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peppermintsparker · 1 year

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and with all the ways, i think i'll tell you forever [ e.munson ]

summary -- the five times eddie tells the reader he loves them, and the one time he actually says it warnings -- fluff, maybe a little bit of angst?, explicit language, r has a bad mental health week, talks of not eating properly authors note -- brownie points to whomever spots the riverdale references. also, the KISS record mentioned throughout this fic is indeed i was made for loving you baby. this is briefly edited and is like 5.3k words enjoy

Despite the rest of your friends having learnt about the crush you harboured towards Eddie Munson six months ago, you still hadn’t really spoken much about it. Hell, you hadn’t even confessed your feelings to your friend group so it was beyond you how they discovered it. No matter how often Robin, a friend you’re not exactly close with, but you’re close enough to talk to about girly stuff, has explained that Eddie loved you too because ‘have you seen the way he actually looks at you?’, you’re still on the fence about it.

So, one way or another, you’re determined to get the truth out of him. Only, it’s not going to be as easy as you initially believed.

Absentmindedly tapping a rhythm on the Family Video counter, you counted the hours until your shift was over. Robin had practically begged you to take her closing shift, waffling on about a movie night Vickie had sequestered her for, and you were beginning to regret saying yes. Steve had left half an hour ago, citing that he was already staying behind an extra hour, so now it was just you. It’s not as if anyone else could come and hang out either, it was a Hellfire night so Eddie was too busy.

There’s a record player tucked away behind the counter, records haphazardly stuffed into the cupboard too, so it’ll have to be enough entertainment until your shift is over. There’s a KISS one in there you’ve listened to a thousand times, a bunch of them once or twice, but you know what you’re in the mood for tonight.

Eddie walks through the door as the record starts playing for the third time, and there's a gleeful look on his face so you know the end of the campaign has gone well. Dungeons and Dragons is never a big topic of conversation, not that he ever minds. You’ve played it before, but not often, so your comprehension of it isn’t the best. “You’re looking at an amazing genius of a Dungeon Master.” Eddie gloats, a flair for dramatics that you love so dearly.

You beam beatifically at him, moving from behind the counter to hug him quickly. “This mean you can hang out with me until my shift ends before driving me home?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Eddie’s confused at the lack of Steve and Robin, he knows you don’t often work a shift without one or both of them. “Covering Robin’s shift because Vickie sequestered her for a movie night. Steve couldn’t stay, ‘cause he already stayed over an hour past the end of his shift. Just little ol’ me on the close.”

“Hence the KISS?” Eddie questions, and you nod in confirmation. KISS isn’t the heaviest thing you’ve listened to, you’ve acquired Eddie’s particular music taste over the years the two of you had been friends, but you both know neither Steve or Robin is particularly keen. Eddie doesn’t even realise the questions you’ve asked, until the two of you have moved behind the counter and you’ve jumped up on it to stare at him expectantly. “You never have to ask for me to hang out with you, or drive you home.”

You know this, you truly do, though it always feels nice to hear him confirm this. You’re pretty sure Eddie would go to the ends of the Earth if you’d asked him too, but Eddie knows he would bring you the Universe twice over for even just a tiny hint of a smile. You don’t say anything in response, just hum along to the record playing and ignoring the way Eddie tears open a pack of Red Vines. “I hope you’re going to pay for them.” You deadpan, trying to be serious with him. It’s only Family Video, so you don’t entirely care if they’re losing profit on some ridiculously cheap candy, but Eddie’s easy to mess with sometimes.

Eddie looks mildly panicked, balancing a Red Vine in between his lips, much like he does with a blunt, before digging through his pockets in a desperate attempt to come up with some loose change to cover the price of them. It’s never his intention to get you into trouble at work, and he’s beginning to feel guilty that he just took them. “Shit, let me run out to the van real quick, I might have some gas money in there.”

Feelings of guilt begin to stab at your heart. You know how much the Munson’s struggle for money, Wayne’s pitiful wage coming from working nights is barely enough to pay the bills and keep enough food in the trailer to feed the two of them. “I was kidding!” You exclaim, voice so loud you’re practically yelling. “It’s just 75 cents, I really don’t care that much and I hardly think they’ll know they’re gone.”

Eddie’s expression turns unreadable, and if you hadn’t known him for ten or so years, you’d assume he was angry. But he’s not angry, he never is. You’ve always been too kind, flounced through life with a pocketful of sunshine you practically sprinkle onto everybody you meet. And it’s impossible for him to feel anything but adoration when it comes to you. But, “that was cruel. It's so cruel to toy with me like that.”

Your smile is euphoric, and Eddie knows that he’s in trouble. “You’d really sacrifice your gas money just so I wouldn’t get in trouble with the boss?” Your voice goes all quiet when you ask, and Eddie’s sure that if he hadn’t been standing so close to you, he wouldn’t have heard you ask at all. And he thinks it breaks his heart just a little bit, to know you question how much you’re worth to him.

“Every time we only have one slice of pizza left, and we decide to cut it in half, I always make sure I cut it unevenly and give you the bigger slice.” Eddie confesses, and a warmth spreads itself from the tips of your fingers inwards. “I would give it all up for you in a heartbeat, Y/n. You’re my best friend, my girl. And money isn’t half as important to me as you are.”

And even though it feels like the world has come to a standstill, the music continues playing and the world goes on. But still, you wonder if Eddie means for you to take it as it was: a confession of love.

Various flashcards and textbooks surrounded you as you sat cross legged on your bedroom floor. It was the midst of finals season, and you were beginning to feel the crushing pressure of wanting to do well. It wasn’t as though you were a straight A student with a 4.0 GPA and Valedictorian status at graduation at stake, owing to your tendency to sail through school with an apparent devil-may-care attitude (how you scraped by with C’s was beyond you, truly) but rather it was a case of you wanting to exceed peoples expectations of you.

The KISS record you had playing made it practically impossible for you to hear any outside sounds, which worked perfectly when your brother had his irritating jock friends over. It’s not as though they’d bother you any time soon, Jason Carver was just too popular to ignore and they knew it. Their world consisted of parties and basketball, whilst yours consisted of the arcade and studying and music. You didn’t fit into their world, they didn’t fit into yours and it was better for everyone.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling you were being watched, you drew your attention away from the textbook to look out the window, only to see Eddie staring back at you with a smile on his face. The grin on yours is nearly identical, and you don’t even bother with being mindful of your school stuff as you jump up to let him through. He waits for you to unlatch the window before sliding it open with a, “hey there, Juliet. Nurse off duty?”

