sometimes you really didn’t know what you did to make them scold you - was tiring.

If it weren’t for Quinn quite literally in the middle of the conflict, you would’ve blown up at them by now. But no, you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You have to do it for him; You have to be better.

Taking in a deep breath, you strode back to the car and once again leaned into the window. Before they could say anything else, you simply announced:

“I made a friend.”

It wasn’t a lie, but to say Marshall was a ‘friend’ was a bit off. Either way, it made both your mom and dad shut up a little bit. It had been a while since you actually mentioned anything about friends, if you had any.

Your parents stared at you incredulously, not exactly understanding what you were trying to imply. “What does that have to do with anything?” Your dad demanded.

“It means: It’d be rude to just hop in the car now without saying goodbye to my ‘friend’, while we just ride all the way back to our hotel doing absolutely nothing until tomorrow. And by the way-” You gestured to the child pressing his ears shut with the palms of his hands. “You can yell at me later, okay? You’re scaring him.”

Thankfully, that seemed to have quieted everybody for now as they all looked at Quinn apologetically as he slowly lowered his hands. “Hey, baby... I’m sorry about that.” You patted his head comfortingly. “What did you want to call me over here for?”

The toddler looked back innocently. “I wanna go outside, please?”

You stared at him, exasperated. ‘Well, at least he gets right to the point.’

“What do you say?” Giving the child a stern look on your face, making yourself clear that you weren’t happy with how he handled that situation.

He looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Uh huh. And?”

“I won’t do it again.” He mumbled.

You sighed, stroking his hair. “Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear.”

Glancing inside of the car, you waved to your parents. “Just for a minute or two. The whole place is safe, don’t worry.” Smirking a little, you added: “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Not bothering to wait for their response, you swung the side door open and lifted him into your arms. “We’ll be right back!” You called to them as you kicked the side door shut and repositioned him into being held sideways like a plank of wood. “Alrighty mister, it’s time to fly!”

Quinn giggled joyously as you spun around a few times before setting him down, taking his hand in yours. “You wanna go say hi to one of my friends?” You asked him. He nodded, already more focused on avoiding the cracks in the ground than actually listening.

Leading him back to where an amused Marshall waited, the sheepish feeling returned as you rubbed the back of your neck with your free hand. “Sorry about that,” you started. “I, ah, hope you don’t mind my nephew tagging along.”

To your surprise, Marshall’s demeanor completely shifted. You watched as he bent down, smiling warmly at the suddenly shy toddler hiding behind your leg.

“Hey little man, what’s your name?” He held his hand out, offering him a handshake, but Quinn burrowed his face into your side.

You patted his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay baby. He’s not gonna hurt you, I promise.” You reassured him soothingly. “Why don’t you introduce yourself? Think of it like it’s the first day of school and you tell the whole class your name.”

Quinn was quiet for a few moments before he slowly turned to face Marshall, sticking an arm out. “Mmh... Quinn... Am’ four.” He managed to mumble out before hiding again, though he still stuck his hand out, and Marshall gently took it, doing a little handshake. You shared an amused look with him, holding back a laugh as you both knew he looked more like a three year old than what the child claims.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Quinn.” He replied in a soft tone, one that you didn’t expect. “You got a nice name y’know? My name is Marshall, but you can call me Eminem.”

Hearing the name of one of his favorite chocolate brands, the toddler stuck his head back out. “M & M’s?” His eyes glimmered with wonder, initial shyness beginning to fade away. “Like the chocolate?”

“Yeah!” Marshall grinned. “Do you like them?” The toddler nodded. “Woah, me too! Isn’t that cool?”

You watched the two interact silently, trying not to grin. ‘Who knew a guy who acts and dresses like a gangster could do so well with kids.’ You thought as you leaned down to join the conversation.

“Be careful honey.” You reminded him as Marshall let him see his pierced ears, tilting his head to the side so he could touch the golden hoops.

Having completely forgotten his timidness, Quinn brushed his fingers across the earrings. “Did they hurt?” He asked, admiring the shiny metal.

“A little,” he admitted. “But only for a little bit. After that, I’d completely forgotten.” Quinn nodded along.

“Mama’s got earrings too.” Both boys looked up at you. “Right Mama?”

“Right...” You trailed off, not knowing if you should correct him.

‘I really shouldn’t have let him get away with that, calling me something that I didn’t earn the rights to.’ You thought, holding back a sigh.

“That’s your mama, huh?” Marshall asked him, to which the child eagerly replied with an “Mm hm!”

