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messylustt · 11 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲?

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.4K words

fic masterlist previous part pt three next part

miguel unwillingly pining after reader; fantasies about you in miguel’s head; a massage (pg); a hint of jealous miguel; spanish wise—I hope I wrote everything correctly, I asked for some opinions and check ups from a spanish speaker <3 big thanks to you — after an interesting morning with miguel, you learnt a few more spanish words, not to be late, and having him in close proximity might give you a heart attack. your mind certainly wandered when you were monitoring a mission, the spider peoples’ bickering making you feel annoyed, an emotion miguel unwillingly likes the look of on you. but how does he feel when he makes his request… asking you to follow him to a door you didn’t think you’d ever pass through?

“Checking the location now.” You said through your ear piece, tapping away at the keyboard. Your back was straightened as you stayed focused. You were working with a group of spider variants, who were assigned to get rid of a misplaced “villain” as they liked to put it. It just makes their job sound much more important, resulting in then coming back with a proud sway to their hips.

“Bro, why are you breathing so hard?” Hissed one of the spider variants to another.

“I’m settling into my hero act.” His tone is full of pronounced muscle—most likely standing with his arms by his side like some macho man. He takes a deep sigh. “It can be tough being such a incredible hero.”

The others just stare, clearly used to this from him, before a screech meets everyone’s ears.

“Where is it?!” One of them exclaims, frantically looking around.

“It would’ve blended into one of the buildings’ walls.” You say, scanning the area on your computer.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘blended in’?” A spider-man asks. “What is this monster—a chameleon?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Please tell you me reviewed the mission.”

There’s silence through the earpiece. You blink a few times, then close your eyes taking a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Look, I was going to but…Parker distracted me!”

“I distracted you?!” Parker exclaimed.

“Guys.” You try, but they either can’t hear you or are choosing not to.

“You were the one who was so eager to just defeat this villain!”

In your annoyed state, you can’t help but let your mind wander somewhere that had held your attention for majority of the day…

—this morning—

You rushed down the stairs, while simultaneously fixing your hair. Shit, you were gonna be late. All because of these extensive stairs.

When you reached the bottom, your hair had become a mess again, making you place your flat palms against your head as you tried to soothe the stray hairs.

You reach the door to your office, pausing to take a breath. Twisting the handle, you walked inside.

You instantly noticed Miguel, spider suit back on, as he swiped necessary and unnecessary screens back and forth by the large spider.

You tried to stay quiet as you walked to your desk, but your luck seems to plainly not exist as Miguel’s voice greets you—rather gruffly.

“Would it be cliché to say ‘you’re late’?”

You press your lips together as he jumps down. You seem to forget how tall he is until he’s towering over you, with a look that states ‘you should be worried’.

You gulp, before forcing a smile. Miguel’s expression stays dead as he waits for you to speak, most likely to explain yourself.

When you say nothing your mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish, Miguel speaks. “I said six.”

You nod. “I heard you.”

“Did you?” His clicks his jaw, a slight tilt to his head, as he observed your quickly fixed hair and slight heave of your chest. You clearly rushed. “You just woke up.”

“No.” You say indignantly. “I’ve been awake since six, I just didn’t like the idea of walking down those stairs, so…I began working in my room.”

“Uh huh.” He sarcastically nods. “Right.”

You press your lips together, thinking you should have stitched them shut. You weren’t helping yourself.

“You keep saying you want to prove that you belong here.” Miguel begins. He leans forward, his red eyes gleaming, his fangs becoming more visible as he snarls. “If you don’t start getting here at six, then I’ll be happy to drag you out at four.”

He leans back, stalking back towards the big spider, as he webs himself up to the top. You let out a sigh, turning to your desk and swivel chair.

;;

After an hour or so of working, and going over the mission scheduled in a few hours, you feel a breath by your neck. With wide eyes you spin around to see Miguel staring down at you.

When he meets your gaze, you’re placing your hand over your heart. “Can you not scare me like that?” You mutter out.

He leans forward…and forward… and forward, until his large hands are caging you in by resting them on the chair’s armrests. “Scare?” He almost whispers in question to himself.

You’re utterly frozen as his breath tickles your nose and cheeks, which you are sure to be an embarrassing red by now.

“O’hara?” You slowly question, it comes out quieter than you had intended.

His eyes stay focused on your own, as your pulse beats rapidly in your chest. Stop it— you want to say. But you’re not sure what ‘it’ is exactly.

“…did you need something?” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“What do you mean by scare?” He asks.

You lightly shift in your chair, unsure what to do in this situation. “Um…I just mean that you’re…you are kinda scary, O’hara.” You force a chuckle, trying to ease tension you are sure is the annoyance radiating off of him.

“Is it the fangs?” He asks, his eyes strangely showing genuine interest—or what you think to be genuine.

“Kind of?” You say more so as a question. “But also how you never, well…smile.”

“Why should I smile at people I don’t want to smile at?” He asks, his eyes finally dropping away from the entrapment of your own, but to a much worser place.

You self consciously lick your lips, feeling your nerves turning them dry. His gaze doesn’t shift from your mouth for an abnormally long time.

“O’hara.”

His brows then begin to furrow, his eyes finally leaving your lips, making you unintentionally sigh.

“Why do you refer to me by my last name?”

“What does ‘chaparrita’ mean?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes, leaning away from you and back to his full height. “You ready for your lesson?” He suddenly asks, grabbing a swivel chair and leaning back.

You stare at him for a moment. So that was what he was supposed to ask this whole time? “Okay, if you tell me—“

“No.” He says monotonously. “Ahora deja de hacer preguntas y siéntate y escucha.” (Now stop asking questions and sit and listen.)

You didn’t understand what he just said but you can understand his tone, so you readjust yourself on your chair and stay silent.

“Now…what do you say when you want help?” Miguel inquires, his tone now almost babying.

You narrow your eyes, but answer anyway. “¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?”

“Mm.” He hums, letting his gaze drop. “Bien.”

Miguel notices the slight curve of your lips at his praise. He shifts in his seat. “I hope you know what that means.”

Your small smile falls, before a fake one replaces it. “Yes, O’hara, I do know what that one means.”

“You should loose the attitude, chaparrita. Si es que quieres mi ayuda” (If you want my help, that is.) He says, running his tongue along one of his fangs.

“I understood “my help”.” You say. “And the one with the attitude here is you.”

“How so?”

You raise your brows. “Do I need to answer that? I thought you were observant?” Okay, now you were just pushing his buttons for fun. He seemed to get riled up so easily.

A scowl forms on his face. “Si no fueras tan pinche bonita, creo que me gustaría verte arañada” (If you weren’t so annoyingly pretty, I think I’d like to see you clawed up.) He mutters under his breath, his gaze slightly venomous.

“¿Cómo estás?” Miguel says. “Repeat it.”

“¿Cómo estás?” You repeat.

“That means “how are you?”. And what could you reply with?” He inquires.

“Bien.” You answer.

“Mejor.”

“‘Better’?” You say with a scoff. “I feel like I should get a bit more credit…Spanish is hard.”

“First of all—it’s not.” Miguel states. “Second…you know what ‘mejor’ means?”

“It was one of the words I learnt on my phone.” You shrug.

“Any other words I should I know about?” He sounds annoyed, and you can’t fathom why.

“You’re annoyed at that? To be honest I thought you’d be grateful.”

He doesn’t say anything. Mainly because he can’t say the first reason that popped into his head. He wanted you to learn Spanish—all of it—from him, and only him. He also can’t tell you because he doesn’t know why he feels that way. It was stupid, feeling resentful to a phone, utterly stupid, but Miguel can’t ignore the nagging feeling in his stomach.

—present—

“Shut up!” You exclaim, massaging your temples.

There’s finally silence on the other end.

“The invisible monster is moving your way, on the left wall. You’ll be able to spot a slight glimmering shimmer over him. If you look close enough.”

You finally see the spider variants pick up into action, spotting the monster and beginning to attack.

Miguel watched from afar, leant by the open door to the main tech room, arms crossed as he watched you lean back in annoyance. When you were mad your eyes would hood over, narrowing to show only half of your pupils.

You would aways grow hot, occasionally fanning yourself as you unbuttoned the first button of your shirt. And Miguel would always stare, his chest picking up to a quicker beat. But the scowl would be set, Miguel hating the way he reacted. He shouldn’t be reacting at all. He felt pathetic, as he tried to look away.

Every time he’d fail, his gaze only shifting further down your body. Your legs were yet again…spread. An obviously comfortable position for you, but certainly not Miguel.

He’s embarrassed to admit—not that he’s ever actually—that he’s fantasised about being close to your spread legs, his hands being able to spread them further. You were a reactive girl, very hyper aware for a human. He hoped you’d stay the same when he’d touch you.

Your chest heaving, your mouth opening, as goosebumps littered your skin. Skin he’d be able to see a lot more of.

And to all these fantasies he would hate himself, and you. Sure, he was projecting. But he’d rather project anger then any of his hidden thoughts.

“Is it my turn now?” He asks, making you spin in your chair to face the exit and Miguel.

You had finally taken out your headpiece, the mission clearly completed. The spider-men would get back soon. A look of confusion flashed across your features before realisation hits. ‘His turn’. His side of the deal.

You stand, straightening your slightly crumpled shirt—you had been fisting the material in your annoyed state. Miguel ignores the thoughts of instead a crumpled sheet. Your fists clenching around, preferably, his—no. Not preferably his. He clears his head, biting his inside cheek, the metallic taste of blood now tangible.

“Follow me.” He turns, expecting you to do so.

And you do, walking past all the different spider variants in an effort to stay at Miguel’s heels.

Through the journey up the stairs, Miguel—who doesn’t know why he’s walking with you—has been having thoughts. Very…interesting thoughts. Some seeming very similar to those of ‘finding you annoyed kinda hot’ type of thoughts. It also fell back to the thoughts swirling in his head when he was looking at your lips.

He hadn’t meant to do that, his body seeming to have had a mind of its own when he leant over, caging you in.

He’s annoyed to admit—to himself—that he had wanted to kiss you. See what it felt like. Maybe he’d hate it and his strange, annoying crush on you would go.

He’s soon stopped by his room, finally glancing at you, to see that you look confused. “I thought I was doing what you asked…or whatever.” You say, slowing your breathing.

“You are.” He opens his door, walking in.

You watch him, brows still furrowed. You stay rooted to the hallway floor. “In your room?” You look around like you’ve done something terrible, and you’re gonna get caught.

“Maybe you aren’t as committed as you claim to be.”

Your eyes narrow at his blatancy. You edge closer to his cracked open door, him now fully inside. You take a deep breath before pushing it further open, then quickly shutting it behind you.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t be in here.” You mutter, staying pressed to the door, as you took in the large looking bed, messed up from his sleep, along with a window, and plain walls. There wasn’t much character and you could tell that that was very intentional.

You then shift your gaze to Miguel who had found himself a seat, relaxing back into it as he clicked his jaw. He finally met your gaze, and in the dim-ish lighting his hair looked messier, his hand most likely having ran through it.

“So…” you drift off, not meaning to come across so awkward.

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking you to come to him, as his legs spread a fraction. You ignored the want to hitch your breath, gulping it down instead.

You stare at him, not moving.

He raised a brow. “You look worried.”

“I’m not worried…just…confused.” You again force a chuckle, a forming coping mechanism around Miguel.

“I think my direction was pretty obvious. I did say it in English.” He again made himself out to be all superior.

You sigh. “I heard you. I’m just confused as to why you asked that.”

“What—did you think I asked you in here so that you’d stay plastered to my door, chaparrita?” He asked sarcastically.

You wet your lips. “Why did you ask me in here?”

“I want a massage.” He says it just so…simply.

You blink, maybe one time too many. “What?”

“A massage, y/l/n.” He says, lowering his head slightly, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Why?” You haven’t moved from the door, so, Miguel swiftly shoots a web out to attach to your shirt, yanking you forward.

You gasp, nearly tripping over your feet, as you get pulled towards him. Miguel stabilises you with a hand to your stomach, making you come to a stop in front of him. “What the hell?” You stare at him, your chest heaving in shock.

You rip the web from your shirt, quickly brushing it off. “You gave Gwen one. I heard you were good. That’s all.” Miguel says.

Your brows furrowed. “Gwen?” Then you remember. “Oh, well that’s because she just got back from a really hard mission…she was sore and I…dunno, I was bored.”

“And you don’t think I am? Sore, I mean. You do realise I take care of the multi—“

“The multiverse, yes. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just a little shocked, is all.”

“You can say no.”

You sigh. “If I want to lose my job.” You mutter, walking around him. Miguel twists his head to follow you slightly, until you stood out of his gaze, directly behind him. You pause, before gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders. Jeez, he was broad.

You closed your eyes, taking a breath. To be honest you thought his requests would be hardcore, asking you to practically run around ramped. But instead here you were alone in his room giving him a massage.

You began to add pressure. Working your fingers into the instant knots you felt.

Miguel’s eyes involuntarily rolled closed, as he accidentally leaned more into your touch. You don’t seem to notice the shift as you continue massaging by his neck and along his shoulder, veering a slightly onto the top of his back.

“I forgot to ask: where did you want the massage? I just assumed the shoulders.”

“Mm?” Miguel hums in question, sounding far away, a small heavy breath leaving his lips after.

“O’hara?” You ask, stopping your hands’ movements.

A small growl of disapproval fell from Miguel’s lips involuntarily. “Just—“ he takes a breath. “What you were doing is fine.”

You place your hands back where they were, making Miguel relax back into your fingers. You were good—Miguel thought to himself. He can’t remember the last time he released so much tension.

You lean down to Miguel’s ear, your tickling breath making him gulp. “Is there a time requirement? Because I had plans tonight.”

Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Plans? What plans?” He didn’t mean to sound so disappointed and borderline desperate, but he’s thankful you barely heard his tone as your attitude didn’t shift.

You worked your fingers closer to his chest, doing your normal routine. Your grandmother was a masseuse, and of course she had to give you some tips. It was fun being able to practice on Gwen, but with Miguel you felt nervous every time you would press down hard on a knot.

But his responses seemed to be good, considering all the quiet groans and heavy breaths.

“I made plans with spider-man—“

“That’s very descriptive.” Miguel comments, his head slightly rolling to the side.

You scoff, your fingers moving to the base of his neck, where no spider suit material could intervene. The pads of your fingers rubbing his bare skin. Miguel noticed the difference a lot quicker than you did, sounds and words of approval he really didn’t want you to hear threatening to spill.

“Dios, ¿por qué tus manos tienen que sentirse tan bien?” (God, why do your hands have to feel so good?) He muttered under his breath, not really meaning for you to catch a word, but of course you pick up ‘bien’.

“Good?” You asked. “Well, then you should put in a good word for me.” You chuckle. “Maybe I should start a small business and massage all the spider-men and woman. I think I’d do well—“

“No.” Miguel says instantly, still sounding slightly breathless. “If you want to prove yourself you can’t get distracted.” Of course that’s the reason he dislikes the idea. Definitely not because he doesn’t want your hands making others feel like this…definitely not.

“Don’t worry, it was just a hypothetical.” You say, going back to his shoulders. “Now, I hope that’s okay. Because I do need to go.” You bring your hands away, and it takes everything in Miguel not to spin around in the chair, grab your hands and ask you to massage somewhere else.

The tense knots in his shoulders were gone, his neck felt light, and he wanted to feel your fingers run along his abs. This was bad. Why was the lighting so dim, why was your scent so strong?

He spun around in his chair, meeting your gaze. “You didn’t fully answer me before. Who are meeting?”

“It was gonna be spider-man, the one with the cartoonish attitude, and now it’s just Hobie. I dunno. something about an important—“

“Hobie?” Miguel interrupts. He displayed indifference, though inside he was burning.

A weird tension began to fill the room. “Yeah, so I’ll just…go.” You say quickly passing him and opening the door, before Miguel had the (bad) mind to stop you.

You rushed out into the hallway which instantly felt lighter, letting you breathe.

You head to the main communion area, paths leading everywhere along the walls to along the roof, making it easy for a spider person to navigate but not someone who can’t stick to walls.

So you stay on the simple path, skimming through talking suited spiders until someone called your name. You spin catching sight of Peter, Mayday in his grasp.

“Hey.” You smile.

“Hey. Sorry, Hobie wanted me to tell you that he can’t catch up for that song session thing, something about getting called in for business.” Peter said, his hands going everywhere as Mayday tried to escape over the edge.

“Also picture that in an over pronounced British accent.” He gave you a thumbs up to which you chuckled.