Standing aside to let Eddie climb through, you can’t help but feel enamoured at his actions. You had told him that morning that you were going to be studying all day, so you might not be able to find enough time to hang out with him, so you really weren’t expecting to find him climbing through your window at 6pm. “What are you doing here, Eds?” You find yourself questioning his actions, ignoring his invitation of a hug in favour of finding out his intentions.

“I missed you, that’s all.” Eddie shrugs, pretending he doesn’t find the question ridiculous. He knows he’ll never tell you, but every second the two of you are apart he misses you. You’re his best friend, only he knows he loves you more than a best friend probably should. Eddie Munson loves you so much it physically pains him to know you might not love him the same.

When he offers up a hug, you don’t decline this time. In fact, it takes everything in you to not confess your love this second. If your entire friendship, plus the complete humiliation of having to face your annoying brother afterwards, wasn’t at stake, you’d confess in a heartbeat. Instead, you let yourself be squeezed in an infamous Eddie Munson hug, the type he reserves just for you, and offer up an, “I missed you too. Silly boy.”

The hug doesn’t last as long as you wish it would, and Eddie’s all too quick to let you go back to your studying whilst he lays on his stomach next to you, not completely understanding what you’re studying but he asks questions anyway, insistent on helping you to study. And though he’s missed it before, Eddie’s eyes widen at the lack of snacking evident.

“Have you eaten yet today?”

A beat of silence before,

“Alright. Come on then, sunshine.” Eddie stands up before helping you up, abandoning your textbooks in favour of turning the record off before all but dragging you down the stairs and out of the house. “Taking you to Benny’s and treating you. Can’t let my best girl starve.”

And oh, you think to yourself, if you weren’t sure before, you most certainly are now. He’s your best friend, only you love him more than a best friend probably should. You love Eddie Munson so much it physically pains you to know he might not love you the same.

Although, you think he might do.

“Stupid idiot with his stupid basketball practice.” You grumble to yourself as you trudge down the pathway leading away from school. A gust of wind blows through you, and you tug your lilac cardigan closer to yourself in defence. It’s not as if it will help matters at all, because not even thirty seconds later the sky opens up and it pours with rain. “Stupid fucking idiot and his stupid basketball practices leaving me to walk home alone.”

Jason Carver is an absolute fool, you think to yourself, growing more frustrated with the situation at hand. You’re almost positive that he had told your parents that morning there was no scheduled practice today which meant that he’d be able to drive the two of you home. Realistically, it wasn’t his fault if the basketball practice had been unexpectedly thrust onto the team; it was safer, however, to presume that Jason was just being an asshole about having to drive you home.

A car speeds past you awfully fast, splashing dirty puddle water all over your outfit and it’s just bad enough to make you cry. And you feel silly for it, you truly do, but now you’re stuck walking home in a soaking wet outfit with the rain only making it ten times worse. It had truly been a terrible day: you’d forgotten your lunch money at home, you’d failed a pop quiz and now you were about to get sick.

Bending down to tie your shoelace up, you don’t notice the van pull up beside you, only notice the sudden lack of downpour. “Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is soft and you wonder if he knows how much of a bad day you’re being subjected to. The shoelaces are forgotten about as you straighten yourself up to hug the boy in front of you, incredibly grateful to see your best friend. “Come on, jump in the van. I’ll drive you back to the trailer with me, get you changed out of these sopping wet clothes and into a hot shower. Think I’ve got some pyjamas you can wear too. Sounds good?”

You mumble out a tearful yes as you follow him into the van, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to hear you so downtrodden. The van ride to the trailer is silent, save for Eddie’s humming of a song all too familiar to you. It’s a KISS record you play practically all the time, and you wonder if it’s become yours and Eddie’s song at this point. It’s still raining when the two of you pull up outside the trailer, and Eddie jumps out of the van before you climb out. He’s insistent on sheltering you underneath his jacket, not even caring about the rain himself.

Having visited the trailer enough times where it’s become your second home, you feel comfortable enough helping Eddie dig out some clean and dry pyjamas for yourself before taking them into the bathroom to shower. The hot water is relaxing, and you’d spend all day in the shower if it weren’t for the expensive water bill and the worry of using up the precious hot water. Dressed in a slightly too big spare Hellfire club t-shirt and a pair of navy blue pyjama pants, you head into the living area.

“Feel better?” Eddie asks from where he’s sprawled across the couch, notebook and pen next to him whilst he strums an unfamiliar tune. He’s songwriting, you realise, and you feel warmth spreading through your bones at getting to be with him during something so intimate. When you don’t answer, Eddie speaks again, “mac and cheese will be ready soon if you’re hungry. Dunno when the rain will stop, but you’re more than welcome to spend the night.”

“Thanks,” you smile, ignoring the butterflies. Eddie’s kindness is of no surprise to you, not really, he’s been kind ever since the two of you first became friends. When he discovered Jason Carver was your idiotic brother, you worried he’d stop being friends with you. Jason had made a name for himself, and it was frighteningly obvious that he absolutely detested Eddie Munson. But the friendship only strengthened, and you supposed that was the end of the popularity Jason had promised if you quit hanging around with the so-called freak of Hawkins. “You didn’t have to stop for me though, I would've been just fine walking home alone.”

“It’s raining outside, sweetheart.” Eddie says it as though he has to remind you, and you both know he doesn’t. Because you’re all too aware of the rain pouring down outside. And, he doesn’t want to ask, not really, but there’s a niggling feeling inside of you screaming that he’s going to ask. Because, it’s Eddie Munson, and when he’s worried he’ll go to the ends of the Earth to find out what he can do to help. “Why were you walking home? I thought your brother was driving you, and said that you didn’t need to wait around for me today.”

“Jason’s at practice,” you explain with a shrug. Eddie doesn’t say anything, just puts his guitar down and moves off the couch to stir the mac and cheese on the cooker. At least, you assumed Jason was at basketball practice. Ever since the two of you were children, he had an awful tendency to spin a web of lies; one so tightly woven together it was impossible to unravel. “Least, that’s the excuse he’ll use with mom and dad. But I don’t care if he’s lying, ‘cause I get to spend more time with you.”

There’s a lull in conversation as Eddie dishes up the pasta dish and the two of you take your seat at opposite sides of the table. You stretch your leg until it’s entwined with Eddie’s and you’re both playing a game of footsie as you eat. And it’s nice, you think to yourself, to be sharing such a tender moment of domesticity with the person you love the most.

You just wish that you could freeze this moment and live in it forever.

You don’t know why you’re not feeling so good at this current moment in time, but you’re definitely not having a good time. Whatever it is, it’s left you bedridden and you’ve skipped school for the past week and a half. There’s an annoyance you can hear in your mom’s voice when she comes to check up on you in the mornings, but you’re not sure you care much about it. Caring about things seems too hard, at least that’s what you think anyway.