“That’s cool, she’s a cool mom, ain’t she?” They shared a nod, which you held back a laugh. “What about your da-”

“HEY!! Hey, you wanna hold onto my music player baby?” You cut in, bitter ice rushing into your veins at the mere mention of Quinn’s dad. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice your panic as he was more eager to interact with your sacred walkman, bouncing excitedly.

You showed him the music player, holding it above his head as you laid out the ground rules.

“Alright, if you wanna hold it, promise me this: Do not drop it, do not wander off, and you have to be very, very gentle with it. Promise?”

His tiny hands reached for it. “I promise!”

Finally relenting, you gave him the walkman as he held onto it like a priceless treasure.

“You wanna sit here buddy?” Marshall patted the edge of the open trunk, giving you a quick look that clearly meant he wanted to talk to you. You gave Quinn a nod as he looked to you for permission, and he reached his arms out to him as he was picked up in a manner that only someone who dealt with kids before could do.

“Now you’re a big man.” He patted the toddler’s head before turning to you, moving closer so he wouldn’t eavesdrop.

“What was that all about?” He asked, frowning.

You sighed, putting your hands into your pockets. “Well, first off, he’s actually my nephew.”

“Huh...” Marshall furrowed his brows. “So, where’s his mom?” You saw this was coming, but that didn’t stop you from wincing a little.

“Gone.”

“What do you mean go- oh.” His face turned to one of realization. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged in a vacant manner. “It’s all good.” You quickly changed the subject, praying he wouldn’t bring up either parent any further. “You’re pretty good with kids, have you got any younger family members at home?”

He smiled, almost shyly. “Yeah, I got a little brother, Nate.” He looked down, trying hard to contain his sense of love and pride. “And I have my little girl, she just turned one last Christmas.”

‘Ah, so that explains it.’

“Definitely says a lot about you, y’know.” You returned his expression warmly. I’m glad I bumped into you when I did, I put in a damn good investment.”

“Aha, cause I know how to handle kids, or is it really cause of my rap skills?” Before he could hear your reply, he suddenly added: “Speaking of handling kids, you say that’s your nephew, how come he calls you mom?”

“Well-”

“Also, where’s his dad at?”

Giving him a grimace and a look that clearly showed you didn’t like to even think about the damn topic, his face turned to realization and disgust as he put the pieces together.

“Shit, he a deadbeat?!” There was heated snarl in his voice that matched the fiery rage lighting up his eyes. “Fuckin pussy jus’ fucked off and left his baby?!”

While your nod was a satisfying confirmation, his thoughts on this coward of a man weren’t. He turned away from you, muttering out insult after insult behind his breath before composing himself.

“Goddamn, I’m really sorry you have ta’ deal with that. It’s his loss, your boy’s a sweet kid.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” You replied, stealing a glance at Quinn, making sure he was still right where you left him. Sure enough, he hasn’t lost interest in your walkman at all.

“Well, there’s your answer. And judging by that look on your face, you want to ask me why the hell he calls me mom, eh?”

“Took the words outta my mouth.” He looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

You paused, feeling sheepish once again as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I mean - you know - I told you before, he’s my sister’s son. So... him calling me ‘mom’, well you know-

“-But you’re still his mom.”

You blinked in surprise, Marshall’s face turned into a slight frown.

“He sees you as his mom, and you take care of him like a mom.” He affirmed. “Doesn’t make your sister any less of his mom, but if he calls you mom, it’s cause you are his momma.”

There was silence after that, but not in an uncomfortable way; It was a few seconds of contemplative quiet, the occasional sound of cars passing by and Quinn’s fiddling with your walkman being the only background noise that gave way for a good time to consider his words.

Perhaps pausing one too many times before you finally found the words, you eventually replied: “You’re probably right.” Again, another pause as you kept your gaze to the ground, hands in your pockets. “Honestly, you’re probably the first person to tell me that; Doesn’t make me feel any better though.”

“I getchu.” Marshall nodded in understanding, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at your downturned face. “An’ I don’t blame ya, wouldn’t be surprised if your parents beat yo ass if you ever brought that shit up.”

The two of your shared a nearly humorless chuckle.

“Either way, don’t take my word for it.” He added with a shrug. “I just think he’s a real lucky kid if he gets to have a mom or aunt like you, fuck anybody who says otherwise.”

You shared eye contact, though this time it was out of mutual comprehension for each others’ situation, rather than uncertain intent of potential hostility.