“No worries, thanks Peter.”

“Mayday!” He suddenly yelled, to which you pointed to the left, displaying her climbing onto a spider-man’s back.

Peter rushes off. And you sigh, thinking you hurried for no reason. Though you are grateful that you could use that as an excuse to get out of Miguel’s room.

As you head to your own, you begin to wonder what this last minute mission could be about and why Hobie had been called in now. Usually the only person who calls people in, especially this last minute would be Miguel.

I guess crime never sleeps—you think to yourself—or something like that.

ahhh here’s part three!—I hope this one wasn’t too boring or not what you expected x part four is gonna be more SeXuAl, I promise

I actually don’t know how many parts I should do, coz atm it’s feeling like a slow burn, but I don’t want to drag you guys along a long ass fic so I’m not sure.

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbb @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright @pix-stuff

#2 taglist

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #across the spider-verse #atsv x reader

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ilovetulips · 1 year

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fem!reader x older!tattooartist!eddiemunson

part 2 !

WARNINGS : smut 18+ pls ,, age gap (ages aren’t rlly mentioned but r is 21, e is 39) ,, p in v and all the stuff that comes w it ,, lots of petnames ,, use of yn!

A/N : first smut ive ever written. so scared rn. hope u all like it

———

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t absolutely petrified walking into the small hallway containing each tattooist’s room. your legs were shaking and your heart was pounding, so much so that your vision blurred as you stepped up to your assigned room.

“eddie munson”, you could eventually make out from the sign on the door.

entering the spacious room, you look around and take in the darkened walls littered with various drawings, the long bed on the left side covered in cellophane and the faint sound of music playing.

it took you a while to finally catch sight of the mess of dark curls on the right hand side, bopping his head to the music slightly, small grey hairs shining in the light and his hand scratching his pencil against the paper below him.

“h…hi.” you voice squeaked out in a stutter, sounding completely different to how you usually speak.

“can i help you?” he barks out rudely, not even turning to look at you.

“oh i’m sorry, i must’ve got the wrong room. sorry for disturbing you.” you begin to back out of the doorway behind you, before his brown eyes shoot up and meet yours.

“shit- sorry sweet thing, thought you were maria from next door. c’mere, sit down.” he gives you a cheesy smile while his eyes widen slightly. “you my 2 o’clock, yeah?”

your palms shine with a thin layer of sweat, originating from both excitement and nerves. “mhm, should be under the name y/n.”

“gottcha sweetheart, beautiful name. what’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this, hm?”he rolls over in his chair to where you’re sat on the bed, placing his large palms over your trembling knees.

he smirks down at them before focusing on you, his pupils blowing out and looking at your lips every now and then.

“it’s m’first tattoo… can you tell?” you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes, his face intimidating you - not that you were scared of him, he was just really attractive.

“yeah, you’re shakin’ like a leaf doll, but i’m here to help ya stay calm. whattcha thinking of getting?” he tucks a stray hair of your behind your ear before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

god his arms were consumed in ink, only adding to his attractive qualities.

———

you spoke to eddie about the design, placement and all necessary paperwork before you were relaxed on the bed, laying on your side and watching the boy prep his tattoo machine.

you had a few voice cracks and stuttered a bit while talking to him, mostly due to his stare shrinking you, but he had made you feel extremely calm while prepping you.

“mkay doll, gonna need you to lift that shirt up a tad for me n’ we’ll get started. no rush, you tell me when you’re ready and when you wanna stop. can you do that for me darlin’?” his chair rolls back over to you, his gun ready to go.

you nod your head and reach down to grab the hem of your shirt. you’re stopped, however, when eddie’s calloused hand covers yours.

“words, sweetness. need you to use ‘em.” he taps your skull with his other hand, and pinches the hem of your shirt with the other.

you can’t deny the blush tickling your face is because of him slowly driving you insane, but you’re not going to stop him. “i can do that.”

“for me?” he tilts his head, crows feet creasing around his eyes as he smiles.

“for you.” your lips stay in the oval shape as he moves your shirt himself, yet you can’t take your eyes of his own lips. you have no idea how old he is. late 30s maybe? is this wrong? you shouldn’t feel attracted to someone like 18 years older than you… right?

he catches sight of the band of your bra, all cute and lacy. now it’s his turn to blush slightly. he can’t help the wicked grin spreading across his features, such a pretty girl wearing such a pretty bra.

“now you tell me if it hurts too much, wouldn’t want to cause such a precious girl like you so much pain.” he’s good at this. really good at this. your face was now beet red, and your thighs were unconsciously clenching together. you hoped he wouldn’t notice - he did. and it went straight to his ego.

———

you’re about 15 minutes into the tattoo itself. eddie taking his time and meticulously placing every line with care. you can’t help the small noises you make when it becomes particularly painful, once again hoping he didn’t notice.

he stops with a sigh, the faint bzzing making the silence grow louder, and the tension more suffocating. “sweetheart, if you don’t stop making those pretty noises i’m not gonna make it through this tattoo.”

his darkened pupils look up at you through his curls gracing his forehead. you didn’t know how to react, so you just stared at him with parted lips and slightly widened eyes. you, luckily, were too oblivious to notice the amount of times he had to adjust himself in his pants, and the prominent boner he was sporting right now.

he knew it was “unprofessional”, but he had never had a client like you before. you walk in with a cute little shirt and skirt, lacy underwear and give him doe eyes while moaning to yourself and expect him to not react?

“m sorry… didn’t realise i was doing it.” you look away from him, trying to focus on the artwork on the walls, but only being able to focus on the growing wet patch in your underwear. he has a way with words, and he’s incredibly attractive.

“don’t have to apologise, i like ‘em. but they’re driving me insane over here princess.” he leans down to meet your eyes in front of your head. the tension was so intense you were practically choking on it. he can’t help but reach over and trace your lips with his thumb, pulling your bottom lip down while you let him do it.

“so pretty.” he mumbles, leaning back and patting your thigh before reaching to finish the tattoo. “want you to lie just on your back now, yeah? nearly there doll.” and so you do, until the pleasure pain was so much that you were arching off the bed, your breasts nearly spilling out the top of your shirt.

eddie was glad he was wearing jeans that day, so the wet patch of precum in his boxers wouldn’t soak into their material. you, however, were not glad to be wearing a skirt with such easy access to your underwear, and the larger wet patch soaking them.

“fuck- baby you can’t keep doing that. you’re makin’ it real hard to concentrate over here.” he rubs his hand over his face and reaches for the cup of water on the small table next to him.

“…sorry.” you smile sheepishly. “can we… uh take a break?”

“course princess, you want anythin’?” by anything he means a snack or some water - but you’d hoped the offer was for something else.

you shake your head no before looking back up at the ceiling. that didn’t last long until you could feel someone’s eyes on you - eddie’s.

he was sat, legs spread and arm leaning on it, his veins prominent in the hand pinching his lip. but his eyes were the most captivating, as they were black. full of lust and desire. you saw the affect you had on him, and to be honest you have never felt so attractive or turned on.

you turned your head to look at him, lolling it to the side before contorting your body fulling to the side. your skirt flicked up and caught your hip as you did, revealing your panties and causing eddie to groan.

he clamped his eyes shut before walking over to you, gripping your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and forcing you to look up at him. “i can’t tell if you’re doing this on purpose, or you’re just dumb.” his words shocked you.

“m not doing anything, eds.” you tilt your head to the side slightly, smirking as you did so. you weren’t doing it on purpose yourself, but maybe your body was just reacting naturally to him and doing it to make him look.

“eds? we’re on nickname basis now sweets?” he leaned down, his hot breath fanning across your lips as you squirm under his gaze. you nod dumbly as his hand travels to grip your jaw and rub his thumb across your lips again. you were practically panting, desperately trying to relieve yourself without him realising.

“you gone all shy now? after that whole performance?” he presses his lips to the base of your throat, peppering slow kisses up it’s centre before meeting your lips. “maybe i’ll just let you sort yourself out. who knows who else you’ve been a little slut for.”

a whine escapes your lips as he pulls away from your lips, missing his warmth. the name going straight to your cunt and making you needier.

“jus’ you. i promise. couldn’t help myself.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“don’t act all innocent with me angel, i know what you want, and you know what you were doing. want you to tell me what you want from me.” he crouches down in front of you, hands on your thighs and inching up slowly.

“need you to touch me. want you so bad.” you squeak out, shuffling about on the bed.

“oh yeah? want me to make you cum, sweet girl?” he peels back your skirt, your panties on full display as you lean on your elbows to look at him curse under his breath. he grips your knees and spreads your legs further apart, eyeing the wet patch between your legs.

“god you’re so wet, i can see it from here. got you all worked up hm?” he presses kisses on your inner thighs, watching you squirm until he roughly grabs your hips. his stubble scratching your thigh slightly as he kisses higher.

you hum in agreement, focused on the growing tension about to snap. that was until you felt his fingers pull at the sides of your underwear, pulling them down to show off your glistening folds.

he growls slightly, groaning at the sight before pulling your panties off and basically diving into your pussy. licking strips from your hole to your clit, humming and rolling his eyes back at the taste.

he was eating you out like a starved man, sucking at your clit and poking his tongue into your hole while you were a moaning mess above him. writhing and wriggling your hips, grinding into his face while you were overcome with intense pleasure. he brought his hand up, inserting a finger inside of you before lifting his head up and smiling.

“tastes like heaven, sweetheart. so so sweet f’me fuck.” he reaches that spongey part inside of you, your moans growing whinier as you reach your climax. he roughly covers your mouth with his hand, muffling the sounds you’re making before watching his finger plunge in and out of you.

he starts sucking at your clit again, mewling at the taste of you before adding a second finger to thrust into you. your eyes were rolling back into your head as he coached you to your climax. you failed to notice the poor boy practically grinding the floor, trying to find any way to relieve himself while relishing in your pleasure.

“you gonna cum baby? yeah? go on, cum all over my tongue darlin’”. he poked his tongue back into your hole before making his way back to your clit. he was sloppy, the sounds of him and his tongue filling the room and probably the hall next to it. you didn’t have time to think about it though before white fuzzies took over your vision, and the coil inside you snapped.

eddie slowed his pace down, but lapped at the hot white liquid spurting from your hole. he was basically kitten licking it by the time you’d snapped out of your intense climax. you’d slept with guys before, with women before, but none had ever made you feel like this.

so you grabbed him by his hair into a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues dancing. you hum sweetly at the taste of yourself being transferred from him to you, trailing your hands down his chest and towards his bulge. he looked big, but nothing could’ve prepared you what he was actually hiding.

he sat down, spreading his legs as you knelt down in front of him, holding his cock in your hand and staring at it. he hissed as the cold air hit his sensitive tip, sticky with precum. he chuckled darkly at your expression, grabbing his dick and slapping it against your cheek lightly a few times.

“you okay there, doll? you can take me.” he smirks, smug from your expression. you lean in, licking a stripe from his base to the tip and taking extra time to lick the prominent vein pulsing on the side. he groaned in pleasure, jutting his hips up into the air before you grasp him with both hands and lick his tip a few times.

you watch his face the whole time, scrunched up in pleasure and making him look so much more attractive. swirling your tongue around his tip and licking the precum away, you start to take him down your throat until your nose hits the base.

“fuuu-uck. where’d you learn that you little slut? used to suckin’ big dick are ya?” his groans are sent straight to your core, making you wetter than before.

you pull away with a ‘pop’, and look into his eyes. “you’re so big, eds. biggest i’ve ever seen.” you’re about to go down again until he grabs your face harshly, puckering your lips while he stands and looks down at you.

“don’t believe that. you gonna let me fuck your face now, sweetheart. quit teasin’.” he holds his cock, guiding his tip to your parted lips and thrusting his hips in slowly until you’re gagging. strings of curses tumble out of his mouth at the sensation as he pulls out and fucks your face harshly. his balls slapping on your chin while you moan and clench your pussy as he uses you as a fucktoy.

“such a good girl, letting me ruin your pretty mouth like this. fuck- perfect angel.” he’s holding your chin as tears flood down your cheeks from gagging so much. he’s thrusting so intense that your jaw is starting to ache.

“shit shit shit - gonna cum sweet girl. swallow it all f’me, be a good girl.” and so you did. hot ropes of his salty release coat your tongue and the back of your throat. you stick your tongue out at him, so he can see the dollops of him cum he left there before you swallow it all happily and sit up to kiss him again. watching you, eddie could feel himself getting hard again.

his tongue swipes over yours, both of your recent releases mixing together in your mouths. salty residues left at the corners of your mouths before you pull apart.

“bed. now.” he pants at you, walking you towards it until your back reaches it and you fall back. you spread your legs again, giving him a look at your pussy dripping with arousal again. he watched as a bead of the liquid travels down your thighs, before he laps it up and rubs his tip through your folds.

the sensation of his tip hitting your clit almost had you screaming, but you bit down on his shoulder instead as he sharply sucked air through his teeth.

“eddie- please.” you pant, the words coming out strained from desperation. hearing you beg for it did something to him, blood pumping to his tip more than before.

he plunged into you slowly, the burn of the stretch adding to your pleasure as eddie groaned. he went all the way in and stopped, kissing your collarbone before looking at you.

“feels so fuckin’ good. so tight for me.”

“move. please move- fuck.” he pulls his hips sharply, before slamming them back into pace and setting a rough pace to fuck into you at. he was so big, it felt like he was ruining your pussy and your organs. his tip prodding against your cervix, creating a bulge in your stomach that he pressed on.

“look at that. too big for your pussy to fit. fuck” the rough pace he set had led your moans into an incoherent string of words. you couldn’t process what was happening, just the intense pressure building in your stomach causing you to clench around him.

“y’fucked all dumb up there, angel? fuck- clenchin’ around me like that m’ not gonna last.” his hips stutter before falling back into their pace.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck” high pitched screams sound out of you, not caring who can hear anymore because it feels so good.

“my dumb girl, pussy’s made f’me isn’t she. god you’re perfect.” you can’t help but drool at his words, being fucked so dumb that you can’t remember words.

you clench harder around him, indicating you’re close as your moans mush together. his hips falter again, becoming overwhelmed by the wetness squeezing his cock. he reaches his hand down to your clit, and spits on your pussy before he spreads it around and rubs it in circles around the nub.

the sensation is so overwhelming, your orgasm crashes over you with no warning. you hadn’t even got a chance to warn eddie about needing to pee - which didn’t matter anyway as you squirted all over his dick. the lewd sounds still filling up the room as eddie doesn’t slow down.

“squirting all over me, fuckin’ slut. you’re gonna stay here till i cum, use you as my own little toy.” you were falling into being overstimulated, the climax still having it’s effects on you. but you notice him slowing his pace down.

“shit- gonna cum. can i cum in you, doll? feels so good i don’t wanna pull out. please?” he flops his head to your shoulder.

“please cum in me, eds. want you to cum so deep in me.” before you knew it, his warmth was spitting out of his sensitive dick, painting your inner walls white and mixing with your own release as he pulls out of you slowly.

the white liquid of both of your releases drips out of your hole, before eddie quickly puts your panties back on you to prevent it from dripping out, giving the puffy mound a few playful taps and causing you to hiss from overstimulation.

“want you to keep it all in there for me, like the good girl you are.” he kisses you sweetly before flipping your skirt back down and making sure you’re okay.

———

“that was the best sex i’ve ever had.” the man says next to you, arm around your shoulder as you trace the tattoos on his chest.

“me too. felt so good eds.” you smirk at the new nickname. you sit up and grab a pen from the table next to you. finding a space between the collage covering his body, you write your number down.

“i wanna see you again. call me?” you rest your chin on his chest.

“course i will sweetness.” he kisses your head before standing up and sitting back down in his rolling chair.

“y’wanna finish that tattoo now?”

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greenishghostey · 1 year

Text

Peppermint Haze

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, bath sex, p in v, unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, fluffy smut, established relationship, Eddie getting to chill out, dirty talk, creampie, soapy boobs, winter themed porn, lots of grinding, this is really just mushy fluffy porn so yeh

Word Count: 3,361

Author’s Notes: Please pretend that bath sex is not a logistical nightmare and that bubble baths aren’t terrible for vaginal health. The cosy, comfy vibes were too good to pass up so here we are :))) DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

Hawkins always got indescribably cold by the middle of November. Snow would pile up on tree branches and sidewalks - becoming less of a Christmas card backdrop and more of a slushy inconvenience.

That was definitely the case at Forest Hills Trailer Park. The dirt track roads were frozen solid and covered in a thick layer of powder and wintery mush. A lot of the park’s residents took turns digging out sections of the roads since everyone still had to get to work. Winter wouldn’t stop the likes of Wayne Munson from making it to his Friday night shift.