Jason obviously doesn’t care, he’s practically avoided you like you’ve got the plague. The thought of that makes you laugh bitterly, maybe you have got the plague and you’ll die a gruesome death. But that can’t be right, you’re not displaying any physical symptoms of the plague. Headache and stomach ache aside, physically you’re perfectly healthy.

“Hey, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is a soft whisper as he tiptoes through your doorway. He’s taken his shoes and jackets off by the front door, and it’s strange to see him without his armour. Then again, it’s strange to see him come in through the door; normally he sneaks through your window late at night. “Your mom let me in, said you’re not feeling too good. You’ve missed a lot of school, figured I should bring you the stuff you’ve missed so you can catch up when you’re feeling up to it. Teachers have said no pressure, but I know how important school is to you.”

You don’t have to say thank you to Eddie, you know he’d do anything for you if you just said the word. And, it makes you feel guilty when you think about all the times he’s spontaneously cancelled Hellfire club meetings just because you’ve needed him. Eddie knows you struggle with shyness, or the expectations people have for you. And, you’ve got friends. You hang out with Steve and Robin from time to time; but Eddie knows that he’s probably the only person you would actually consider a best friend.

Tears which had been previously clinging to your lash line dribble down your cheeks, and you can’t help but feel silly for crying.”I’m sorry,” you sniffle, scrubbing the tears away as though they’re supposed to be a secret. It’s not as though Eddie hasn’t seen you cry before; he’s seen you cry lots of times, from sad movies to cute animal movies that have a happy ending. He’s pretty sure you sobbed at Top Gun, no matter how much you deny it. “You’re just so lovely, and I really don’t feel well.”

You’re overwhelmed, Eddie decides, and thinks it’s best if the school work is placed on the back burner for now. He knows you’ll start it when you feel ready to, even if it takes all weekend. There’s a pair of his pyjama pants on top of your dresser, left there from the last sleepover, and Eddie’s quick to snatch them up and slip into your bathroom to change into them. He leaves his rings and chain on the counter, they’re safe there, before stepping back into the bedroom with the intent of cuddling you.

You’re quiet as he climbs into the bed, but you know that you don’t have to say anything to Eddie. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm?” His voice is reduced to a soft whisper, hiding the two of you under the covers. Eddie wants nothing more to protect you from the world completely, but you’re brave and he knows you can do anything. Sometimes he worries though, wondering if you believe you’re as safe with him as he hopes you believe, “you can talk to me. You know this, Y/n. Nothing you say will leave these blankets if you don’t want it to.”

You force him into a pinky promise before you spill everything, from the little things like the old lady you’d seen eating alone at Benny’s and how you’re afraid that’ll be you in sixty years time, all the way to more hard hitting stuff like wondering if you’re as good enough as people will have you believe. “Nobody has ever been deliberately unkind,” you reassure him, even if you’re not sure you believe it. “But everyone expects me to be so much more because of Jason and I feel like I’m just being buried alive under the weight of it all. And, I feel so silly for being so hurt because people aren’t meaning to hurt me, you know?”

Eddie has no idea that you’ve been feeling this way, and it hurts to know you’ve been feeling this way alone. “Just because nobody has ever been deliberately unkind,” he starts, trying to choose his words carefully so as to not cause you any more upset. “It doesn’t mean that you don’t get the right to feel hurt. No matter what people expect of you, just know that you are enough exactly the way you are. You’re my best friend, my favourite girl, and you’ve stood by my side when it mattered the most so you best believe I’m gonna do the same for you, sweetheart. And when the time comes, we’re gonna run from this town together.”

“Just me and you?”

Eddie smiles, the soft boyish grin he reserves just for you. The same smile that resulted in you spilling your Slurpee down your front when you had first met him, “me and you forever, sweetheart.”

Birthdays in the Carver household typically go one of two ways: a big celebration, or a small gathering. Whilst Jason preferred the big celebration, something that was so typically and annoyingly him, you preferred to have a smaller celebration. It’s a preference that stemmed from your eighth birthday party, nobody had turned up and you’d cried for hours. You’d told Eddie this on your sixteenth birthday, and he vowed to never let you celebrate a birthday alone.

Whilst Jason had a big party for his eighteenth birthday, you insisted on a much smaller party. Alcohol had been scarce, only a few beers that Eddie had persuaded his Uncle Wayne to buy, but it didn’t matter to you. You would have all your friends there, and that’s what mattered most to you. You weren’t like Jason, didn’t need to rely on drinking to be able to tolerate the friends you’d made throughout school.

“Happy birthday!” Steve cheered as he walked through your bedroom door, shoes and jacket abandoned by the front door as per your mom’s instructions. Robin follows, echoing a similar sentiment with a gift bag in one hand and holding an unfamiliar girl's hand. Steve must sense the confusion, and already knows who she is, “this is Vickie, Robin’s not girlfriend-girlfriend.”

You nod, although you can’t help but feel envy that Steve got to meet the infamous Vickie before you had. Though, you’re not sure you can blame them entirely because if you’re not working, you’re normally stuck like glue to Eddie’s side. Still, you plaster on a saccharine sweet smile and greet the girl anyway, wanting to make a good first impression on someone important to one of your friends.

Eddie, though not able to see your face, can tell you’re tense about something so he cracks open some beers, lounging across the bed with a loose smile. You can’t help but wish you hadn’t invited Steve or Robin to the party, much less offering up a plus one. It’s not as though you hate being around people, because Steve and Robin have quickly become your close friends even if you don’t know them as well as you know Eddie, but you’d much rather your birthday just be a you and Eddie type of deal.

You think they can sense your overall discomfort, so they stay for two hours; just long enough to eat plenty of snacks and watch a movie you’d already picked out. They leave on your promise to call them to thank them once you’ve opened their gifts, and then it’s just you and Eddie once again. And it’s nice, you think, to spend your birthday with Eddie Munson. The boy who’s been a part of you for longer than you can remember.

Eddie’s shy as he hands you his gift, it’s sloppily wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper, with your name hastily scribbled on top but it’s perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I had to beg Benny to give me yesterday’s paper. I didn’t have any actual wrapping paper,” he explains, anxiously rubbing at his nape. You’re careful as you open it, a cassette falling out of the wrapping. “I’ve been curating the tracklist for a while now, just a bunch of songs that remind me of you.”

You’re quiet as you load it into your Walkman, music blaring through your headphones and when the first song plays, Eddie wishes he had a camera so that he could capture the smile that splits your face in two. It’s the KISS song that you play 24/7, and it warms your heart to know that Eddie thinks of you whenever you hear it. “Lay down with me.” You beg Eddie, taking off the headphones, and he does. It’s awkward sharing the headphones, but you make it work.

You’ve spent birthdays in lots of ways over the years, but none of them will come quite as close to perfection as this moment.