While it was a pleasant interaction between two strangers, you both knew your conversation was coming to a close. After all, you had a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and he had a job to do to pay the bills and put food on the table.

“Speak of the devil,” You muttered as you heard the obvious noise of the family van’s engine creeping. “I ain’t gonna keep you for much longer, you probably-”

“-Yeah, yeah.” He was quick to finish, suddenly feeling awkward. “Shit, it was nice talking to ya. But- yeah - I got stuff to do, working on my next album-”

“Oh shoot, really?” It was a sudden knee-jerk reply, likely feeble in attempting to make the moment last a bit longer. “Damn, you know when you’re gonna release it?”

Marshall made a mix between a grimace and a pondering look as he made the guesswork in his head.

“Probably... maybe late this year or early next year. Gonna try somethin different, like, ‘fuck everyone’ kinda different. How ‘bout you?” He inquires.

Tilting your chin in acknowledgement, you replied: “Yeah, I got an audition coming up in a few days in New York. It’s supposed to be some sort of minor role in this… fighting movie? Not too sure yet.”

“Oh, word?!” Marshall looks a little shocked, eyes wide. “Shit, I got a movie star buying my album. That’s dope.”

You huffed an amused chortle. “Hey, don’t get your hopes up yet. I’ve got a couple dozen other people I need to compete against if I ever want to get another callback or a test screening.”

He replies with a confident glint in his eye. “You’ll make it, like I said: Fuck anybody who says otherwise.”

You grinned. “Fuck anybody who says otherwise.”

He holds out his hand, and you return it with a firm clasp and a shoulder bump.

“Hey, you know whether if your next album is mailable or not?” You asked, and he raises a brow quizzically.

“I mean, you could ask my manager if you’re that desperate? You got a pen’n’paper? I ain’t usin mine...”

Like a remote controlled button press, you reached into the inside pocket of your hoodie and whipped out your notebook, pen clipped to the cover. “Does this technically count as an autograph?” You thought aloud, to which he laughed.

“If it is, you’re the first one asking for it.” Taking the pen and notebook from your hands, he flipped to a blank page and quickly jotted down the contact info. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

As he handed your notes back, you quickly glanced down to skim over his writing, seeing the name ‘Paul Rosenberg’ on it. Noticing another name at the bottom corner of the page, your brows raised, intrigued.

“Slim Shady?” You read out.

Marshall tilted his head up proudly. “My new alias; Gonna be the side of me that holds nothin back next album. Jus’ you wait.”

You smirked, giving him a look of approval. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Quinn broke focus off of your walkman as you called for him, letting him know it was time to head back. Shuffling himself off of the car trunk, he toddled his way over to you, taking your awaiting hand, taking the walkman back and putting it in your pocket.

“Nice meeting you Marshall.” You gave him one last nod, which he returns with a faint smile, before you leaned down to Quinn’s ear. “What do you say to the nice man?”

Quinn turned to face Marshall, looking a bit sad, but far less shy than he was initially. “Thank you...”

Marshall chuckled, giving the toddler a pat on the head. “No problem lil’ man. You take care of yourself, aight?”

Nodding, Quinn waved as you slowly led him back to the van. “Bye!” He eagerly waved with his free hand, not breaking eye contact until he heard the door of the van open, and he climbs into his booster seat obediently.

Buckling him in, you slide the door shut and go to climb in on the other side, but not before turning around to call out to him one last time.

“Hey Marshall!”

“Yeah?”

“Remember me once you’re famous, okay?”

The surprise on his face was one to remember, just as much as the loud and joyful “HA!” he lets out; One that he really needed, before hollering back:

“Only if you remember me once you’ve made it big, baby!”

Your face breaks into a massive grin that you couldn’t remember ever doing in ages, as you give him one last salute.

‘I’ll be holding you to that… Slim Shady.’

——————

A/n: IT’S DONE. IT’S FINALLY DONE, HOLY SHOT.

*me literally saying that chapters would be quicker when I posted chapter 1*

*five months later*

*me, sweating like a sinner in church*

HHHHHHHHH-

I’m Canadian, the amount of apologizing is normal don’t worry-

But for real. I’m so sorry. Thank you all so much for your patience. I hope I was able to deliver and that it was worth the wait. I promise you guys, the reason it took so long was me constantly rewriting the conversations you and Marshall were having. I needed it to feel right, and I’m still feeling it’s not completely right, but it’s maybe right enough.

If you read this far, thank you very much and I hope things will be much better and quicker from here on out!!! <3

#By Your Side Series #eminem x you #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem imagines #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x you #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #fanfic series

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