Eddie and Wayne had been shovelling out Patty, their hippy elderly, neighbour’s grey hatchback when you showed up at their trailer. Friday night was date night, and the shitty weather meant it would be an evening in Eddie’s trailer.

Both you and Eddie had planned an extremely relaxing night since the week had been hell for you both. Eddie had been working late at the craft store because the holiday rush was beginning - he‘d kept you updated on his projects that mainly consisted of measuring fabric and lifting all of the heavy boxes. You had been dealing with an influx of school kids at the library - rushing to get books for their last-minute assignments and begging you for help finding specific titles. So, a little indulgent date was much needed for the pair of you.

Gloria, one of your coworkers, had gifted you with a small Christmas “spa” hamper as a thank you for all your hard work. It consisted of peppermint bath oil, vanilla body wash that doubled as bubble bath, and a cocoa butter lotion. It was all super nice stuff which made you feel a little bad for only having Christmas cards to give to your colleagues. However, the festive kit led to you and Eddie agreeing on your main date night activity.

A really really long bath. He was the one to suggest the idea after you gushed over the gift - the suggestion was mostly innocent, surprisingly. Honestly, you both just wanted to be all cosy and gross in the privacy of his home.

That’s how you found yourself submerged in an amazing soapy bath that smelled like heaven. Only your face was poking out from the bubbles as you breathed deeply - floating and listening to the muffled sounds of Eddie rummaging around his room for tapes. He said he’d made a tape, especially for the evening, making you melt even further into the minty bliss. Your sinuses were going to be so clear after this.

Eddie barged into the steamy bathroom in his usual loud, sort of clumsy way. The tile floor was more slippery than he’d anticipated so he had nearly crashed into the room. You poked your head up and gave him a little wave from the bubbles - hair soaked and a touch of foamy stubble on your jaw.

Once your sleepy eyes focused on him properly, you saw that he was butt naked while fiddling with his stereo on the counter.

You leaned on your forearms on the edge of the bath. “I don’t tell you enough how nice your butt is.” You sighed, smiling up at him when he glanced at you.

“I’d say it’s a little better than “nice”, at least “premium goods” status.” Eddie huffed jokingly, now slapping his stereo in an attempt to get the tape deck to stay closed. He was a firm believer in if you smacked technology around a little and showed it who’s boss then it would work. “Babe, you’re objectifying me while I’m trying to set a romantic mood, all for you.” He shot you an exaggerated pinch glare over his shoulder.

In reality, he really liked when you ogled him and made him feel hot. “This is a small bathroom and your ass is right at my eye level. Get over it, dude.” You smirked, sinking back into the warm water.

“-I bet you say that to all the boys,” purred the voice from the stereo. Damn, Eddie knew how to set a weird, but really good mood. Meat Loaf wasn’t exactly his usual music choice, but he knew you loved a good ballad.

“Hey hey! See? A few loving taps and viola, she sings.” Eddie grinned, turning to you with a flourish of his arms, “kinda like you.” He sniggered as you splashed some water at him.

“Hurry up and get “the goods” in the water. I’ll give you a head massage.” You sighed, letting your body sink back into the water.

Eddie laughed again, softly, and dipped his foot in the water - testing the temperature so it wouldn’t burn his balls. He slowly sank down, the warm water being a stark contrast to the chilly trailer outside the bathroom.

“By all means, take your time there.” You chirped, forming a bubble beard while you watched him. Eddie was so pretty in the steamy, honey light. A small sheen of sweat painted his chest, and he couldn’t hold back a giggle when he saw your foamy facial hair.

“Once I’m balls deep, I’ll be all good. Don’t rush me.”

You snorted, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Give me like… ten minutes and you might be so lucky, sweetheart.” Eddie winked, finally sitting down fully in the bath with a deep, satisfied groan. The sound shooting down your spine and fuelling the budding ache between your thighs. “I’m a fucking genius for this idea. God.” Another groan faded into a purr.

“You’ve really outdone yourself. Using my work present for your benefit. What a gentleman.” You sniggered, hiding behind the suds when he lightly kicked your leg.

“Let me soak in peace, woman.” He grumbled, trying to hide his sleepy smile and failing.

You watched Eddie quietly and full of adoration. His eyes were closed and his face had relaxed significantly, any harsh lines or fatigue melted away with the steam from the bath. Eddie allowed himself to slide fully into the water, soaking his wild curls and pushing his bangs out of his face. He started working his calloused fingertips into his scalp. You watched, unblinking, as his large brown eyes rolled back into his skull and he sighed.

Eddie had said he needed ten minutes but you weren’t going to be able to wait that long.

You wiped away your soap beard. As much as Eddie adored you being a goof with him, you knew when it was time to get serious. Both of you knew where the night was heading, so you may as well speed things up a little. The cosy air and the melodic cries of Meat Loaf were perfect.

“Eds? C’mere. Said I’d give you a head massage, and I’m a lady of my word.” You stated, giggling as he quickly started to twist himself around, making the porcelain squeak.

Eddie situated himself between your legs and rested his wet hair on your chest. The bastard even started twiddling his thumbs while he waited for you to start, “I’m ready when you are.” He shot you a bright, toothy smile, swaying a little to really drive home his oh-so-innocent intentions. Eddie was always such a tease.

You gathered some of the vanilla and peppermint-scented foam and started lightly massaging Eddie’s scalp. Your blunt fingernails slightly scratched him as an added luxury, but mostly because you wanted to make him feel extra special. Eddie’s hair was such an integral part of him. Not only was it for his own self-expression, but he fucking loved when you played with it and pulled it just enough that a shot of pain coursed through him.

“That good?” You whispered, one of your hands wandering down his chest to caress his spider and demon head tattoos. The spider was your favourite. One time when he had picked up from a party after getting too drunk, you’d named it Edith, and kissed her goodnight. Eddie had damn near melted under you when you did that. You were just too sweet to him sometimes.

“I’d even go as far to say it’s nice.” Eddie breathed. The feeling of you rubbing his hair and scalp was the greatest high he could ever experience.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pretending to be annoyed. “Change your tune and I’ll keep this hand going lower?” You breathed into his ear, your wandering hand now grazing the wispy dark hair on his belly.

“See, I don’t think you’re gonna stop either way.” Eddie groaned. He started nuzzling his head against your tits, leaving a few small pecks between them. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later.” He sang.

“Aw, aren’t you just my best guy.”

“Would hope that I’m your only guy - oh f-fuck.”

You finally traced your hand down Eddie’s thick cock. He twitched under your touch, your pruned fingertips dancing along the prominent veins on the underside of his shaft. Eddie’s pleased whining and soft panting showed you that he wanted you to wrap a hand around him and drive him crazy. But your goal was lower.

Your warm hand caressed and massaged his balls as he let out a surprised moan. “God. Harder.”

The pressure of your hand increased as you rolled his heavy sack in your hand. “You’ve been saving these for me, haven’t you?” you purred, Eddie having shifted to starting mouthing at your hard nipples. “Neglecting your balls when you're jerking off because they’re all for me, yeah?”

“They need a woman’s touch, what can I say - shit, yeah, don’t stop.” Eddie groaned, almost shouting. Your hand that had been massaging his scalp was now slowly pumping at his cock. All teasing, soft touches - you knew it wasn’t enough for him. Eddie liked to be handled with an intimate roughness that only you could give him.

Eddie’s large hands were moving everywhere. Massaging your legs, squeezing your arms and running up your neck blindly. The distinct warmth and softness of your body were addictive to him. You were the first person to let him touch you everywhere - no grimacing, no catch. Just encouragement and admiration. Said admiration came in the form of a low moan when Eddie’s fingers caught on a piece of your hair and tugged.

“Babe, babe. We gotta stop or I’ll blow my load too fast.” Eddie huffed, pushing himself up and back to his original position across from you. He held out his arms wide, gesturing excitedly for you to come to him.

You really loved how excited he still got when it came to you. In any scenario, he was always happy that it was you.

Eddie grabbed your ass as you straddled him. Reaching up to bring you into a hungry, wet kiss. His mouth was restless. Lightly chapped lips pressed to yours, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, tongue massaging yours just enough to drive you crazy - he always drove you crazy.

The flushed, hard head of Eddie’s cock rubbed against your clit as your hips wiggled in his lap. “Fu-fuck yes.” Eddie groaned, pulling you down on him more. Your warm-up was one of his favourite parts. “You want your cock? You gotta wait, sweetheart. I’ve barely gotten my hands on you yet.”

You whimpered, hips still grinding with more impatience. “But you're all wet and warm.”

“And now I’ve got to get you like that,” Eddie chuckled with a smirk. “Do me a favour. Get some of the bubbles and play with your pretty tits for me?”

“You just wanna see soapy boobs.” You quipped, already gathering large handfuls of foam in your palms. The mint and vanilla scent had weakened, but it was still comforting.

“I do. Now, get to it.”

Eddie had moved one of his rough hands down to your aching cunt. Pinching your clit between two fingers, and rubbing it with his thumb.

God, yes. You could feel yourself becoming slick under Eddie’s touch. Your clit slipped under his calloused thumb as your wet hard nipples rolled between your fingers. Both of you released any and all noises that felt right. The needy moans and heavy pants harmonised with the lapping of the bath water. Eddie loved watching you play with your tits for him, applying just the right amount of grip to the soft mounds to make you whimper and hiss.

Such pretty, sensitive tits were a heaven he wasn’t sure he deserved, so he was going to make sure they were looked after.

“Someone’s having fun,” Eddie chirped, picking up the pace of his massage to your clit. God, he was evil. How were you going to hold a conversation under this level of pleasure?

“Woman’s touch, right?” You moaned and ground harder onto his hand, catching the hot tip of his cock at the entrance of your weepy cunt. Eddie whimpered and his smirk melted into a delirious smile.

The grinding, the moaning and the messy kissing continued for some time. Both of you basked in the intimate little world you had created in the steamy, trailer bathroom. There was nothing but time for relaxation and ecstasy - the night was still young and outside was just so cold, it was too horrible to think about.

Eddie had started to angle his hips and yours so that the head of his swollen cock prodded your hole. When your movements synced up perfectly, his tip slipped into you - providing a delicious tease.

Large hands were now groping and spreading your ass cheeks. The occasional short, sharp slap joined in. “Can I fuck you? Please. I know we got time, but I need it.” Eddie panted, his eyes laser-focused on your soapy tits that were in his eye line. “Promise you won’t be walking for the rest of the night. Fuck, rest of the weekend if you let me.”

Now that was a tempting offer. “If you get to be inside my pussy now, then you won’t be leaving any time soon.” You smirked, playing with his soaking hair and twirling it around your fingers.

Eddie didn’t respond to you. He lifted your hips up, thumbs massaging your love handles and slammed you back down onto his cock. Your gasp fizzled into mewling as Eddie started moving to grind into your sweet spot. He really wasted no time when it came to making you feel incredible.

“Aw, there she is.” He teased, one hand running up your back to tangle in your hair. “You were getting a little mouthy there. But I’m gonna help you turn that brain off, isn’t that right?”

“Mhmm, please.” The sensations coursing through your sweating body were exactly what you needed. Big hands tugging lightly on your wet hair, Eddie’s fat cock fucking into your g-spot and his growling breath tickling your chest. You needed to stop thinking for at least a little while. You needed Eddie.

Eddie needed you - maybe even a bit more than air at that moment. The embrace of your hot, spongey walls always had him reeling. You allowed him to see you in a vulnerable light, and he did the same. It was like a small weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t fully noticed was there.

“This pussy - my pussy. F-fucking god. Lean back for me, I wanna see you, pretty girl.” Eddie had started to work you on his cock, thrusting slowly and so deep into your cunt.

You gripped the rim of the bathtub and leaned back, an amazing tension forming in your thighs. “Want - sh-shit - more, Eds.”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll give you everything, baby.” A thumb started flicking your puffy clit again and Eddie grinned up at you. “Uh-huh? Taking such a big cock so well, like a good girl.” Christ, he was almost too good at speaking absolute filth.

“Can - can you cum in me? Please. Please, oh my fucking god.”

The entire image of you on top of him set his blood on fire. Tousled, wet hair. Soap-dripping tits. Heavy-lidded eyes trained on where he was fucking you down onto his cock. You sparked something almost animalistic in him, and now you wanted him to empty his balls inside your cunt.

Huff. Huff. Groan. Eddie couldn’t find the words to respond to you. So, he fucked you harder, causing desperate pleasure to pulse through both of you. He tugged your head back and began sucking along the column of your throat.

“Gonna fill up my gorgeous girl. God, your pussy’s gonna be so fucking messy.” Eddie was essentially delirious by that point. The only thoughts in his head were fucking you, cumming in you and suggesting that bath sex became a regular thing. The vanilla-scented stuff had you smelling like some fancy dessert, the poor guy was losing his mind.

You wanted to be messy. Eddie was pounding into you so well that your mind was calm and blank. The bathroom could be swimming with sudsy water and you wouldn’t even know.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” you squealed. “Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie. You need it too. Uh-huh?”

“That’s right, babe. Always so smart for me.” His voice sounded far away, but in the best way possible. Eddie had a single goal in his sight and the tightness in his balls felt so fucking amazing.

The way you begged always short-circuited Eddie’s brain. You were so lovely, so amazing. Hearing you say his name in your hoarse, needy tone made his cock twitch violently.

Your cunt clung to his thick cock, trying to milk him dry and chase your own orgasm. Your release washed over you in a pulse of heat and electricity - momentarily making your body go limp from the euphoria. It didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until Eddie did. His cock was splitting you open roughly as he used your sopping hole to cum inside.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groaned, his jaw hanging slack. “Can you say my name, babe? Tell me who’s gonna fill you up.”

“Eddie - you, Eds.” A fucked out whimper is all you could manage. But it worked just as well, if not better.

Eddie came deep inside your slick cunt with a deep scream and a slurred string of curse words. Panting and water lapping were suddenly the only sounds in the green-tiled room. It was a sticky but not unpleasant atmosphere. You loved it.

You had collapsed onto Eddie’s chest as he ran a weak hand through your hair. “I feel all tingly.” You sighed.

“Like good or bad? Swear my jizz isn’t radioactive or anything.” Eddie snorted, his voice sounding sleepy. Christ, he was almost too warm, but like hell was he moving from his current position.

“I meant good tingly, like romantic tingly. Way to ruin the post-sex mood.” You huffed, flicking one of his nipples until he let out a little shriek.

“Okay, okay, easy there.” Eddie splashed some water up into your face. He was lucky he was so cute. “That was an incredibly romantic start to the night, in my humble opinion.”

You hummed in agreement as you lifted yourself off of Eddie’s softened cock, settling back to straddling his thighs. Bath or not, you were getting your post-sex cuddles.

“Want to be full all night. Need it, Eddie.” Eddie whined, mimicking your high-pitched moans as best he could. As much as you hated when he teased you like that, the impression was actually pretty solid. “That’s what you said. That’s love right there.”

“And I was being entirely honest.” You replied. “Bear my horny little soul to you and look where it gets me? Bullied.” The next few seconds moved by quickly. One second, Eddie was fixing you with an eye roll, and the next he was pouring foamy water over your head. “Dick!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll blow dry your hair before round 2.” Eddie grinned, moving close to you and pressing a kiss to your now dripping face.

“I want some of that conditioner stuff you use in your hair too.” Demands would have to be made as a form of repayment after your boyfriend tried to waterboard you. “The one that smells like coconuts.”

“I’ll braid your hair too, how does that sound?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson smut #eddie Munson #smut #fluff #fic #eddie #stranger things #my writing

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bellatrixscurls · 3 months

Text

games you play | eddie munson

the prelude; the consequences of being late to class... a class that you share with eddie munson and that he, as a matter of fact, has failed.

a/n : i am using this little thing as an introduction to my fic, i will be posting the first chapter as soon as i can. <3

“Billy- Billy, I’m gonna be late” you try to reason with him, but he keeps peppering you with kisses, making you squirm under his body. “Come on, you- fuck- You know how O’Donnell gets.”

You hear Billy sigh, and you do too when he releases you. You miss his kisses already, but you simply cannot be late to miss O’Donnell’s class.

His blue eyes look into your own adoringly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Fine, but you owe me. Tonight?”

You can’t say no when he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. And truth is, you don’t want to.

“Bet” you giggle, causing a chuckle to escape your boyfriend’s mouth too as he curls a finger under your chin, pecking your lips once, twice and three times before finally letting you go.