It’s been a week since you last saw Eddie, and you can’t blame him. He’s been busy with his job at the Hideout and you’ve been waitressing for Benny from time to time to get some extra cash in between shifts at Family Video. Graduation was last month, and whilst you’ve been trying to spend every waking moment together, you know you both need to earn some cash if you want to run away together.

You just didn’t bank on how hard it would be to miss Eddie so much. Though, maybe you think you miss him so much because you love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Saturday rolls around quickly though, and you’re dressed in your prettiest summer dress as you walk up to the trailer. “Hey you,” Eddie grins lazily from his spot on the porch, his guitar in one hand and a cigarette in between his lips. It’s not as though Wayne cares about Eddie smoking inside or not, doesn’t care about if he plays guitar inside or not, but it’s a hot day today and you wonder if it’s cooler outside than it is in the trailer. “Wouldn’t go in there if I were you, sweetness, it’s hot as balls in there.”

Shrugging, you perch on the floor in front of him, resting a cheek on his knee, content to just exist in this moment forever. “Missed you this past week,” you confess, voice just above a quiet whisper and if it weren’t for the fact Eddie had stopped playing guitar, you know he wouldn’t have heard. “Mom kept asking if we’ve fallen out. I just said we’ve been busy working.”

Eddie hums, stubbing out his finished cigarette in the ashtray beside him before carding calloused fingers through your hair. It’s a nice type of domesticity that you want to exist in forever, just freeze time and never unpause it. “Missed you too,” Eddie’s voice is an equal whisper, as though he’s too afraid of disturbing the stillness. “I always miss you when you’re not around.”

You think you should tell him, so you do. “I love you.” A whisper against his knee, quiet, matching the tenderness of the moment. And, you know you’ll regret it, but you know life is too short for regrets so you feel compelled to look up at him this time, “I love you, Eddie Munson. I love you so much that it hurts sometimes. Because, I look at you, and you’re a boy I don’t think will ever be mine.”

Eddie’s left lost for words. In all the time he’s loved you silently, he never imagined that you’d love him back just as much. And, he wants to say it back but he knows that he can’t. You were born and raised in a silver spoon community, a world where you simply had to ask for something and you’d get it without worrying about the financial aspect. Eddie knows that’s not a life he can offer you, “I can’t, baby. We can’t.”

You think your heart has shattered into a thousand tiny pieces at his words, and you’re close to begging for him to take them back. And you want to run as far as you possibly can, but you think you’ve been glued to the porch and Eddie’s gentle hands still carding through your hair are practically trapping you there. “Don’t say that,” you beg instead, willing him to take his words back. “Please don’t.”

Tears are leaving shiny tracks on your cheeks, and Eddie can feel himself melting until he has no choice but to explain. “I can’t love you baby, but I do. I love you so much,” you both ignore the tears spilling out of Eddie’s brown eyes as he talks. It feels like the kinder thing to do at this moment. “I’m from the wrong side of the tracks, sweet girl. You’re from a world where money was never a struggle. And the life you were born into isn’t a life I won’t ever be able to give you. I love you baby, so much. Please believe me. But the kindest thing for you is for me to let you go. Let you find someone who can give you the type of love and life I can’t give you.”

You move so quickly that Eddie worries that he’s taken some of your hair out, but when his fingers prove empty and hair free, he worries a little bit less. But you’re angry, and heartbroken, “I have never wanted that life!” You know you can’t yell, lest you cause a scene and embarrass the two of you. “I don’t care about money. I don’t care about living a life of rich luxuries. I just want you Eddie, a life with you is the only life I want. Even if that means living in trailers and eating Kraft mac n cheese and television dinners instead of fancy meals at expensive restaurants.”

You’re sobbing now, knees digging into the rough wood of the porch as you cry so hard Eddie’s worried you’ll cry yourself sick. But as quick as it starts, it stops as though you’ve wondered where you are. “I’ve spent so long trying to be everything my brother isn’t in the hopes that you’ll love me the same way I love you. Because I don’t want to spend my life loving someone who won’t ever be mine. Please Eddie. Please just-”

Eddie cuts you off, pressing his hands to your cheeks without a single worry in the world for how damp and sticky they may be. “I don’t want to spend my life loving someone who won’t ever be mine either,” his voice is a quiet whisper, and his words a balm to your heartbreak. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The two of you pack up the van with your belongings at the end of summer, moving two states over. And even though Eddie can’t give you a life of luxuries, he can give you a life where he’s yours and you’re his.

And when you elope two months later, with the same KISS record playing in the background, you know that this is a life you want forever.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #peach writes

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peachteaships · 5 months

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Had one drink so far, so it's time to post a sneak peek of the upcoming angst. Lmao

Cw for blood mention under the cut.

That's all you're getting for now!!! Hope ya enjoy the little sneak peak!!

#peach speaks #peach's wip #peach writes #cw blood #uh reblogs are???? idk #lmao

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium

Simon’s phone is ringing.

Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.

His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen.

You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way.

“Hey, you-“

“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff.

It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train.

“He followed you from the platform?”

“Well, he could be walking this way too…”

“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we.

The baby is with you.

His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her?

He feels sick.

“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.

“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“

“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?”

“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot. “Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.”

“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head.

It all comes screeching to a stop.

He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name.

“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.”

“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it.

“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train.

“Oh my god.”

“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear.

“Our hero.”

#peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #this might be my favorite?#Simon threatens a man because he scared you and I find that very attractive #light on

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katsukiizmoon · 8 months

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Katsuki loves you so much it actually pisses him off. Cuteness aggression or whatever— he hates you.

Your lips curl into a familiar grin and you stand on your toes for a moment to kiss his cheek. Then you’re turning your back and leaving him to watch you stand at the stove and stir a pot.

His tshirt looks too good on you, your humming makes his bones ache, and Katsuki hates it. His teeth grit and he breathes through his nose. Long and slow, willing himself to calm down. It hurts between his ribs, seeing you suck your bottom lip using your teeth and grab a spice.

Everything you do sets him on fire then puts him out. It’s like being endlessly edged, drove to the point of insanity and then tugged away. It scares him shitless.

When nimble fingers trace over the indents in his skin at night, lulling his insecurities into a slumber, he squeezes his eyes shut. Your voice burns in his throat and makes him choke up. It tucks his insecurities into their forever resting place. You say “I love you forever” and he melts like the slow drip of a candle.

Katsuki’s fingers twitch and he taps his foot rapidly to stay calm. And all his plans go to shit when you pepper soft kisses across his abdomen and whisper little things. He blinks blearily.

His cherry, narrow eyes now bigger than ever and filling with tears. They water until he sucks in a breath and huffs. The ache in his bones rattles, begging him to keep his demeanor.