You get out of his arms before he can catch you again, and rush up the stairs towards your class. When you finally reach the door, you open it and a more than familiar face greets you.

“Look who has decided to join us. Meredith, I didn’t expect it from you” she shakes her head at you, and your eyes widen.

8:03 am. Shit.

“I am so sorry─” “No need. Just- Don’t let it happen again” she gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the only empty seat left.

You nod and rush towards your seat, placing your books on the desk.

“As I was saying prior to being interrupted” she emphasises and you sink in your seat, “You will be working in pairs for this assignment. It is rather complex, otherwise I would have never let you.”

Tammy raises her hand, and the teacher gives her a pointed look, raising her eyebrows. “Can I work with Steve?” she asks excitedly, and you snort when the aforementioned boy gives you a horrified look.

“Not exactly, miss Thompson. I would rather you work with your desk mates. It should be a fifty-fifty type of project” she eyes her suspiciously, but decides to let it go as she starts explaining about said project.

You don’t even realise who is sitting beside you, until you notice Steve is giving you a shit eating grin, looking over your shoulder.

“So, you and Harrington think you are too good for us, remains of society, right?” you turn to your right, only to find Eddie Munson, the freak, toying with his pen.

You look at him, confused. He remains unimpressed as he glances at you for merely a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It is his turn to snort, rolling his eyes, but still avoiding eye contact as he looks forward. “Oh, please. Tammy, and now me, all in under ten seconds. I’m impressed.”

You remain silent for a second, before shaking out of your thoughts. “We don’t normally─”

“Oh, trust me, I know” he hums. “You should have come sooner, though, if you wanted to work with one of them... Oh! But wait, Hargrove had his tongue down your throat and now you are stuck with me” Eddie’s face spreads into a wide grin when he sees the shocked expression on your face.

You lean back against your chair and stay quiet for the rest of the class. And when it’s finally over, Eddie gathers his books, not leaving before he looks over at you. “Five pm, my place.”

─

“Are you saying the freak made fun of you and you didn’t say anything back?” Steve laughs at you, as you both gather your things to leave for the day.

You give him an unamused smile, and he holds his hands up in the air. “I’m just saying, Mer. That was unnecessarily rude. Tell Hargrove that and he will─”

“Shut it!” you shush him, cupping Steve’s mouth and he licks it. “Idiot!” you slap him on the back of his head and he laughs out loud, opening the door to his car so you can get in.

─

Five pm rolls around and you are already at the trailer park. You don’t really know which one is Eddie’s, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you hear a door being slammed open, and see a head of curls popping out. “Come in, then, princess” he steps aside, and you step inside the trailer.

It’s cute, actually. It is a bit small, indeed. But it looks nice and as clean as Eddie Munson can keep it, knowing his chaotic personality.

“Yeah, it’s not your palace, but it does the job” he snorts ironically when he sees you look around.

“Your place is nice” your eyes meet for a second, before he looks away. “Let’s go to my room” he instructs, hand at the small of your back, but barely touching you as he guides you inside his room, closing the door behind him.

His bed is a bit messy, papers are thrown around the room, but, somehow, it looks cosy. “So- the project. What do you want to start with?”

His eyes snap to yours in a moment. “Yeah so, I don’t know if you figured, but I failed this class last year.”

You hum, unzipping your backpack. You do know. “Of course. I can help you, if you want.”

Eddie huffs, throwing his hands in the air and you look at him surprised. “Okay, what the fuck is this game you’re trying to play?”

“Sorry?”

“You trying to help me, complimenting my house” he squints at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You look at him utterly confused. His words make you take a step back, Eddie has always intimidated you and his snarky comment made the things even worse for you.

Seeing the annoyed expression on his face, you decide to speak up. “I just- I am good at Chemistry so I just figured, you know...”

He thinks for a second, and you can see his face soften for a minute. You exhale.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst

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joelmillers-whore · 8 months

Text

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right?

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet.

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight— and expense off of your shoulders.

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it.

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory.

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money.

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer.

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop.

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell.

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here".

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college.

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was.

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust.

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up.

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided.

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning".

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?".

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude".

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double.

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift.

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one.

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you.

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want.

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material.

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk.

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight.

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers".

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on".

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed.

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester".

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips.

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you.

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture.

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester.

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lovlive · 11 days

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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ‘concert going’ - l.hc

SYNOPSIS - you and your boyfriend haechan finally get tickets to a concert and see the artist you love

PAIRING - lee haechan x reader

GENRE - fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS - i guess you could say that the reader is short (😭), reader is called ‘baby’, lmk if i missed something.

notes: i am so down bad for hyuck rn. like why is he so fine?! anyways, i used a random prompt generator to write this since my brain is dead from school and i got “get on my shoulders, you’ll see better.” hope you guys like it :3

both you and haechan have been obsessed with a new musical artist you’ve recently discovered. you’d both often find yourselves sharing headphones on the bus like in those romance anime movies listening to that one artist, or having their songs quietly play in the background while you complete your homework or some type of work you have due. so when haechan surprised you with tickets to one of their concerts, you nearly jumped out of your shoes with excitement (like literally, you were jumping up and down for the following 5 minutes and hugging (squeezing) the hell out of your poor boyfriend)

the day of the concert eventually comes and you wake up with a huge dumb smile on your face. you stayed up quite late last night trying to clear out as much unwanted things on your phone to make storage for the new photos and videos yoy were going to take, but nonetheless you felt as if you had slept atleast 12 hours with how energised you felt. you jumped up out of bed, giggling to yourself as you reached for your pre-planned concert outfit. you manage to change into it as you hear your boyfriend groan groggily, complaining that its too early for you to be getting up yet. you ignore his mumbling and drag him out of bed as you both head to the kitchen and have a breakfast. you let haechan get ready, and before you know it both of you are out of the house and driving to your destination.

you get to the venue, the smile from the morning still plastered on your face. it feels as if its stuck on your face, like you’d have to physically wipe it off with a tissue for it to be gone. you stand in line together, hands intertwined as you babble on about how excited you are to haechan. he teases you about your enthusiasm and how cute you are, squeezing your hand every now and again. eventually you get past all the security and other obstacles, reaching the hall. you get lost a couple of times trying to reach your seats because you cant read signs to save your life, leading to haechan snatching the phone out of your hand and leading you to your correct assigned area. the venue becomes more full by the second and your heart begins to thump in your chest as you wait for the artist to appear.

eventually the artist appears and you start screaming like a feral dog, haechan laughing at you hard. as the booming bass and electrifying guitar riffs filled the air, you found yourselves caught in the midst of the pulsating crowd at the concert. standing far from the stage, you struggled to catch a glimpse of the stage over the sea of heads. "man, I can barely see anything," you exclaimed, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of the performers.

haechan grinned mischievously. "i’ve got an idea. get on my shoulders, you'll see better!" you hesitated for a moment, unsure about the idea. but the infectious energy of the crowd and the excitement of the music convinced you to give it a try. with a laugh, you climbed onto haechan’s broad shoulders, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you rose above the crowd.

suddenly, everything changed. from your new vantage point, you could see the stage perfectly. the vibrant lights danced across the performers' faces, and you could feel the music reverberating through your bones.

as you swayed to the rhythm of the music, you both became lost in the moment. for a brief, exhilarating moment, it was just the two of you and the music. as the concert reached its climax, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face. you felt alive, invigorated by the experience of being lifted above the crowd and immersed in the magic of the music. when the final notes faded away and the crowd began to disperse, you climbed down from haechan’s shoulders, feeling a sense of gratitude for your boyfriend's spontaneous idea. "thanks for the lift," you said, grinning at haechan. "anytime, baby, your as light as a feather to me." he replied, his own smile matching yours as you giggled at his response.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

you finally get home, both of you still giggling and yapping to eachother about your favourite moments of the concert. haechan decides to go take a shower as you decide to get in your pajamas and get cozy. you hold a bag of concert merch, excited to display it in your room and start wearing it on a daily basis. but before you do any of that, you want to express your gratitude to your boyfriend, of course. without him you wouldnt of even went to the concert since he was the one who bought the tickets for you both. you notice haechan walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping onto the fresh t-shirt that he’s wearing. you cant help to think about how handsome he is. he stands over the kitchen counter, supposedly turning the kettle on to make a tea as you creep up behind him. you stand on your tippy toes as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from the back, head turning to the side kiss his cheek. you take notice the immediate smile that appears on his face as he notices your actions. “whats up with you?” he teases as he spins around, now facing you and wrapping his arms back around your waist. “just wanted to say thank you for today.” you say, noticing his face leaning utterly close to yours. he chuckles at your response, feeling his hand tighten around you. “of course. you know id do anything to make you happy.” he smiled, closing the gap between you both and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. you gently run one of your hands through his damp hair, enjoying the feeling of his warm lips against yours. the kiss breaks eventually, and you hear him mumble something out. “i love you.” the smile that has been on your face since this morning somehow grows even bigger as you respond. “i love you too.”

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theorphicangel · 2 months

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

Chapter two: low expectations.

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne

A/N: sorry for the late update, but imma catch you guys up 🫡

previous chapter | next chapter

Over the next few days you manage to get your pre-reading all done and dusted.

You can’t help but already feel exhausted by the amount of things that you have to juggle at university.

Just as soon as you were completed with one task, you groaned at the thought of your long list of remaining errands. Bills, assignments, grocery shopping and your shifts at the cafe were all piled on top of you constantly, not to mention your attempt to attend your lectures and classes, double checking that they were the right ones.

But the most stressful by far was trying to avoid your mother’s calls, which occurs at least twice a day. As of recently, you had thought that you were safe, coming up with excuses left, right and center.

At least that was before you had seen a missed call from your dad this morning.

That’s how you know that you’re really in the shits.

You’re gonna have to come up with something. And in quick timing.

But for now, you’re going to have to sideline your personal dilemmas.

With your new job at the cafe, you have no choice but to remain consistent with your routine, that is of course, if you want your new job to last.

After weeks of rejection or rather, the lack of replies, you had managed to secure a job at your roommate’s favorite cafe spot.

And by secure you mean that you had sort of lied about having experience in a cafe previously.

You didn’t entirely lie…just exaggerated the truth a little bit.

This was one of the only jobs that had replied to you out of a whole stockpile and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. Not under any circumstances.

You did have the experience of watching and observing what your classmate did at her family owned cafe whilst you were on the till for a few minutes.

But nonetheless, what’s so hard about making coffee? Anyone can do this shit. It’s okay if you’re learning on the job, doesn’t everyone? Currently, you succeed in trying to rotate between keeping track of orders and making drinks as well as trying not to get in MJ’s way too much.

But you were handling it to the best of your abilities. Even if that did mean messing up a few of your customers' orders every once in a while. MJ had said nothing about it so far which means that you're in the green light.

For now.

“You really should be getting some sleep, don’t let your first year knock you out before midterms.” She acknowledges, elbowing you slightly.

“I kno–” you barely finish your sentence, another yawn coming out of nowhere.

“See?” She hums, finishing off an order for the previous customer. “You need some beauty sleep.”

She’s referring to your bruised under eye bags that have started to appear. Ultimately, the results of you staying up till midnight yesterday to finish off an assignment. You had only managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in time for your 6am shift.

“I also need money, but we can’t have it all can we MJ?” you note, keeping your tone light before you move on to serve another customer.

You’ve only been on shift for a couple of hours but you think you’re coping well so far. MJ forewarned you about the morning lecture rush hour. You guessed that it was soon by glancing at the old clock hung up on the wall, indicating that it was just after 8:30 am. Students continued to spill in and out of the cafe, the bell above the front door continuously ringing in your ears.

A small line had begun to queue up and you swiftly moved through them with ease. As your next customer came up to the counter, your face lit up at the sight of a familiar face.

“Oh hey stranger–” you begin, recognising the same grueling face that you had seen last week bore into you. But you barely get a chance to finish your sentences before he cuts you off sharply.

“Coffee. Black.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you tap his order into the machine, immediately sensing his disgruntled aura. By the expression on his face, you can tell that he doesn’t seem up for teasing.

He seems…frustrated? Or maybe even upset?

“Name?”

“Miguel.”

You can’t tell whether he’s cranky because it’s 8am in the morning or rather that you failed to notice this the last time you saw him. Either way, it makes you a little dazed. Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person. You understood that because you were the complete same. Taking his name, you brush him off instead hoping that your coffee will cheer him up.

You inform him of the price and he swipes his card without a second glance. He leaves to take a seat in one of the corners of the cafe which just so happens to be the only part of the cafe that wasn’t so overwhelmed with customers.

It’s not long before you head over there yourself with his order.

“Here’s your black coffee.” you say, setting it down in front of him. Hastily, you’re about to run off to prepare your next order before his words stop you.

“I ordered a black coffee. Not a latte.”

You turn around abruptly, realizing your full mistake. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“Are you new here or just incapable of making a simple cup of black coffee?” Miguel interrupts, his tone laced with vexation.

“Who do you think you’re–”

Your outrage comes to a halt by the sound of your name being called by MJ. You glance over your shoulder and notice her point towards an ever growing queue of customers. Shit, you don’t have time to cuss him out.

Taking a deep breath, you make the decision to be the bigger person, after all it’s like what your manager Steve said…

‘ The customer is always right.’

“I’ll bring it over for you, m’sorry.” you apologize again, rubbing at your forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with the pressure. With sweat beading at your brows, you look over to see a small queue beginning in front of the till again.

MJ throws you a hurried glance, a look which you know means ‘hurry the fuck up and make these orders.’

You end up taking longer than five minutes to return back to him, run ragged with the new orders of coffees, teas, lattes, macchiatos and hot chocolates that continue to pile up.

“Here you go, sorry about that.” You place his new and correct drink in front of him.

“No worries.”

You’re almost taken aback by his response. First he snaps at you and now he’s telling you not to worry about it? God, he was so confusing.

“Enjoy.”

You think that you hear a mutter of ‘thanks’ leave his mouth but you don’t turn back to hear his words clearly. Yet… you can’t exactly keep away.

For some reason your brain keeps lingering towards a burning question which has rattled your mind all through the past week. Giving in to your temptations, you end up turning around and prompt Miguel with another question.

“How did you know ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was set in the 19th century?”

“Huh?” He glances up from his phone, his thumb paused in his mindless scrolling.

“Last time, when I saw you in the library. You knew it was set in the 19th century.”

“I didn’t.'' Miguel huffs, and your eyes can help but notice the size of his biceps. You estimate that they’re bigger than your fucking hands. “It was an estimated guess.”

“Really? You don’t seem too-”

“Listen.” Miguel quips, his sharp tone suddenly returning, causing your voice to trail off midway through your sentence. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he speaks. “I’m going to try and say this in the nicest way possible, but I’m really not in the mood for some crap about your literature degree, okay? I really couldn’t care less.”

Ouch.

Your expression drops and you’re immediately aware of the distance between the two of you.

He’s right. You barely know him. He’s just a guy who just so happened to be there at one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. “Right, sorry.”

You’re about to leave his table before he stops you…again.

“Y’know I ought to tell your manager that you messed up my order.” Miguel begins, continuing to scroll on his phone, not bothering to even look up at you. “This is a very reputable cafe and if you start slacking on the job then…”

“Then what?” You question. “Are you trying to threaten me with a bad review?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say threaten is the right word but…now that you say that perhaps I should write one.”

Your stomach drops at his words. “Oh, you fucking wouldn’t.”

He smirks, still peering down at his phone. “Maybe I would.”

“Bet.”

“Don’t start betting on things that you’ll end up regretting, nena.”

Your brow raises at his phrase which you don’t entirely understand but you really don’t have time to question it. Your patience is running out as well as your time to get back on track with the orders.

As you walk away from his table, his words seem to settle into your skin.

He wouldn’t? Would he? No… he hasn’t got the balls to. What kind of person has that amount of free time on their hands to write a bad review? At least he had gotten his coffee in the end, you were in your right mind not to spill it all over him on purpose.

“He’s a dick, he’s a dick, he’s a total dick.” You mutter under your breath, making your way back to your station. But you should’ve guessed that from your conversation with him in the library, recalling his mocking tone of your embarrassment.

You should’ve kept your expectations low if you ever thought that you were going to be friends with him.

“What did you say?” MJ queries, hearing your mumbles as you join her.

You nod towards Miguel, still sitting in the far corner scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“He’s an evil, brooding…” You fail to think of an appropriate ending.

“Dick?” MJ ends.

“Correct.” you say. You promise to yourself that from this moment onwards you are refraining from looking over at that corner.

You find that time passes quickly during your shift and once the rush hour of students finally dies down, you and MJ get the chance to finally take a break.

“Fucking hell, I never want to do that again.” She murmurs wiping down the surfaces near the coffee machines for any spilt substances.

“Ditto that.” you murmur, grabbing a cloth to wipe down some empty tables.

Learning that MJ was a performing arts student made you more than happy to get along well with her. She was in her second year, yet in a sea of sickening STEM students here you had real proof that you weren’t the only humanities student.

Take that Miguel.

Currently eating dinner alone in your apartment, you reminisce on your day in silence, your roommate out at her weekly computer coding club. You think that it was safe to say that it was a good day today, despite all the stresses at work.

Speaking of work, you recall the conversation from this morning.

You don’t want to give this Miguel guy too much credit but you’d be lying if you said that his threat earlier didn’t scare the shit out of you for the remainder of your day.

Even MJ had to ask if you were alright when it got to the end of your shift and you had brushed it off, blaming it on your exhaustion.

He was totally bluffing….right? I mean, he doesn’t even know you.

You bite down on your metallic fork, anxiety rapidly filling you within.

No, you can’t help it. You have to check.

Chewing on your fingernails, you type in the name of the cafe that you work out and head over to the reviews section on Google.

Scrolling down to find the latest reviews, your stomach practically drops at one comment, under the simple username of: @miguelohara20.

‘New barista lacked the ability to do her job. Couldn’t pay attention to even get my order right. Talks way too much unprovoked, to the point where you might as well save some money and make the damn coffee yourself.’

The fucking nerve of this guy causes so much anger within you that your fork practically falls from your other hand as you immediately go to text MJ. You send her a screenshot before typing with fury.

- ‘Did you see this? This was that guy that I was complaining about earlier: the rude, evil, brooding STEM one.’

Sent: 7:34pm

It’s not long before you receive a reply from MJ and it’s one that makes your stomach drop.

- ‘Yeah I did :/ Steve texted me about it actually.

Received: 7:36pm

MJ sends through another text, a few seconds later.

- ‘He wants a meeting with you on ‘customer etiquette’ !!

Received 7:36pm

Dropping your phone on the table, you let out a groan, holding your head in your hands. Now, this day went from ‘good’ to being the second worst day of your life, now with your job on the line.

Yeah…you think you fucking hate Miguel now.

reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

#angel writes #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #atsv headcanons #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

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dittanyinbloom · 1 year

Text

Hand Written

The final part to Note Taking and Study Habits

Ominis x fem!MC, fluff, kissing, it is just kissing but I wouldn’t say it’s safe to read at work

This is all so self indulgent but idc I write for my own entertainment first and foremost

.✉️🦉❄️

Over the weekend, you ran into a bit of trouble. Your first trip to Hogsmeade with Natty had famously resulted in a troll battle, but most people didn’t know that the journey hadn’t ended there. During a well-deserved butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, you were confronted by Victor Rookwood and Theophilus Harlow. One thing led to another, and now as of late, you and Natty found yourself acting as protectors of the Highlands. Whenever one of you heard of Ashwinders causing mayhem, the two of you would team up and hunt them down. This time, you may have bit off more than you could chew.

The wizards you fought against that weekend had been poachers. Not only that, but Theophilus Harlow himself had shown to the battle. By then, you had already taken a few curses and had long since exhausted your supply of Wiggenweld potion. Lucky for you, they had captured two hippogriffs, one of them being Poppy Sweeting’s friend Highwing. The killing curse was thrown, but thanks to the hippogriffs, you and Natty had made it out, narrowly.

The next morning, the two of you had joined Poppy for breakfast to ask what should be done about the two fully grown hippogriffs in your nab-sack.

“Well, I would say to release them back to their home, but with all the poachers still running about. . .” Poppy sighed heavily. Scotland wasn’t safe for any beast at the moment.

“There is somewhere I could take them,” you offered hesitantly, “I didn’t want to take Highwing there without your approval since the two of you are so close. But I can show you, both of you.” You smiled at Natty. “It’s quite extraordinary, actually. I’ve been waiting for the right time to share it with people.”

Natty returned your smile. “You have me intrigued.”

Poppy’s eyes lit up. “Is it close enough for us to go after classes today?”

“Why wait until after classes?” Then you were standing from your seat in the Great Hall to lead the girls out. Overhead, the owls had arrived to deliver the morning mail. A letter was dropped on the table for you, and you placed it directly in your robes for later. Most of the mail you received was from people asking for favors or updating you on ongoing quests they’d assigned you. Whatever it was could wait for now.

The girls followed you out of the Great Hall, giggling and unable to contain their excitement for whatever Hogwarts mystery you were about to show them.

Sharing the Room of Requirement with others re-sparked your excitement for the space. The three of you rushed in nearly late to Charms. You snatched food from the Great Hall during lunch just to run back to the Astronomy tower. Poppy took to the skies of the vivarium. Natty had fallen asleep on your couch cuddling a puffskin. You debated dozing off as well, exhausted from the weekend, but you stayed vigilant and watched over the time to know when you would have to drag the other girls to DADA.

“That. . was. . brilliant!” Poppy had an arm hooked around one of both yours and Natty’s elbows. Her balance was still off from the flight.

“Now that the two of you know it’s there, I think you should be able to find it yourselves. I’m not in the castle much these days, so the beasts would love your company.”

Natty brightened at the invitation. “I’m looking forward to exploring as my animagus form when I am better rested. Galloping around was not in the stars for today.”

“That puffskin took quite the liking to you,” you teased.

“I had an inkling you would be good with beasts, Natty,” Poppy commented, “You have a warm soul. The creatures see that.”

After classes, the three of you were yet again exploring the room. Free from needing to keep track of time, you planted yourself on the couch for a well-deserved rest. As you turned on your side, a curious crunching sounded from under you. You frowned as you sat up, digging through your robes for the parchment preventing you from sleep.

The letter from that morning! Might as well open it now and find out what sort of predicament you would be spending the rest of your weeknights solving.

What caught your eye first was how meticulously the words were placed. There were perfectly even indentations on both sides. The spacing was exact, and the lines, while ever so slightly up and to the left, were even in height. Someone had planned out what they were going to say to you. This was rare among the desperate scribbles of your usual quests. Even professors who wrote to you about assignments were flippant with their quill strokes, far too busy to even attempt legibility for a mere student.

Y/N

I fear apologies are in order. Sebastian insists you’ve been distant this weekend because of my actions. Offending you was not my intentions. The touches were merely a way to express that I share the same sentiment. I think of you often. In fact, I have not been able to think of much else since you started taking my name. If I’ve misinterpreted your feelings, please meet me today after classes in the Undercroft. You are owed a proper apology face to face.

If you happen to feel the same, you know where I’ll be.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

You stood from the couch so fast the room was spinning. By now, he must have assumed you weren’t going to show. How awful he must feel to think you didn’t care enough about his letter to even address it.

“Deek!” You called out, wildly looking around the room for him.

He had popped up out of nowhere, startling you. “Yes, Miss?”

Pressing the letter against your chest in shock while trying to collect yourself, you uttered, “Would you be so kind as to let the girls know I had to leave, but they are welcome to stay for as long as they’d like?”

“Of course, Miss. is everything all right?”

“Yes, for once, I’ve received a letter with good news, but I must meet with the sender right away.”

“Deek will make sure your friends are well taken care of in your absence.”

“Thank you!”

By the time you arrived at the entrance of the Undercroft, you were out of breath and only panicking worse. What if he had already given up? What if he was angry? What if your late arrival changed how he felt? You stomped down the stairs as quick as your thick boots would allow and ducked under the metal grate since it wasn’t rising fast enough.

Finding yourself inside the echoey room was like being doused in the icy waters of the sea. All the adrenaline that had been fueling your sprint over had dwindled, leaving only trepidation in its wake.

“Ominis?” You called out, hating how loud your voice seemed against the dead silence of the room. Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. You couldn’t even hear the faint sound of his breathing. You were alone.

“Ergh!” You let out through your teeth. How could you be so careless? Why couldn’t you have read the letter at any other point in the day? “Confringo!” You cast at a hanging candelabra. It swung violently from the momentum of your spell. The next victim was a tower of boxes. One by one exploding into bits, “Bombarda! Diffindo! Depulso!”

You turned on your heel, aiming at the desk in the corner that was rarely ever used for school-related revision. “Flipendo!” The contents crashed to the floor: a vase shattering, candles snapping in half, tomes scattering about. Still, the chaos didn’t feel like enough. You stormed over to the wreckage and kicked the now very sideways desk for good measure. Apparently, your steel-toe boots were a little worn down from all your adventures because you felt the impact jolt up even past your shin.

With absolutely no balance, you plummeted to the floor with a wince, grabbing at your foot in agony. “Mother of Merlin! So stupid!” You had fallen into the debris. Now that you were coming down from the rage, you frowned at the mess around you. Meekly, you uttered, “Reparo,” at the stack of boxes you’d destroyed.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you aimed at the desk next. In the blink of an eye, everything was in it’s rightful place. Even the tiny shard of glass in your palm had rejoined the vase.

You sat at the desk, exhausted from your meltdown. Your left hand landed on a folded piece of parchment. The only person who ever worked at this desk was Sebastian when he was reading something he wasn’t supposed to. Curious as to what kind of notes he was taking, you unfolded the paper to find the diligent penmanship from Ominis’s letter.

Y/N

We have to leave in a hurry. Anne is feeling too ill to walk, but Solomon is traveling in Egypt. He is meeting with old friends from the Ministry, Curse Breakers. Anne needs someone to look after her for a few days, and Sebastian didn’t want to go alone. He shouldn’t have to be alone, not at a time like this.

I hope this message finds you well.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

Oh, what a fool you had been. You looked up at the arching ceiling and let out a laugh of disbelief. While you were having a tissy fit about being late, Anne was suffering. Merlin, how idiotic you felt.

Ignorant, as Sebastian would so kindly say. And this time, he’d have been right.

If Solomon was away, you might have just the thing to lift the spirits in Feldcroft. All you needed was a quick trip to the Room of Requirement, and you could be on your way by curfew.

It was far too late to be knocking on someone’s door, but there you stood in the entryway in the dead of night. The air was bitter and unforgiving. The nights were always chilly this close to the sea, but this year's winter seemed to be never-ending. The moment you appeared at the floo station in the middle of town, you debated sending yourself right back to the warmth of your common room.

The front door swung open to reveal a familiar wand pointed at your face. Sebastian, looking rough from sleep, mustered up the deadliest glare he could and opened his mouth to spew out a threat. His scowl brightened to a brilliant smile, recognizing you were no foe.

“Well if it isn’t the subject of the hour herself!” He stepped aside, ushering you into the small home so he could shut out the harsh weather. “You had us thinking Ashwinders were looking for a fight.”

“Assuming they would knock,” Anne added as she sat up in her bed.

“Sorry to frighten you, and wake you. ., but with Solomon gone I thought these might be of use.” You pulled a bag of freshly picked shrivelfigs from your enchanted satchel. Ever since your first trip to Feldcroft, you had been growing them. The broken look on Sebastian’s face, when his uncle had ruined the one he had bought for Anne, was etched in your soul.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Sebastian mused as you handed him the fruit.

“I don’t think you’ve ever admitted you love me.”

“Hmm, very well. I’ll add it to my to-do list.”

“I look forward to it, Sallow.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Gaunt.”

“Hey now,” Anne chastised, “Did we not just discuss that at great length?

Sebastian rolled his eyes then turned to you, “I’m very sorry. Does the name make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you admitted, braving a glance at Ominis who was sitting at the head of Sebastian’s bed. You nearly gasped at his appearance.

When Sebastian had answered the door, you didn’t take a second glance at his apparel. But seeing Ominis out of school robes was always a treat. Even those few times you had, he would still be sporting his uniform vest and button-down. Now he was wearing a long sleeve thermal that seemed too loose in every area it was meant to be tight for warmth. It was likely one of Solomon’s since the boys had to leave on the spot without having time to pack.

Ominis looked terribly endearing swimming in the giant shirt with blankets looking at his hips. His hair was still somehow in place despite the fact that they had clearly already been lying down before you came in. The space in the bed next to him was disheveled from Sebastian jumping out of bed to answer the door.

“Told you she likes him!” Anne proclaimed, talking with Sebastian as if you and Ominis weren’t in the room. Though, in her defense, with the way you were looking Ominis up and down, it may as well have been Anne and Sebastian that weren’t in the room.

“Then explain the cold shoulder!”

“She was probably busy being her usual self. You do remember her having ancient magic abilities to discover, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t explain not showing up to the Undercroft.” Sebastian refused to back down from the argument.

“But she’s here now, isn’t she?” Anne reached a hand out to you. “Come, Y/N. You can sleep with me. It’s late, and we should all be resting.”

Sebastian put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think the married couple should-“

“Sebastian!” Ominis chastised. “Enough before I hex you. Get back to bed.”

You were timid to join Anne in the tiny bed. The old wood creaked in protest from your weight. She was quick to cover you in her warm blankets. Only then did you realize how badly you had been shivering from the cold. Anne’s head unabashedly laid on your shoulder as she hummed.

“This is lovely. Sebastian has refused to sleep in the same bed as me since we started school. We used to cuddle every night.”

Across the room, Sebastian seemed to groan in agony, “Anne, quit telling people that.”

Anne went on defiantly, “He used to be so sweet to me, but he drools in his sleep.”

You giggled. “Why am I not surprised? He drools a bit in his waking hours as well. Especially in Miss Garlick’s class.”

“Hmm, wonder why that is?”

From the boys’ side, a light slap rang out, followed by the sound of a wand clattering to the floor.

“Don’t hex them!” Ominis whispered.

“Just a silencing charm!” Sebastian said defensively.

The bed was empty when you woke up. Anne had not traveled far in their tiny abode. She was relaxing with tea at the dining table. Her plush armchair stood out between the other bare, wooden dining chairs. Ominis was awake and tending to the kettle. Sebastian was snoring. A dark spot had formed by his mouth on the pillow. You bit your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing.

Lovely blackmail material for later.

“Good morning,” Ominis said, holding out a steaming mug to you. His voice startled Anne who hadn’t even noticed you had woken up.

“Thank you.” From the smell alone, you could tell he put the perfect amount of sugar. You nearly melted into the cup yourself. What you would give to wake up every morning to Ominis. . . His hair had finally given in and fallen ever so slightly out of place due to not having its usual routine. He felt the wisps on his forehead and frowned, raising his hand to move them. You reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Leave it.”

He went from pink to red alarmingly fast. You sipped your tea and caught Anne’s watchful eye. She was smiling, despite her words, “I’m starting to pity Sebastian. He was right. This is disgusting to witness.”

Deciding it was your turn for a bit of fun, you teased, “Yes well, you and Sebastian might as well get used to it. Marriages do tend to last a while, the good ones, anyway.”

Adoring the opportunity to join in on the mischief, Anne added, “I guess so. Ominis is one of the good ones.”

“Precisely.”

Ominis had his own notes to go over on that very topic. He grabbed his coat from the hanger, shrugging it on as he asked, “Y/N, would you care to join me for a morning stroll? I thought we could pick something up from the vendor. He usually has bread ready by now, and this place is due for some more fresh food to go with those shrivelfigs. Maybe a few eggs for breakfast as well. .”

“I would love to.” You mimicked his movements to grab your coat, but he had picked it up first to hold it up for you. You couldn’t help but nervously glance at Anne who seemed very amused at the whole show behind her cup of tea.

Just one arm and then the other. It wasn’t so bad, that is, until after when he put his hands on both your shoulders and smoothed out the fabric. When you turned to face him, he held out an elbow for you to hold.

“Oh,” you murmured under your breath.

Timidly, you accepted his guide, but Ominis stayed frozen in the foyer for a second longer to ask, “I’m sorry, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Is this arrangement all right with you?” He nodded toward where your hand was shamelessly finding its place on his arm.

“Yes, of course. You lead. I have no idea where we are going,” you assured him.

“It’s rare people ask me to lead them places,” Ominis was attempting a jovial tone, perhaps to put your budding nerves at ease.

It didn’t help much due to your mouth spewing words without a thought, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Now it was Ominis muttering a soft, “Oh,” while mulling over the depth of your words.

Anne slurped her tea inappropriately loud, causing the two of you to jump. You offered her a sheepish smile, a silent apology for forgetting that you and Ominis were not alone.

“I want a niece or nephew named after me,” Anne proclaimed. “It’s the least you could do to make up for this.”