“Stupid shithead.” Katsuki bites, his thumb rubbing circles into your back.

“Love you too baby.” You quip back promptly, pecking his jaw and yawning. And he will lull you into sleep as you did his insecurities.

#bakugou x reader #peaches writes #masterlist #bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x yn

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leclerced · 5 months

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dirty little secret | mv1

summary: based on this request, max is dating his rival/best friend charles's younger sister and loses the no nut november bet he made

warnings: 18+ minors dni unprotected sex. wrap your willy before you get silly!

author's note: i actually kind of hate sibling pairings usually, but i woke up three hours ago and accidentally created a mini universe around this idea and i am in love with it? i wrote 4k+ and this is 1.8k of it, let me know if you'd like to see more of peach and max. requests are open!

masterlist

This was a dangerous game they were playing. Peach had flown out for the last few races of the season to support her brother and her secret boyfriend. She hated that they made this bet a week before, that she hadn’t taken him completely seriously when they were facetiming and he said he wasn’t going to fuck her the entire month of November when she joined them for the last month of the season. He said he didn’t want to get caught, and they’d already gone so long, one more month wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it was No Nut November and he’d already agreed to do it with Lando and Charles. She scowled at the mention of her brother and changed the subject, forgetting about it until she snuck into his hotel room that night and he told her he was serious. They made out and dry humped for an hour while she reasoned with him then begged him to fuck her.

Max could have fucked her when she flew in on Halloween, but he didn’t want to be slow and gentle. He wanted to grip her hips, choke her, spank her, leave bruises all over her body. And he couldn’t do that when they would be seeing his brother first thing in the morning for breakfast. He was going to wait until they were back in Monaco and he could hole her up in his penthouse and have his way with her without anyone to see the marks he left on her. It helped that Lando had drunkenly proposed they do no nut November since they were all single, and there was no way he was going to tell Lando the reason he couldn’t was because he had a secret girlfriend. Lando and Charles were gossips, and wouldn't stop interrogating him until he gave in and admitted who he'd been screwing.

The first few days were fine, she tried convincing him to touch her, to fuck her, but he'd just kiss her while rocking his hips against hers until he felt like he was going to burst if he didn't stop, then he'd roll off of her, or push her off him and fall right asleep. She'd toss and turn with the uncomfortable heat between her legs until she fell asleep. They made it all the way until Vegas before she got him inside of her. They'd gone out celebrating another record breaking win of his, and he'd gotten lost in the feeling of her lips on his as she drunkenly stripped them both down back in their hotel room. She was on top of him and he'd forgotten about the bet until she slipped him inside of her for the first time in months and sighed into his mouth. He'd frozen, a moan trapped in his throat as he tried to ground himself when she began rocking her hips against him. She wanted to cry when he rolled them over, relieved that he was going to take over and fuck her like she'd been craving. But he just kissed her slowly and stayed completely still. She tried rolling her hips into his but he gripped her hips with a bruising forced and pushed her hips into the bed, "Stop. Don't fucking move or I'll pull out."

She whined, tears welling up in her eyes, "Maxie," she slurred his name painfully, "Maxie, please, please, I need it."

He pressed his face into her neck and shook his head, "We have eleven fucking days left. You can wait." She whimpered and he felt her fluttering around him as he kissed her neck. "Just go to sleep, peach." She sighed and sniffled, and he pulled back to see tears rolling down her temples from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away and cupped her cheeks in his hands, "You can be good for me, can't you schatz?" She nodded wordlessly as his lips brushed her cheek and he murmered, "You're always so good for me, pet." It took her an hour to fall asleep around him as he pressed kisses into her skin the entire time trying to relax her, but it was pure torture that she couldn't bare asking him to stop.

They slept like that for the next week, him finding a way to slip inside of her and lock her in his arms so she couldn't slip away in the middle of the night. They'd wake up sore and uncomfortable from not moving all night, even in their sleep they couldn't stop touching each other. He thought they would make it until a week later he woke up to her rocking back against him and he could feel his orgasm bubbling in his stomach. He tightened his grip on her to still her and bearily hissed, "Stop moving." She squirmed in his arms and didn't respond other than a sigh as his tighter grip pulled her impossibly closer. Max blinked his eyes open and felt how relaxed she was against him, her body was limp in his arms as he pulled his face away from where he'd buried his face in her back. She was still asleep as she fucked himself on his cock. He groaned as he untangled his arms and rolled away from her, pushing her onto her stomach as he rolled onto his back.

He was counting his breaths, had just hit ten when she shifted next to him. Her arm pulled out from underneath her stomach and she blindly reached out to him. her hand hit his stomach, right next to his aching cock and she froze as he fingers touched the puddle of precum on his stomach. "Don't touch me." he hissed as she turned her head to him. She licked her lips as she sleepily fluttered her eyelashes at him and took in the sight in front of her. Her fingers dragged through the mess and she teasedingly murmered why not? as she pulled her hand to her mouth, lips parting so she could suck her wet fingers into her mouth. He swiftly inhaled through his nose as he watched her hollow her cheeks around her fingers. "I'm going to cum if you do."

She sighed at the taste on her tongue and sucked her finger tips clean before she removed them and mumbled "Miss the way you taste." His cock twitched and he rubbed his face as he groaned, he was so close to cumming, the words almost did him in. He felt her fingers run across his stomach again, collecting more of his cum to taste, he assumed. He opened his eyes again just in time to see her hand slip from her lips a second time then retreat beneath her body and her eyes flutter shut as she gasped, "Fuck, Maxie, I miss the way you feel. 'M so wet for you." He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a sigh, and he realized she'd started touching herself. He felt his resolve crumble at the realization, at the sound of her sighing his name as she arched her back.

Max couldn't stop himself as he pushed himself up and crawled on top of her, trapping her legs on either side of his as he straddled her. He bit his lip at the sight of her glistening cunt, her fingers already soaked as she ran them through her lips and circled her clit for him, putting on a show now that he was behind her and watching. He didn't say anything as he lined up with her entrance and slowly pushed back inside. She expected him to stop when he bottomed out, but he began fucking her at that agonizingly slow pace as she swirled her fingers around her clit. She wasn't going to last, she had been dreaming about fucking him and woke up feeling her clit throbbing between her legs. She felt so good like this, still half asleep and drunk on pleasure, her entire body was sending waves of pleasure to her brain and she wanted to spend the rest of her life like this.