Throwing a look of annoyance Anne’s way, Ominis was quick to fire back, “I think Sebastian has that cover-“

“Consider it done!” You promised the girl.

Ominis quickly recovered from his shocked appearance to ask, “Do I not have a say in the naming of our child?”

“Take a moment to consider the benefits. If it’s named after her, she’ll be guilted into babysitting. Would you rather have Sebastian looking after our child while we’re away? We’d come back to a demon baby.“

“Bold of you to assume Anne is any more responsible than Sebastian. She caused quite a myriad of trouble in our early years, more so than Sebastian. Do not let her fool you. Sebastian has yet to beat her detention record. Try as he might.”

Then you were whisked away on a proper tour of Feldcroft. Sebastian had previously shown you around, but those landmarks were more about the places they had fought Goblins or where Anne had been cursed. Ominis was naming off what houses belonged to which neighbors and listing who grew what each season. He spoke as if this hamlet were his home, but you were well aware the Gaunts resided in Northern England.

Perhaps Feldcroft was more of a home to him than that place ever would be. That would make sense. Sebastian and Anne seemed more like family to him than the true family he spoke ill of. It was a fine place to call home. Quaint and quiet. There was more variety in the cities or even villages like Hogsmeade, but the hustle and bustle of those places got old. Visiting Feldcroft with Sebastian had always been a guilty pleasure. Pleasure because you craved simplicity after all your adventures, but guilty for feeling so at peace while Sebastian and Anne were struggling.

With the sun breaking through some of the clouds, today would be warmer than yesterday. By the afternoon, most of the snow would likely melt away. Days like that were usually colder than the weeks of snow that preceded them. The wetness seeped into clothes and chilled to the bone. With all the fields surrounding the hamlet, you hoped the ground would soak up the moisture quick. Either that or the four of you would be inside for the entire duration of your stay.

A while into the walk, Ominis finally took out his wand to lead the both of you toward a hay bale big enough to sit. A cart of chomping cabbages rolled by. You tried not to shiver, knowing very well how deadly those things could be. Assuming you were cold, Ominis trailed a hand down your arm to find your own placed in your lap. He encapsulated your hands in his and brought them to his lips, blowing hot air to heat them deliciously.

You had to mentally remind yourself to breathe, not wanting to get called out as you were in the library. His actions heated you up in more way than one. Your face felt overwhelmingly warm, as well as other regions of your body you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge just yet. But in truth, you greatly appreciated the notion to warm you. You hadn’t been able to find a scarf before running off to Feldcroft, probably due to your supply being mostly piled in Ominis’ dorm room.

“We should actually buy the bread and eggs for breakfast, but I must admit the point of this walk was to get you alone.” He still had your hands hostage, holding them near his chest. They stayed there a beat longer before he finally let you have your freedom, which used to be a sensation you craved before you grew used to Ominis’ affections.

“I’m sorry if coming here was not appropriate,” you spewed out. “I hadn’t read the letter in time, or else I would have met with you before.”

“After how foolishly I acted, I would have understood if you didn’t show at all. If my second letter made you worry about Anne, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean for you to follow us here, but I am glad you did. Is that selfish of me?”

“If wanting me around is selfish, then I wish you would be selfish more often.”

“I’m selfish all the time.”

You took that as an invitation to move closer on the makeshift bench. Now with your hip and shoulder flush against his own, you were practically forced to entangle your overlapping arms. “Ominis, I should tell you. . This weekend I had not meant to ignore you.”

“It was well deserved and to be expected, only natural after how uneasy I made you feel. Just because you drew hearts around my name doesn’t mean you would want my. . . advances.” Ominis visibly cringed at his own terminology.

“I do,” you blurted. Merlin, with all the marriage references, you may as well get out your wand and make an Unbreakable Vow at this point.

Ominis tilted his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I meant to say that it’s okay. You were right in assuming I wanted. . that.”

The heavy feeling in the boy’s chest seemed to lighten. He sighed in relief. “Oh, I felt horrible thinking I had made you uncomfortable in any sort of way.”

“Nervous, but not uncomfortable.”

He lifted his wand to let the red light take in the quiet hamlet. You stiffened, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of your surroundings. Loyalists and Ashwinders were still a heavy threat, especially in Feldcroft. For a moment you had let your guard down, and now you felt terrible for not keeping watch.

Oddly, not a soul was in sight. Even the livestock that often wandered about was either off in the snowy fields or no doubt huddled up in a barn somewhere. The morning was young, you could tell from how loud the birds were chirping. Most residents were still hunkered down in their homes except for a dedicated merchant setting up their cart near the well in the center of town. They weren’t quite near enough for Ominis to pick up their sound, though, his hearing could be even better than you already assumed.

You tucked yourself close to his side to whisper, “Did you hear something?”

He shook his head no, lowering his wand. “I only wanted to make sure we were alone.” The tip of his nose had gone pink from the cold. His cheeks were rosy, too, from being out in the morning breeze.

“It’s just us,” you reassured softly. “There’s a merchant setting up in the center of town, but they-“ A hand obstructed your view. Ominis was tentatively reaching out. The light brush of his index finger against your jaw is what cut off your train of thought. The others landed on your pulse, his thumb finding your chin. It glided up, moving across your lips that were still slightly parted from the words that got left behind.

“Don’t move,” he didn’t really need to tell you. The shock of it all was enough to turn you into a statue.

Then he was leaning in. His movements were slow but deliberate. His thumb left your lips only to be replaced by his mouth ghosting over yours. That’s where he stopped. You thought he was second-guessing himself, but then you could ever so slightly feel him break into a smile.

“I didn’t mean for you to stop breathing,” he teased. “Take a breath.”

You did, a pathetically weak one that is. But as soon as you took in air, Ominis closed the distance. His lips, though soft and gentle, weren’t hesitant in any way. He still held the side of your face, guiding you to him.

Your eyes had closed on instinct, so you had become lost in the sensation of him against you. His hand was the only thing grounding you until you reached for his jacket and tugged him closer. Only then did he take advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He let his other hand explore the side of your body, finding your hip and then running up and down the side of your thigh. You couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.

Then, all too quickly, his lips were pulling away. You followed, chasing his movements, needing more. The hand cradling your jaw held you in place, letting him put his forehead to yours and chuckle.

“You want more, but you stopped moving.”

Had you stopped? You didn’t mean to. “You distracted me.”

He hummed in approval and squeezed your thigh just above your knee. The sound of your breath hitching was all the confirmation he needed. “You really like that, don’t you?”

Your grip on his jacket was se desperate that your hands were starting to ache. “Ominis, please. .”

“Do you even know what you are asking for, my dear? I think I should take you on a proper date before doing any of that. And perhaps, not in the center of town. .”

You immediately tucked your face in the crook of his neck, far too embarrassed to face the world after that. “I’m sorry.” Your breath on his neck made him go stiff. A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and you were acting on it before you could talk yourself out of it. You brought your lips to his neck, just below his jaw. His hand instinctively tightened around your thigh as he let out a gentle gasp.

“Oh,” was all he could say, now deeply understanding the intensity you felt whenever he would touch you. At first, you peppered kisses along his skin, but when you came across his pulse your self-restraint floated away. Feeling how quick it gave you the confidence to open your mouth wider, sucking his pale skin until it went red and warm. Trickles of electricity ran down his spine. He wanted to chastise you for being so lude in public, but he couldn’t form words. His body felt limp, completely compliant to whatever you chose to do. Then his own tongue betrayed him, “Right there.”

Eager to please, you focused all your attention on that spot. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and tugged slightly so that he’d grant you better access. Ominis didn’t give any resistance to your demand.

It was thrilling to know you could make him experience all the things he made you feel. You pushed his limits further by grazing your teeth against him. His hand shot up your thigh to your hip, the other landing on your other side. He pulled on you as if he wanted you closer, but any closer you’d be in his lap. Although that idea was beyond tempting, the sound of someone’s front door creaking open made you pull away from his neck.

The loss of contact made him frown. He quickly cupped your cheeks to pull you in for another kiss, but you put a hand against his chest, holding him at bay with a giggle.

“Later,” you promised, “-when we’re alone again.”

Ominis tilted his head in confusion. His eyes went wide when he heard the soft chatter of a neighboring couple exiting their home behind him. Quickly, he let you go and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t hear them come out.”

You left a brisk kiss on the little cluster of moles decorating his cheekbone before standing and tugging him along. “Come on. We still need to buy breakfast.”

By the time you made it back to the Sallow home, Sebastian was moaning about how starved he was. His eyes lit up when the door opened. Anne had told him the two of you had gone to collect bread and eggs. His excitement morphed into terror at the sight of his best friend in such disarray. In all the years he’s known Ominis, Sebastian had never seen his hair so wild.

“Are you okay? Were you attacked?” He squared Ominis’s shoulders and frowned at the red marks littering his neck. Anne giggling behind him made Sebastian piece together what he was seeing. His face twisted up in a look of disgust. “Oh, are you serious? In the middle of town?! Do I need to start escorting you two everywhere?”

“That’s hardly necessary,” you insisted at the same time Ominis admitted, “I don’t think that would stop her.”

“Give me that,” Sebastian growled as he took the basket of food from you. “Unbelievable, both of you. Go sit while I cook.”

“Let’s listen to Sebastian,” Ominis whispered with a smirk forming. Curious as to what he was planning, you let him guide you to the dining table. You’d expected him to pull out a chair for you, but he sat down first and then pulled you closer, patting his thigh. “Come on, he said to sit.”

Your heart was jumping haphazardly in your chest. You sat with your back pressed to his chest. His arms wasted no time snaking around your middle and pulling you close.

“Deplorable,” Sebastian muttered.

“No, it’s sweet. Quit acting like you’re so modest, and make my eggs,” Anne demanded. “I want my yolk runny.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, giving in, but only because his twin had ridiculed him. “Fine. And how would you like your eggs, Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt?”

“Whatever is easiest,” you offered.

“Preferably not poisoned,” Ominis suggested.

Y/N,

Feldcroft has been absolute mayhem while you've been away. I know this work trip is necessary, but I've never been shy to admit how selfish I am when it comes to you. If you are able to sneak away a few days early, let's not tell a soul. You can hide away in the house, and I could have you to myself just until others are expecting your return.

Speaking of others, I must warn you that your primroses have been trampled by Sebastian's son. I assume I don't even have to name which one was the culprit, but he has promised to help you replant them on your return. Sebastian would have done it with him, but somehow our dear friend managed to learn absolutely nothing during seven years of Herbology despite having such a watchful eye on our professor during classes. Perhaps you can bestow a bit of gardening knowledge on all his children that way they have hobbies that don't involve destroying our home when they visit.

Until then, I will miss the smell of the flowers almost as much as I miss you.

Your Husband,

Ominis

p.s. Please do consider my request that you return early. If not for me, then for the well-being of our home.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #my writings

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marc-spectorr · 3 months

Text

come alive

pairing: poe dameron x reader

kiss prompt: #22 …in a rush of adrenaline

warnings: 2.0k wc. mentions of violence, shooting, weapons. curse words.

notes: thank you to the lovely anon for submitting this prompt! i decided to make this its own post bc i wrote quite a lot. also i haven't watched star wars/written for poe in a hot minute so pls be nice to me lol. hope you like it!

—

“What’s the escape plan?”

At the question, Poe shoots you an odd look that is quite concerning. “Escape plan?”

“Yeah, the escape pla—oh my god,” you say in a hushed whisper, blinking at him. “You don’t have one.”

“I don’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something quick and then—”

“—and then we get captured, locked up behind bars to rot or until they decide to—”

Your ramblings are cut short when Poe puts a hand over your mouth, gently shushing you. Three stormtroopers approach the stack of oversized crates, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of sun at this late hour.

You freeze and hold your breath, waiting for them to pass. Fortunately, they march right by without problem, oblivious to the fact that you two are hiding behind them.

As happy and relieved as you were when Poe first showed up to free you, you’re now back to thinking that you will die at the hands of the First Order. It’ll only be a matter of time until someone realizes their imprisoned Resistance spy has escaped. You’ll never get out of here, especially without a plan. You’re doomed.

You swallow thickly and try to distract yourself from the dread and panic clawing inside of you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating. Glancing around wildly, you need to focus on something else. Anything.

Eventually, you have no choice but to settle on having your attention on the pilot’s stupidly handsome face. You keep your eyes on him, inhaling and exhaling deeply to gather your composure. All the while, you wonder— has he always been this good-looking up close? You have never realized how pretty of a shade his dark eyes are or how much they sparkle in the low light. You’ve never seen such thick and curly hair like his, and you have the biggest urge to card your fingers through it.

“Sweetheart, hey—relax,” Poe murmurs when you grow quiet on him, his watchful gaze flickering every now and then to check your surroundings. “Breathe. We got this.”

Poe has long dropped his hand from your mouth, but it remains on your face, cupping your cheek as he assesses you for any injuries. You feel your pulse pick up a beat. You’re sure it’s mainly from the threat of danger you’ve found yourself in. Certainly not because of Poe, your good friend, and crush ever since the day you joined the Resistance.

No, it definitely cannot be that.

“Okay,” you sigh out, nodding. You take a quick glance at the perimeter yourself this time, mostly to hide away from his gaze. “Now what? We can’t stay and hide here forever.”

“You’re right,” Poe agrees. He steps closer to you, his chest brushing against your back as he scans the area with you. “My ship’s past the tree line. Best course of action is to sneak out without alerting anyone. But if things don’t go our way, we use these.”

Slipped into your hand is a blaster. You take a deep breath and tighten your fingers around the grip. You hope it doesn’t come down to a shootout between you, Poe, and the dozens of armed guards patrolling the place. Violence isn’t really your strong suit. That’s why you preferred missions that involved laying low and gathering intel. Too bad your cover got blown on this assignment.

(And yes, you are still sore about that).

“I’m a shit shot, just a heads up,” you warn Poe. You turn around and bump into him, forgetting that there’s barely any space between you. He doesn’t make an effort to step away, and surprisingly, you don’t either.

Poe’s lips curl into a smug grin. He holds up his own weapon in his hand. “And I’m very much not. See, we’re a perfect match. On a scale of 1 to 10, how’d you rate my spur-of-the-moment escape plan?”

You bite back a chuckle and shake your head. Leave it to Poe to distract you from your worries, even if it only lasts a minute. In all seriousness, you have faith in him. He can be overly cocky sometimes, but he’s smart and skillful. You’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of. There’s a reason why you and plenty of others admire the hell out of him.

“I’d give it a 7.5, mainly ’cause I trust in your confidence too much. Plus, it’s not like we have other options.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe beams. “Sorry if I worried you about not really thinking this through earlier. Once I found out you were being held out here, I kinda just... went for it, y’know? I didn’t have time to waste. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile at him, ignoring how your cheeks are warming up against the crisp nighttime air. You’re touched by Poe’s statement. Grateful that you’ve crossed paths with someone like him. Who else would be this reckless and determined to dive into an impromptu rescue—or insane enough to risk their life to save yours?

The thought has your heart feeling tender, but you can’t get caught up in it at this moment. You and Poe need to make it out alive first. Fuck, now the nerves are starting to creep back in.

“Thank you. If we come back to the base both in one piece, dinner’s on me.”

“You mean when we get back,” he corrects. He holds his hand out for yours. “Deal. It’s a date. Alright, you ready?”

Poe’s question almost doesn’t register in your head after he refers to your dinner offer as a date. He doesn’t seem to be joking around. He sounds serious, and you don’t question it. You find yourself more than okay with calling it that.

Clearing your throat, you give Poe a slight nod, ready as you’ll ever be. Both of you have to get out of here alive. Your date depends on it.

Staying undetected as you move through the shadows was easy in the beginning. Few are out on patrol this evening, and when you do encounter someone, Poe manages to evade them. Surely this isn’t his first go-around at something like this.

You do your best not to allow your anxiety of getting caught to cause you to lose focus. The warmth of Poe’s hand in yours helps soothe you, an assurance that if anything goes wrong, you’re not alone.

When you spot your way out, relief floods over you. You tell yourself you’ll be home soon. That you’ll be back in your bed in no time, tucked under the covers, safe and sound. No longer would you be fearing for your life in the way you are right now.

You’re nearly there— the clearing is just within sight. Less than a hundred yards away more and…

Sirens suddenly blare. So loud that they ring in your ears and leave you disoriented for several seconds. The quiet of the night quickly descends into chaos as guards pour out from every which way. The radioed orders your ears pick up are clear and bone-chilling: they are searching for you, and if found, they want you gone permanently.

“There you are, scum,” a trooper snarls from behind, weapon pointed at you. They’re about to pull down on the trigger, but Poe reacts much quicker. The blaster in his hand fires, and the man instantly drops to the ground.

You barely have time to process what happened when Poe grasps your hand tightly, holding onto it uncomfortably tight, but his touch is grounding. The two of you share a knowing look as the sound of distant voices and heavy footsteps grow closer.

“We gotta keep moving. Shoot anyone who’s chasing after us, got it?” He says, his voice a blur over the erratic pounding of your heart.

Poe doesn’t wait for your acknowledgment. He makes a mad dash towards the gate leading out of the compound. He wasn’t lying when he said he was not a shit shot, taking down a few men with such ease— they were no match for him.

Luck seems to be on your side tonight. The moment Poe tugs you past the gate, you run across the field and into the woodlands as fast as possible, the fastest you’ve ever moved. Your muscles are sore, and your head is dizzy. It feels like you can’t get enough air in your lungs.

Still, you run. You run and run, even if you’re starting to think that your legs will give out at any moment. You have to get as far away as you can from the place that has kept you captive. It’s your best bet if you want to survive.

Finally, Poe’s ship comes into view. He glances behind you, and you mirror his action, seeing that the guards have lost track of you in the dark. The relieved smile on your face remains for only a split-second, however. As soon as you turn your head back, you see the stormtrooper emerge from the thick bushes, aiming to shoot at an unsuspecting Poe.

It’s like everything is in slow motion. From you realizing that Poe is in imminent danger to the way you forcefully push him out of the line of fire and draw your blaster.

Adrenaline buzzes through your veins. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You steady your hand even as it fights to tremble. Without thinking twice, you fire your weapon. The first shot narrowly misses the enemy, but the following two blasts hit them fatally, and they slump to the ground, unmoving.

Luck truly is on your side tonight.

You gasp a breath in surprise when a pair of solid arms suddenly wrap around you, your nerve endings still on high alert after all that has transpired.

Poe’s gentle voice saying your name cuts through your foggy mind, and you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat continues to drum sharply against your ribcage as you stare at him for several moments, tracing the deep, worried lines etched on his face.

You don’t know what comes over you after. You’re unaware of what you’re doing until you’re right in the middle of it.

One second, you’re holding onto Poe—feeling some of the tension in your body seep out upon seeing that he’s okay, he’s unharmed— and the next, your lips are on his, soft and warm. Exactly the way you had imagined they would feel.

Poe doesn’t kiss you back right away; it is the only thing that snaps you out of this haze. Have you misread him all this time? He’s a major flirt, but you thought he was genuine with you. A knot of confusion and embarrassment forms in your stomach. How could you be so wrong? How could you have fucked things up?

You immediately pull away, taking a few stumbling steps back. Poe looks at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t say a word. You glance down at your feet, not wanting to see his expression as you fumble out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Poe. I don’t know… I was just—”

You are interrupted when Poe lets out a breathless chuckle. He closes the short distance you had put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face, fingers stroking your cheeks ever so gently.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that. It did feel very nice, though.”

Poe’s breath fanning warm over your skin causes yours to hitch. Before you can respond, he slowly leans in and recaptures your lips in a sweet kiss. Your heart stutters and skips for a whole new reason now. Something more electrifying replaces the fight or flight sensation surging within you, making you light-headed in the best possible way.

The kiss abruptly ends at the sound of dried leaves rustling and branches snapping from different directions. You notice faraway lights becoming brighter, no doubt more stormtroopers closing in on you and Poe.

“I’d like to keep kissing you, but we gotta go,” he laughs, nodding towards the ship. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we can go on our date.”

You grin in agreement and place your hand into Poe’s hand. Being with him makes you feel alive, like you can handle almost anything the universe throws at you. You could get used to this.

“Take me home, flyboy.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron #oscar isaac x reader

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

masterlist

writing for charles, carlos, max, & mick (subject to change)

minors dni. everything can be found here ↓

✳︎ fics, long

charles leclerc...

blurred lines (18+)

Things with Charles finally come to a head. In a cramped room. In the Red Bull garage. Of all places, really.

see it through

You go from social media manager to girlfriend in under a day. Keeping up appearances for Charles’ family isn’t easy, until it is – and until they’re not really appearances anymore.

sweet pea

You finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

stay, at least for breakfast

You love once and miss always.

you know it (18+)

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

wait and see

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

low down (18+)

A lot can happen under an hour. You and Charles, self-proclaimed pros at sneaking around, can attest to this.

it's never over (18+)

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

team effort ft. carlos sainz (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

like you should

If you don’t learn from history, it’ll stick around and find a way to repeat itself – even if the history is with your boyfriend’s rival, and its repetition happens behind his back.

max verstappen...

low life (18+)

You really don’t like Max Verstappen. What you’re doing in his hotel room is a separate issue.

↳ part 2, reciprocate (18+)

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together.

mick schumacher...

mr. nice guy (18+)

Mick Schumacher is the paddock’s golden boy. He likes upholding this reputation, but there’s something nagging at him lately that makes it... difficult.

carlos sainz...

a certain romance

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

has yet to pass

Four years after an angry breakup, the universe is bored enough to nominate Carlos Sainz for GQ Sports’ Man of the Year and assign you to be the writer of his profile.

team effort ft. charles leclerc (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

do you want it? (18+)

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

✳︎ drabbles

charles leclerc...

forever ago

↳ part 2, fin de siècle

motorsport ft. carlos sainz (18+)

everyone adores you

all my trying

the moment divine

words unspoken

things lovers do

something

overly sincere

the final frame

keep a place for me

honeymooning

proving my devotion

main dans la main

misspelled (dad charles)

presents

felt the rush (18+, sainz reader)

my own doing (18+)

olive you

divine sense

first words (dad charles)

take a chance on me

say it all

test run

guessing game

intertwined

name calling (wolff reader)

what you know

max verstappen...

self professed

carlos sainz...

silver lining

motorsport ft. charles leclerc (18+)

kissy spells

saving grace

need some patience (18+)

what i feel for you

brought me here

↳ part 2, kind of love

i knew you

guessing game

in my dream

mick schumacher...

you’ve been waiting (18+)

hold my hand

✳︎ instagram aus

charles leclerc...

is that you?

at sea

say cheese

good luck

ahead

#ItGirl

cutie

archived

↳ part 2, what once was

↳ part 3, mardy bum

spill the tea

deleted

maneater

kazoo'd

carlos sainz...

national holiday

tiktoked

↳ part 2, sneaky

↳ part 3, upgrades

max verstappen...

no clue

mick schumacher...

secret

✳︎ etc

auds’ recs tag

auds ask game

celebrating 1k, 2k, and 3k :)

#navi #mlist

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estrellami-1 · 6 months

Text

If I Should Stay

A few quick housekeeping things! First: a friendly reminder that my taglists are CLOSED! If you’re new (or if you’ve been her the whole time and just got here too late for the taglists), you can subscribe to the “#if I should stay” tag and follow along that way! I do my very best to post every 4 days. Secondly, if you’d like to see every part of this in one place, the ellipses below now links to the second part of the fic taglist! I’ve gone back and edited all previous parts so now everything should have a link imbedded in the ellipses. Unfortunately, if you reblogged an older version of a part, you won’t have the link in the ellipses. If you read all this, kudos! Now onto the story.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

They get to school and rush in just before the bell. Steve catches Eddie’s eye and blushes before he ducks his head, sliding into a seat and pulling a notebook out from his backpack.

He finds it more difficult than normal to focus, but he does his best, breathing a sigh of relief when the bell finally rings.

“Hey, Eds,” he murmurs as they walk out of class.

“Eds,” he parrots, something in his gaze that Steve can’t quite parse out.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly. “Do you not want me to call you that? ‘Cause I can-”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, it’s fine, just… new.” A light flush paints his cheeks. “I like it.”

“I’m glad,” Steve says, smiling softly.

“Steve,” someone calls from down the hallway, and Steve hides his wince when he turns to see Tommy heading his direction.

He sees the moment Tommy notices who’s with him; sees the moment his face changes. “The freak bothering you, man?” He asks, getting between Steve and Eddie.

“No,” Steve says, maybe too sharply for the way Tommy looks back at him, confused. He takes a breath, tries again. “We’re fine.” He looks at Eddie, wants to say so much, but sees him subtly shake his head.

He takes another breath. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He asks Eddie instead. “For, uh, the project?”

“Project?” Tommy looks between the two of them, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, for Mrs. Click’s class,” Eddie says smoothly. “She hasn’t assigned it for you yet?”

Tommy looks to Steve, trying to confirm, and Steve nods. “She just assigned it, a two-page paper about the person she pairs you up with. She’ll probably stagger it, though, so you probably won’t get it for another week still.”

Only half a lie; that had been an assignment, and she had assigned it roughly a week later, but he and Eddie hadn’t gotten it yet.

Behind Tommy’s back, Eddie winks at Steve and walks away.

Steve moves to walk to his locker, Tommy following close behind. “Man, it sucks that you got stuck working with that freak,” he says sympathetically, shaking his head.

“Nah, man, Eddie’s cool,” Steve says, forcing the cheer to stay in his voice.

Tommy snorts. “What, that fag?”

“Stop it, man,” Steve says, a note of warning in his voice.

“Don’t tell me you’re sticking up for him,” Tommy sneers.

“Y’know what?” Steve says, stopping short in the hallway. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m tired of being an asshole like you, like my dad. Maybe I want to meet people and have them like me for me, not for what I can do for them, or for the money or the big house.” He shakes his head. “Stay the same if you want, change if you want, but I’m done.”

Tommy grabs his arm, and Steve yanks it away, glaring at Tommy. “Don’t do that,” he says. “And leave Eddie alone.”

“Or what?” Tommy says, grabbing at Steve’s arm again.

Steve intercepts, grabbing his wrist, giving a warning squeeze. “You really don’t want to find out,” he mutters, dropping Tommy’s wrist and walking away before Tommy can get a word in edgewise.

Robin brushes past him on his way to his locker. “Proud of you, dingus,” she murmurs, and he does his best to hide the smile that brings to his face.

Carol’s waiting by his locker, popping her gum obnoxiously. “So,” she said. “Heard you were a bitch to Tommy.”

“Takes one to know one,” Steve replies. “If you’re here to convince me to stay an asshole, feel free to leave whenever you want.”

She shrugs. “Tommy can also be a bitch sometimes,” she agrees. “But the Hagan name holds almost as much power as the Harrington family.”

Steve offers her a crooked smile. “There’s more important things in the world than names.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, unconcerned. “You know he’s majorly pissed at you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I don’t really care.”

“I didn’t expect you to. Just thought you should know. He’s gonna try to get back at you.”

Steve snorts. “He’s welcome to try.”

“Alright.” Carol shrugs again, gently nudges his shoulder with her fist. “See you around?”

“Maybe,” he agrees, looking at her. “What do you see in him?”

She sighs, looks down the hallway. “I think once upon a time I saw who he could be.”

“And now?”

“I’m afraid of who I’ll be if I leave him.”

Steve offers her a commiserating smile. “You’ll be yourself,” he says. “But it can definitely be scary.”

She grins, sharp, pulling her mask back on. “Damn, Steve, when did you get smart?”

He smirks at her as he shoulders his backpack. “It’s not that. It’s that I finally care enough to say something.”

With that, he walks off to his next class, mentally thinking about his schedule and holding in a groan. Chemistry. He hated chemistry, the first time, and something tells him he’s going to hate it just as much this time around.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #eventual steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #tommy hagan #carol perkins #I kinda love carol in this ngl #like she 100% sees he’s a shitty dude #but right now the easiest thing to do is stay #hes not hurting neglecting or forcing her #time travel fic #fix it fic #time travel fix it #starambles

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Note

5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart.

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups.

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time.

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties.

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead.

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange.

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly.

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.”

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind.

“No,” is all you’re told.

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange.

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers.

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere.

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest.

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head.

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, smile wobbling.

Alive. Hesh was alive.

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue.

Alive.

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind.

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?”

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line.

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death.

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold.

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking.

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his.

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

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sssammich · 1 month

Text

collateral ch6

HELLO i'm posting this purely for the bit in that it's st. patrick's day and therefore it's kmcg's day. sorry to the one veto vote in my unserious poll.

here's the chapter in ao3

here's the rest on tumblr: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

thx for reading see u next time

---

It’s only Kara’s third week on the job at CatCo. It’s a definite upgrade from her job writing articles for the Midvale Messenger, but the transition from small town to big city living has needed a little learning curve. She’s barely gotten used to her schedule, let alone the bus route to and from her apartment when a really big assignment falls on her lap that changes her entire life.

She looks up, pushing her glasses back on her face when she finds Snapper’s scowling face in front of her.

“Come with me.”

She furrows her brows, yet before she has time to ask him anything, he’s already walking away. She scrambles to her feet and rushes after her boss paying little attention to the stares coming from those around the office. She eventually gets her answer when they end up in his office.

“Sir, what—”

“Can you explain to me why Lena Luthor requested you specifically to write about the launch of their new tech project?”

Kara’s head remains empty as she quickly rifles through her mind for some flash of recognition to that name. She doesn’t know a Lena Luthor nor does she even cover the tech beat.

“Snapper, sir, this might be a misunderstanding. I don’t know who that is.”

He glares at her just as he places one hand on his hip while the other rests on his desk. “Well, you better figure out who she is quickly. You have an interview with her on Thursday at 10am. Do not be late. And make that article worth my while, you understand?”

“Me?” she asks, her head slow to catch up to his words.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Now, get out of my office.”

Wordlessly, and still a little shell-shocked, Kara quickly exits out of his office and makes his way back to her desk.

“What was that about?” William, one of her coworkers, asks her as peers over his monitor.

She shakes her head. “I have no freakin’ clue.”

—

Armed with a memo pad and her trusty BIC ballpoint pen, she enters the L-Corp building in downtown National City. She’s on her second cup of coffee this morning, having stayed up late the last two nights doing her homework, researching about L-Corp, the upcoming project launch that the company has largely kept under wraps, and the head of Research and Design: Lena Luthor.

She has no idea what this woman’s game is about, but she won’t turn down the opportunity as it presents itself.

Wiping her sweaty hands on the back of her chinos, she reaches the 46th floor and talks with Lena’s assistant about ten minutes before her appointment.

“Miss Luthor will be with you shortly.”

“Thanks.”

She waits patiently in the small waiting area, her knee bouncing slightly. She crosses her legs at the knee and resituates herself to stop the bounce. She glances at the clock on the wall and finds that Lena Luthor is now five minutes late.

She considers walking up to the assistant who seems very intently typing away at her keyboard, but thinks better of it. She waits it out, gives it another five minutes. She reviews her questions from her pad and double checks that her recorder is fully charged. The ticking from the clock and the consistent typing sounds fill the otherwise empty waiting area.

She watches on as the assistant takes a call before looking over at her from across the way.

“Miss Luthor apologies for her tardiness, but if you could wait another five minutes, she’ll be on her way up.”

She nods and sits back slightly in her chair. The clock ticks on.

While waiting, Kara briefly wonders if this is some type of test, a ploy to check on her. Her imagination lands her to think that this might be some kind of hazing from her colleagues. That didn’t make sense, however, not when this assistant seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t participate in a prank if it affected her productivity.

After almost twenty minutes, Kara audibly sighs, tries to rein in her annoyance, before getting up from her seat and decides that perhaps it’s best to reschedule. Just as she’s about to talk with the assistant, the elevator dings open and a woman in a lab coat wearing large dark-rimmed glasses with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail rushes towards them.

“You must be Kara Danvers,” the woman says, her voice coming out composed despite the exhale she lets out, no doubt from rushing out.

“I—yes,” she offers, a little stupefied in her spot, glancing down at the offered hand before slowly taking it in her own.

“Lena Luthor. My deepest apologies for being so late; I was on my way up when a small emergency that couldn’t be ignored exploded…literally.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is more than fine, thank you. Now, I’m sure you’re also a busy woman, so if we need to reschedule, then I understand. But if you have some time to spare, I can clear part of my schedule so you can ask all of your questions.”

She blinks a few times to process Lena’s words, a reckoning force in front of her that Kara wouldn’t deny, even if she could. She beams and steps to the side. “Deal.”

—

True to her word, Lena Luthor answers all of her questions about the new project called Biomax, a nanotechnology meant to advance and expedite healing for various open wounds and injuries. She thoughtfully takes notes of Lena’s responses knowing that the recording will help jog her memories if necessary.