It only got better when he leaned down and pressed his chest to her back as he kissed her shoulder. Max could hear her breathing quickening as his lips kissed her skin and his hands roamed her body, squeezing her hips and ass before slipping under her body to grasp at her bare breasts. He was trying so hard not to cum the moment he slipped back inside her, he just needed to push her over the edge so he could feel her gushing around him and he would fall apart with her. He quickened his pace a bit, needing to feel her cum around him as soon as possible, and pulled her hips up to meet his. The newfound urgency in his thrusts and his cock hitting that spongy spot inside her made her mind spin as she suddenly cried, "There, right there, 'm gonna-" her words were cut off by a moan as she shuddered beneath him and he felt her release around him. It was a domino effect, as soon as his cock felt her clenching around him he froze in place, teeth sinking into her shoulder as he finally came.

She writhed beneath him, rocking her hips back into him as much as she could with his weight on her. She loved the feeling of him releasing inside her, it made her orgasm hit her even harder than she thought as she sloppily rubbed at her clit. She couldn't make up her mind, her fingers stilling because she was too sensitive, then circling the over sensitive bud because she needed to feel herself clench around him again to make his cock twitch inside her as it dripped more cum.

Neither of them said anything for a long while, he kissed the bite mark he'd left on her shoulder then rested his cheek on her back while they caught their breath. "Couldn't last four more days, huh?" She finally teased and he laughed.

"Woke up to you fucking yourself on me, can't blame me. Almost came when I woke up, barely stopped myself."

She whined and he felrt her clench around him at his words, "You should have just fucked me awake. Rude of you not to wake me up by filling me."

He groaned and pressed his face into her warm, soft skin. "You're going to get me killed." She giggled as the bet he'd made with her brother and their friend resurfanced in her mind.

"Guess this means you lose. Can I tell Charlie?" She was teasing him again, he knew it, but it made him nervous.

Max stiffened on top of her, "No. No. You are not telling your brother. We are not going public by saying you made me lose this fucking bet."

She giggled gleefully and reached back to curl her fingers into his hair, "Better shut me up then, if you wanna keep me your dirty little secret."

#max verstappen smut #f1 smut #mv1 #f1 #f1 imagine #mv1 smut #my writing #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #peach au

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fuyupeach · 7 months

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intros w/ raiden ! slightly flirty (but definitely not hiding their attraction lmao) mc

a/n: mk1 has been my recent obsession and this rendition of raiden is WAYYY better (and hotter) in my opinion, so in typical writer fashion i had to churn something out for him (mainly bc there isn’t much rn LMAO)! this style of fanfic is actually really fun! and saves me a whole lot of details lol. hopefully i got his character right!

as always, gender neutral!reader

Raiden: Your moves are almost enchanting.

You: Oh. Thank you, Raiden.

You: Make sure to keep your eyes on the weapons I'm currently fighting you with, hm?

Raiden: Ha. I'd say the same to you.

You: You can be rougher with me. I am not so delicate.

Raiden: Is that so?

You: So, what do you say to dinner after this?

Raiden: I don't know if I will ever get used to your forward advances.

You: Oh, you are so cute when I tease you.

Raiden: ..Johnny's taking pictures of this, isn't he.

Raiden: Must you continue to tease me so? I cannot focus.

You: I can't help it! You truly bring it out of me.

Raiden: I thought you said you were going to win? So much for dinner.

You: I must finally be rubbing off on you.

You: You needn't worry about Kung Lao's advances, if you were wondering.

Raiden: W-Wondering? Your endeavors are not for me to pry.

You: You have a little something on your tunic.

Raiden: Hm? —Oh, that's foul play!

You: I appreciate the concern, but who is there to worry for you?

Raiden: I.. am not sure.

You: You're looking especially handsome today.

Raiden: ..As do you. Ah—beautiful, I mean!

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #raiden x reader #raiden x reader mk1 #mk1 x reader #peach writes #raiden mk1

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j-onedrabbles · 9 months

Note

Soft thought ask for you 😊

How would the skz members react to finding s/o reader asleep on the couch, curled up with their skzoo?

Love your blog sweetie! Keep up the amazing work!

thank you peach!! 🩵

Chan ♡ thinks it's actually really adorable. Can't help but smile to himself before moving you and WolfChan to the bed so you don't regret falling asleep on the couch when you wake up

Lee know ♡ Definitely takes a picture before squatting down and kissing your forehead. He’ll carry you to bed then replace Leebit with him. Why cuddle a stuffed toy when you can cuddle the real thing?

Changbin ♡ damn near almost wakes you up because he almost squealed from how cute you looked holding onto Dweakki. Stopped himself because he knew you were probably exhausted to fall asleep on the couch. He’ll maneuver you carefully so he’a laying under you and wraps his arms around you

Hyunjin ♡ another one who tale a photo— then sets it as his lockscreen. You just look so cute all snuggled up with Jiniret that be can't help but grab you guys a blanket and snuggle up with you

Han ♡ smiles and kisses your cheek. He loves seeing you snuggled up with Han Quokka but his place is in your arms so he’ll carefully move to lay on top of you with the plush laying between you guys

Felix ♡ Get’s all blush and shit. Thinks your the absolute cutest when your sound asleep but with Bbokari?! He’s died and gone to heaven. Though he feels bad for your back so he’ll wake you up just to get you in bed and lulla you back to sleep with the plush squished between you two

Seungmin ♡ thinks it’s cute but PuppyM is in his way. He’ll lean over you with a hand on your hip and kiss your cheek till you wake up then pull you off to bed to get some proper sleep. PuppyM get’s moved to the side as you cuddle the real thing, much to his content

I.N. ♡ Almost dies from cuteness overload. His adorable lil s/o snuggled up on their couch with Foxi.Ny? Even better! He’ll get behind you on the couch and wrap his arms around you and falls asleep with you.

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candied-peach · 3 months

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ao3: "hazardous to my health" rating: T warnings: prinxiety, allergic reactions genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil has an allergic reaction on the way home. Roman isn't panicking about it at all, why do you ask?

The soap bottle's label is green.

Virgil squints at it suspiciously. Roman's washing his hands at the next sink, blissfully oblivious to the war waging inside his partner. Virgil hates not being able to wash their hands. Hot water doesn't feel like it's enough. However-

Gingerly, he picks up the soap bottle, peering at the label. It proudly lists 'with aloe' like it's some kind of accomplishment, and Virgil drops it like he's been burned. No, thank you. Hot water, it is. He looks around for a paper towel dispenser, not realizing his eyes have just scanned right past it.

"Well, that's a no," he grumbles to Roman, as his boyfriend finishes up washing his hands. Roman looks at him curiously, grabbing a paper towel from the other dispenser and handing it to Virgil.

"What?" Roman asks. Virgil points at the soap while drying their hands.

"It has aloe in it," he explains.

"Oh no," Roman says, dismayed. Virgil glances down at the damp paper towel in his hands, then back up at Roman.