“Do you have any more questions?”

Kara glances down to the last question that she has underlined twice: why me?

She hesitates, an uneasy smile on her face. “Yeah, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you pick me to interview you? As far as I know, we’ve never met—I’d remember you, for the record—so…just…why?”

Lena holds her gaze, her head tipping to the side as she regards Kara. She almost looks away under the attention, but maintains her composure.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask me right away.”

She shrugs.

“This project is very important to L-Corp and could greatly affect public perceptions of the company.”

“I won’t write a puff piece if that’s what you’re asking,” she declares, sitting up. Yet Lena matches her and places a hand up, as if to stop her.

“On the contrary. I need you to do what you do best.”

“Excuse me?”

Lena tents her hands in front of her and smirks. “Your established work in the Midvale Messenger shows level-headedness and thoughtful critiques. You’ve shown fair assessment and reporting, as far as I’m aware.”

“Oh.”

“This is a good project, Miss Danvers. I believe it can do a lot of good for a lot of people. But prior to the rebranding, L-Corp has been host to many scandals, as I’m sure your research has shown you. All I ask is that the project is reported on on its own merits and critiqued fairly for what it is and not who owns the building that developed it.”

“You researched me?”

“As I’m sure you researched me.”

“Fair enough.” She nods in understanding. Then, “Don’t worry. I’ll do my job.”

Lena smiles wide and Kara can’t help but glance down at red lips and white teeth.

“That’s all I ask.”

Lena’s phone rings, signaling that she needs to get ready for an upcoming meeting. They both stand on either side of Lena’s desk before Lena walks around and stands practically toe to toe with her.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Luthor—”

“Lena, please.”

“Lena, then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Danvers.”

“Well, if I’m calling you Lena…”

“Kara it is. Feel free to call back if you need anything else for your article.”

It’s only as they take the few measured steps between the desk and the office door that Kara notes the warm and cozy tones of Lena’s perfume just as she catches the side to side swish of her long ponytail from the corner of her eye.

She turns around again and offers a hand, this time Lena grabbing hold of it with ease and shaking it a few times.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk.”

“I hope not either.”

It’s not until Jess opens the door in front of them that they let go of each other’s hands.

—

Her article goes to print, and she’s happy to see her name on the byline. So soon after starting her job, too.

When she walks into the office the morning her article goes live, she’s met with all eyes from everyone staring at her as soon as she steps out of the elevator. She offers them uneasy smiles as she treks to her desk only to find it teeming with flowers.

“What’s this?” she asks as she tries to move the different bouquets out of her seat and away from her monitor and keyboard. She glances at William next desk over and he only shrugs.

“Secret admirer?”

She plucks the lone card from one of the bouquets and flips it over, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank you for doing your job. L.L.

—

The paper bag crinkles in her grip as she adjusts the shoulder strap of her messenger bag. The elevator dings and she appears back on the 46th floor of the L-Corp building.

She walks towards the assistant who doesn’t seem surprised to see her.

“Hi, uh—” she quickly glances at the name on the desk, “—hi, Jess. I was here last time. I know I don’t have an appointment, but do you think Len–Miss Luthor has a small break coming up or anything like that?” She knocks her glasses back up her nose with her knuckle.

Jess studies her for a moment before glancing back down to the monitor. “She’s free for the next fifteen minutes.”

She nods quickly and smiles, appreciative of the granted access.

Kara knocks and waits until she hears a muffled response for her to enter. She peeks through the door before slowly making her way in.

“Hi, Lena. Sorry to drop in unannounced…”

“Kara, hello. This is a lovely surprise.”

She hums. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It turns out, it’s hard to get work done when your desk is overflowing with flowers.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.”

“No? Somehow I’m surprised,” she asks with a slight giggle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” Lena nods, her face sobering slightly, even with the smile still on her face.

Kara brings a hand up and fixes her glasses again. “Well, I’m not sure I can compete with dozens and dozens of flowers. But perhaps I can offer you with a couple deep fried sugary goodness in exchange. You do eat donuts, right?”

Lena stands from the side of her desk and walks to accept the bag from Kara’s hands. “Well, I am human. Thank you, Kara. Won’t you join me? Probably for the best I don’t eat it all.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

Lena sits on the white couch at the far end of her office. “I’m very sure.”

Kara takes a spot on the couch, the bag of donuts sitting between them. The fifteen minutes of break that Jess originally mentioned becomes half an hour then an hour until it’s just about time to leave for the day, the minutes and hours filled with conversation about nothing, everything.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Lena,” she starts as they both rise to their feet. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Nonsense.”

“I should probably get going, though. A few bites of donuts isn’t enough sustenance.”

“Well, if you’re not tired of me yet, I was just about to grab some dinner. You're welcome join me.”

"I couldn't impose."

"I insist."

Kara glances down at the way Lena’s hands fiddled with each other. Then she thinks briefly about the empty apartment that awaits her and the leftovers sitting in her fridge.

“Well, then, I’d love that.”

—

Days of friendship blossomed into weeks, Kara and Lena trading texts and video calls interspersed with dinners and coffees after long work days.

The excitement of friendship with Lena lit something deep inside of Kara that she didn’t know ever existed. Simply put, being around Lena was a source of comfort while she settled herself in National City.

“You’re not the only one who’s new around here,” Lena had said to her during one of their coffee outings, sympathizing with Kara’s adjustment after her recent arrival to the city. “It’s nice for me, too, to have someone—a friend—to spend time with. My therapist thinks so, anyway.”

Kara then reached forward and placed a hand on Lena’s. “Tell your therapist you’re not alone, Lena. You’ve got me.”

Lena smiled before reaching over and giving her a hug. Kara easily accepted, held Lena close to her, and made sure to never break her vow.

—

It’s been a handful of months since Lena and Kara became friends, best friends even, and being allowed unrestricted access to Lena’s office for Kara to stop by still rattles something inside of her. It’s…she can’t quite put a finger on it. A kind of intimacy she enjoys: to be chosen, to be privileged in this way.

She greets Jess with a grin and a separate bag for Jess’s favored almond croissants as Kara carries her and Lena’s lunch from Noonan’s.

“How’s it looking today, Jess?” she asks just as puts the bag for Jess on her desk. The assistant grabs for the bag, an uncharacteristic voraciousness as she opens it and takes a whiff of the pastry. “That bad, huh?”

“She’ll enjoy seeing you today, let’s just say.”

“Alright. Does she have a hard stop?”

“She has a conference call at 3. But otherwise, keep her from her computer until then.”

“Got it.”

Just then, Lena pulls the door open. “Stop plotting against me.”

Kara beams and walks forward with a one-armed hug as she holds the bag of their lunch away from their bodies. She warms at Lena’s touch, both of her arms wrapping around Kara’s back before it gently slides down the length of her back before her hands rest briefly on Kara’s waist.

“I’ll plot against you any way I like. I’m my own woman.”

“Yes, you are. It’s good to see you, darling. But we don’t have an appointment, do we?”

“No, no. I just figured I’d drop off some lunch for you. Heard you’ve had a brutal morning.”

Lena then glances at Jess who has remained steadfast in staring at her screen. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Now we can stand here or we can actually eat some lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Lena steps back and allows her to walk past her, making a beeline for the coffee table in front of her white couch. She quickly takes out their food from the bag and situates it neatly in front of them, a nice little spread of salads and breads and pasta dishes.

“Did you buy all of Noonan’s?” Lena asks when she sits beside Kara on the couch. “I can’t possibly eat all of this food, Kara.”

“Uh, because they’re not for you,” she says, offering a playful scoff. “That’s your kale salad and all the good stuff is mine.”

She grins when she catches Lena rolling her eyes at her who otherwise grabs a plastic fork and takes a healthy bite out of her salad. Kara hates the stuff, thinks it’s an abomination, but she’s happy to see her friend eating and relaxing.

Kara etches this moment to memory. Because she likes how settled Lena is beside her as they dig into their lunch. Likes how visibly comfortable Lena looks as she asks Kara about her day so far. Likes how she nudges some other dishes Lena’s way until Lena relents, still gracious as she does so, picking at some of the food. It’s one of Kara’s favorite views, the way Lena leaves herself unguarded, her walls down, with her.

Abruptly and without notice, something inside of Kara shifts—irreparably, irrevocably.

She doesn’t know what she’s even said for Lena to snort in laughter, putting her food down on the coffee table to cover her mouth as giggles leak through her fingers.

Something inside of Kara slots into place, the world suddenly saturated and sharpened.

When Lena gets a handle on her laughter, her mouth still etched with the echoes of her mirth, she opens her eyes to fondly look back at Kara, grasping at her arm and squeezing.

Kara doesn’t hear anything but the pulse of her blood rushing to her ears, and the heat of Lena’s hand on her skin suddenly scorching her.

And Kara, hopeless and unprepared, discovers on a Tuesday afternoon that she’s maybe a little bit in love with her best friend.

#samfic: collateral #supercorp #supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfiction #samfic #ok ok im gonna go do other things for now

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abybweisse · 5 months

Text

Ch206 (p4), My family would never

After Theo asks what the teachers think of their honed aptitudes, Doll finds it funny...

...and says they are imitations that can never surpass the real thing/originals. She's aiming for Mabel, and we see reactions from Finny, Oliver, Susan -- I officially hate her now -- and Snake. Snake looks like he might rush to Mabel's aide.

As he moves to help Mabel, Snake is thinking about his circus family, and how he can't believe they would really kidnap kids and harm them (or put them in harm's way).

I've rearranged these next two panels, just so you can see them in the original layout. Doll strikes out with the broken glass, but instead of hitting Mabel, the blow lands on the left side of Snake's neck.

This gash must be very deep, because it's spurting blood out, not just oozing. Also, blood quickly starts to spill out of his mouth, suggesting not only has the carotid probably been cut, but so has his windpipe and/or esophagus. He still seems to be in disbelief that she would lash out against a child like that, but he can barely get the words out.

When Doll realizes what she's done, she freaks out in a panic, because he's the one person there she would never wish to harm.

But would she do anything necessary to try to save him? Is there anyone there who has the skills to help him at all? If the top students and Finny could band together and combine their knowledge and skills to help him, would Doll agree to a truce to let them? Would she force Susan and other staff to stand down and stay out of the way... or even help? Too many questions here... and I think it'll be too late for Snake by the time anyone can figure out what to do.

We haven't seen a reaper in this assignment, that we know of. But this doesn't mean Snake will live. There could have been one there the whole time, but they stayed in hiding, unlike Ronald at the sanatorium, etc. Sometimes the reaper organization gets alerts of unexpected deaths, too... when they happen, right? It would be nice to get a shinigami pass, but I can't expect it to happen for him.

Since I'm now expecting Snake to die from this wound, we might get some backstory for him, either as memories before he dies, or as cinematic records when a reaper shows up. Since we know how he joined the Phantomhive household, we might just get earlier memories, like more details from before/when he joined the circus.

Take note that not once this chapter has Snake spoken for his snakes; it's all been for himself. I should think that his flashbacks or memories would be speaking for himself, or perhaps for himself and the snakes.

Poor Snake. 😞 😢

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thisisanewlowes · 3 months

Text

'Money Can't Buy You Love' Prologue

Pairing: Hollywood AU!Jake x Reader

Summary: After being nominated for Best Actor for his movie "Whispers Through the Shadows," it is finally time for Jake Seresin to walk the red carpet with his fiance. But with tensions between him and his rival, Bradley Bradshaw, at an all-time high, how will Jake be able to handle the pressure?

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Jake and Bradley are idiots, mentions of alcoholism, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 975

A/N: AHH okay, here is the prologue for my new AU fic, 'Money Can't Buy You Love.' This is a part of the A-List Universe, where actor!Jake and actor!Bradley try to navigate the complexities of relationships under the close watch of the public's eye. I hope you all enjoy!! Make sure to take this little quiz to find out which A-Lister is your soulmate!!

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

“Babe! We can��t be late for the show! Come on!” You yell through the halls of the home you share with your fiance, Jake Seresin. “Jake?” You question as you walk into the mansion’s large master bedroom. You are met with the sight of the tall blond actor still buttoning up his shirt. “Jake,” you sigh, exasperated.

“What can I say, baby? You can’t rush beauty,” he smirked. With a groan, you walk over to where he stands in front of one of many full-length mirrors that stand in your bedroom. Grabbing the tie his stylist had picked out for him, you wrap it around his neck with a bit too much aggression. “Hey, hey, come on now. This tie is expensive, we can’t ruin it. At least not doing something as boring as this,” he said slyly.

You smacked him on the chest and smoothed your dress down from where he was bunching it up. “Jake! Please, tonight is a big deal for you and for my dad. We need to be there on time and not look like we just threw something on.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t mind just skipping it and staying here with you instead,” he jeered.

“Are you drunk?!” You exclaimed with a laugh.

“Leave that up to Bradley,” he grumbled.

“Hey!” You snapped, turning around and pointing a finger up at him, “Not tonight. Now get in the car.”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

By the time you arrived on the red carpet, journalists and photographers were already swarming behind the velvet rope, desperate for a glimpse of this year’s nominees. As your chauffeur opened the door to your sleek black limo.

“You ready?” You asked Jake, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“I’m always ready,” he said with his signature grin. “Let’s go show everyone who Hollywood’s real power couple is.” After stepping out of the limo and giving a wave to the sea of people in front of him, Jake turns back and puts his hand out to help you step out of the vehicle. “Hey,” he said, leaning down so only you could hear him, “You know that I love you, right?” You smiled up at him with what must have been the most adoring eyes the camera had ever seen.

You walked the carpet with grace, stopping to pose for photos with your fiance and his castmates. You also made sure to take photos with your father, who was up for best director for his work on “Whispers Through the Smoke.” Once you got about halfway down, you saw that your fiance’s rival, Bradley Bradshaw, arrived in a white Bronco with his wife.

“Oh my god,” you said, pulling Jake to you. “Is she pregnant?”

“I- yeah- sure- What is he doing here?” Jake grumbled.

“Who? Bradley? I don’t know, why would he be here? Oh, right, maybe it’s for the award he was nominated for,” you teased, eliciting an eye-roll from your fiance.

As you reached the end of the carpet and the buzz died down, Jake took your hand to lead you to your assigned table. After a few minutes of peaceful conversation, you looked around at all the stars who surrounded you in the packed theater. You were amazed and a bit shocked by the big names that you were seeing. Oh my god, is that–?

“What are you doing here?” You heard a man yell. Looking over, you saw Bradley and his wife standing in front of you.

“I’m trying to have a nice evening with my fiance,” Jake retorted, grabbing your limp hand and holding it up for the Bradshaws to see. “See,” he said, waving your hand around for them to see, “fi-an-ce.”

You didn’t know whether to be annoyed or endeared by his antics, so you gave the couple in front of you a polite smile and patted the seat next to you. “Here, Mrs. Bradshaw,” you said, “Come sit with me.”

“Baby,” Jake whined.

“I didn’t make the seating chart,” you loudly whispered back. “It’s fine, it’s probably just for PR. You’ll survive.” You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder before looking back up at him. “No matter what happens tonight, I’m so proud of you.”

He moved your head towards him to place a kiss on top of your perfectly styled hair before you moved to talk to the woman sitting beside you. “Congratulations,” you smiled at her. “I’m sure you both must be so excited.”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to look at her husband who was staring daggers back at Jake. “Yeah, we are. And, wow, you’re engaged! If you asked me a year ago if I thought that Jake Seresin would ever propose I would have laughed. But the second I saw you two together,” she placed a hand over yours. “I knew that this was something special. Make sure to cherish it,” she added before turning to talk to her husband.

As the hosts got to the stage and started the show, the crowd greww quiet and you felt Jake tense beside you. “It’ll be okay. I promise,” you said, taking his hand in yours.

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“And now,” the presenter declared, “the nominees for this year’s Best Actor award…” He trailed off as the screen began playing clips of the actor’s scenes before cutting to where they sat in the audience.

“Jake Seresin!” The presenter declared, and you saw your fiance up on the screen, waving to the camera, a nervous smile on his face.

“Alright, baby, this is it,” you said to him, squeezing his hand.

Jake nervously fidgeted with the ring on your finger as his body tensed and his breaths grew shallow. “No matter what, you’re proud?” He asked, not looking away from the stage. “You promise?” “Yes, my love,” I promise.

The presenter opened the white envelope in his hands. “And the winner is…”

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#top gun #top gun maverick #glen powell #hangman #hangman top gun #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #top gun rooster #hollywood #top gun au #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #actor!jake #actor!bradley #a-list universe

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