"I hope that doesn't bite me in the ass later," Virgil says. "You washed your hands with it-"

"Virgil," Roman says, looking distressed. Virgil shrugs as he balls the paper towel up and throws it out.

"I've never reacted before to something like that," Virgil reassures his boyfriend. "It'll be fine." To prove it, they lace their fingers in with Roman's as they leave the gas station restroom. Roman needs coffee to make it the rest of the way and Virgil wanders the aisles a little bit, trying to find something he might want to eat. He's not having much luck, though.

As Virgil buckles himself back into the car and rearranges his Mothman blanket around him, his hands start itching.

It has to be psychosomatic, Virgil thinks, trying to reassure himself. I'm just freaked out by the fact aloe is everywhere, trying to kill me. I didn't even wash my hands with the soap. It'll be fine.

Five minutes later, Virgil knows it is most emphatically not fine. He itches everywhere. He doesn't see any super dramatic outbreak of hives, but he itches and there are red splotches on his hands that weren't there before.

"Virgil, I'm sorry," Roman says, glancing at him every few minutes out of the corner of his eyes.

"It's okay," Virgil says. He glances at the dashboard. They still have an hour to go. He doesn't have any allergy medication on him. Oh no. A cough breaks free before they can stifle it, but they don't pay any attention to it. The weather's cold, and his asthma always plays up a little in cold weather.

"You're worrying me," Roman says bluntly.

"I'm okay, I swear," Virgil says, scratching his scalp with both hands. He coughs again, muffling it in his sleeve. The sun glares down at them and the snow-covered landscape.

"I'm so sorry," Roman says. Virgil shakes their head.

"It's okay," they say again. "I didn't think I'd actually react to that. It's never been that bad before." Another cough interrupts him.

"You haven't coughed this entire trip," Roman points out. Virgil opens his mouth, ready to defend his asthma, when the words sink in, and panic flares to life.

Because they've stopped before. It's been this cold, or colder, at their previous stops.

And Roman is right.

"I wish I had Benadryl or something," Virgil mutters. His throat feels...weird. Not like swelling shut or anything, but breathing feels weirdly laborious in a way he doesn't want to think about. He coughs again, scratching his arm through his jacket.

"Drink something," Roman implores, and Virgil grabs his Mountain Dew bottle out of the cup holder, twirling off the cap and taking a deep swallow. It soothes his throat a little.

They pass a dollar store and Roman pulls into the parking lot. Virgil stares at him in mild confusion, absently scratching one cheek.

"I'm gonna get you allergy stuff," Roman promises. "Do you want to stay here?" Virgil nods. Roman locks his car door behind him, leaving the car running, and Virgil nearly reaches over to unlock it again. Worry strums his nerve endings. The anxiety is not helping him breathe. He googles aloe allergy symptoms and ends up glaring at his phone when it tells him that true aloe allergies or sensitivities are very rare, and promises him multiple articles on how to use aloe to treat allergies.

"Fuck off," he grumbles, shutting off his phone screen and leaning back in his seat. They cough again, and he glances at the store doors every time they open, praying to see Roman come rushing back out. Two people come out before Roman does, and he promptly unlocks Roman's door, giving him pleading eyes as he tries to scratch a particularly itchy spot on his back.

"Benadryl extra strength?" Virgil reads, ripping the box open after glancing at the directions. This one said only one tablet, so he follows the instructions, swallowing one with another sip of his Mountain Dew.

"Yes," Roman says. "And I uh, tried to get you some other allergy stuff?" Virgil peeks in the bag to see some kind of wipes. He glances at the ingredients list, just to make sure, and dissolves into creaky laughter.

"Roman, these have aloe in them," Virgil points out, wheezing in his laughter. Roman looks at them in dismay.

"I was panicking!" Roman explains. "I'm sorry, I didn't see aloe on the ingredients, I-"

"It's okay," Virgil assures him. "I always knew you wanted to kill me and make it look like an accident," he teases. Roman turns red.

"I'm sorry, I just- and I looked at so many, too, but they all had aloe," Roman laments. "I thought those would be okay since they're for babies."

"I guess they hate babies," Virgil says solemnly, making Roman snort despite himself.

"It'll be okay," Virgil adds, as Roman pulls back into the street.

"I'm still tempted to look up the nearest hospital," Roman says. Virgil shakes their head.

"I don't want to," he admits. "Not- not yet? Give the Benadryl a chance to do something. But it will probably make me sleepy. Benadryl always knocks me out."

"That's okay," Roman says. "As long as you're okay."

Virgil still itches, but his cough has slowly started to go away. His chest still feels weird in a way he doesn't like, but he privately decides he won't say anything yet, not unless the Benadryl has fully gotten a chance to work and it's still there. Fatigue weighs him down, pressing him into his seat. They only got a few hours of sleep the night before anyway, deciding not to take their sleep meds just in case, because they didn't want to oversleep and miss check out time at the hotel.

Virgil slips in and out of a doze, listening to the miles unspooling beneath the wheels and the road trip playlist softly blare on the speakers. The sun slips below the horizon by the time Virgil opens his eyes properly, relieved to feel that the heaviness in his chest has dissipated.

"How are you feeling?" Roman asks, noticing him stir.

"Better," Virgil says sleepily. "How far now?"

"We're almost home," Roman promises them. Virgil nods, drowsy. "Just about ten or fifteen more minutes. We need dinner. Want me to go through Taco Bell or something?"

"Yeah, okay," Virgil mumbles, eyes struggling to stay open. "Sounds good to me."

Virgil perseveres through the next several minutes, relief flooding them when they see familiar landmarks and road signs. Being with Roman is always good, but he's glad they're nearly home.

"You should take a shower when we get home," Roman says. "Make sure you don't have any aloe residue or something anymore."

"Okay," Virgil agrees. "Help me?"

"Of course," Roman says softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Virgil says. He still faintly itches, but it's easy to ignore now.

"And I'm washing my hands with different soap before I hold your hand again or touch you," Roman says firmly. Virgil's bottom lip pushes out into a pout.

"Roman," he wheedles. "Come on..."

"No," Roman says. "I'm not giving you another allergic reaction." Virgil crosses their arms over their chest, pretending to sulk.

"You're so mean to me," he jokingly complains.

"I'm sorry I don't want to kill you?" Roman says, as he pulls into their driveway. A smile blooms on Virgil's face before they can stop it.

They're home.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #roman #virgil #sanders sides fic #ok to rb #peach writes #📚

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peachpety · 1 year

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come to your senses, draco malfoy

A mere glimpse of ridiculous dark curls and Draco's heart rockets into his throat.

Every bloody time.

In the Great Hall. At the pitch.

The 8th-year common room offers no respite—Potter lounges, carefree.

Stupid Potter and his dimpled, snaggle-toothed smile.

Oh, how Draco longs to smother it with his mouth.

* * *

to be continued

a chaptered microfic ficlet, part 1 of 7 written for @microficmay - 50 words 01 may prompt - yearn week one sensory challenge - sight

Part 2 →

READ ON AO3

#microficmay2023 #drarry #drarry microfic #draco x harry #a chapered microfic ficlet #50 words #nifty fifty #peach writes #come to your senses draco malfoy

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peppermintsparker · 1 year

Text

tonight (is gonna be the loneliest)

summary -- in which you're in love with peter parker, only he's not in love with you. warnings -- fucking angst on top of angst. mentions character death (uncle ben and r's father), tiny not even bad explicit language, peter parker is lowkey an asshole in this authors note -- inspired by the lonelist by maneskin. proof read a little, not edited. gif not mine.

You had grown up next door to Peter Parker, he had been your best friend since the two of you were six years old and it hadn’t changed over the years. If you went digging through attics or basements, you’d find hundreds of pictures documenting two children growing up side-by-side into teenagers. The growth charts in the houses were faded now, but you could still make out initials and numbers, and smiley faces. A childhood spent so closely together, families practically weaved together. Peter Parker was part of you.

You’re not sure where along the line you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe as a ten year old when you’d finally learnt how to do the bunny loops to tie your shoelaces by yourself, and Peter spun the two of you around in circles in celebration. Maybe as a thirteen year old when you’d had your heart broken and Peter sat up with you all night to dry your tears. Or, maybe as a sixteen year old when you noticed the way he started looking at Gwen Stacey and you realised that Peter Parker was a boy you couldn’t have.

Now seniors at Midtown High School, you knew things were about to change drastically. Life revolved around homework, college applications, extra credit work, serious boyfriends, and making the most out of a school year that would be drawing to a close soon. Gone were the days of paper planes, skinned knees, hanging upside down until the two of you were red in the face. And, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tear you up inside.

“Are you coming over tomorrow, Pete?” You asked on the walk home, sharing an earbud as you listened to the Peter + Y/n playlist, carefully curated over the years. The backpack you had since freshman year, splitting at the seams, was full of textbooks and homework, and you knew if you didn’t get it started tonight it was highly likely you’d procrastinate.

“Can’t, sorry bub.” Peter was nice enough to sound apologetic, and it hadn’t been the answer you’d been expecting. In the twelve years of friendship, you’d never not spent a Saturday together and it hurt you a little to know Peter was suddenly unavailable. “I can come over on Sunday though? We’ll start our assignment together.”

You shrugged in response, taking out the earbud as you reached your front steps. A quick goodbye was said before you ran up them and through the heavy front door, ignoring the way your backpack knocked against your back with enough force to leave bruises. Peter followed, stopping when the door slammed shut without enough time for him to slip through. Unsure if you wanted time alone or not, the boy decided it was perhaps better to leave you for now; he’d see you on Sunday.

Saturday was an incredibly boring day, for you anyway. You spent most of the day in a too-big sweater and some pj shorts, hunched over your desk as you worked through an English class essay. It felt weird not being with Peter, like something was missing and you wondered what he was doing. You wondered if he was lonely, wondered if Peter was doing anything even remotely close to exciting. You’d ask tomorrow, you decided.

Sunday rolled around, and you sat on the stairs outside your front door waiting for him to turn up, but he never did. Peter Parker, for all his lateness when it came to school, was never late for you. He had sworn against being late after he was five minutes late to your ninth birthday party, quite by accident, only to turn up and discover that nobody had come anyway; you’d been most hurt at the thought of Peter not being there.

“Come on love, dinner’s ready.” Your mom called you inside at 5pm, tea towel draped across her shoulder. You were silent as you stood and followed her, holding in all the heartbreak you were sure you’d cry into your pillow that night anyway. Peter had shown up during dinner, looking apologetic and peaky, and your mom served him some dinner and you had to pretend that his actions hadn’t cut deep inside.

Peter left after dinner, citing that his Aunt May needed help with something, and when you rounded the table for a hug, Peter didn’t stay long enough to give you the chance. Despite the action being unnecessary, you walked him to the front door and as it closed behind him, you collapsed onto the stair behind you and let yourself cry. Nothing needed to be said, the actions were enough, Peter Parker no longer saw you as a friend.

You took to ignoring him at school after that, much to his confusion. When his Uncle Ben passed away, you took Aunt May some condolence flowers and some prepared meals. “Mom said you’re welcome over anytime, which you know anyway.” You explained into a hug, feeling your own tears burn at your eyes. “She knows how you’re feeling, and said you don’t have to grieve alone. You’re not alone, Aunt May.”

A sympathetic smile sent in Peter’s direction before you stepped out of the Parker residence, unsure if you’d ever step back inside once again. Things had changed even more after that, Peter had become obsessed with avenging his Uncle’s death, fuelled by the need to catch his killer, and it was obvious that he didn’t have time for silly friendships anymore. Even if Peter Parker was still the biggest part of you.

When the seventh anniversary of your fathers passing rolled around, you found yourself crying in the arms of Aunt May. Your mom had gone to visit her mother in law for the weekend; her health had been declining in recent months, and having no other children, your mom figured it was only right for her to spend some time with her. You promised you’d be fine alone, said the Parkers were right next door if you needed them. And you did, more than ever. But where Peter failed, Aunt May succeeded.

“He should be here,” you wailed, tears coming thick and fast as you felt yourself breaking down. Peter had been there for every anniversary, every first since, and when you cried for your father, Peter had been the one to hold your hand, encouraging you to let it all out. “Peter should be here. Why isn’t he here? What could be more important?”

You’d fallen asleep on their couch that night, cheeks sticky from tears and throat raw from crying so hard. Eleven am saw you waking up to the sound of May lecturing Peter, “she needed you. You weren’t there when she needed you the most. Where were you, Peter? Where were you because you sure as hell weren’t here when it mattered the most?”

You had left when Peter Parker mumbled out that he was with Gwen Stacy; didn’t stay long enough for the apologies that you didn’t think you’d get to hear. But when Gwen’s father passed away, and Peter withdrew himself from the girl, Peter climbed through your window begging forgiveness.

“I waited for you that Sunday, and you didn’t come,” you cried, grateful your mom had been working a night shift at the local hospital. Peter could feel his heart crack at your tears, wanting to console you but moving felt impossible. “You came for dinner, and didn’t even hug me goodbye. You never leave without hugging me! And you weren’t there. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter practically stumbled over his words, unsure if you’d believe him. He hoped you would, but he’d been such an awful friend to you lately that he wasn’t sure if you’d forgive him. Not that he’d blame you if you chose not to. “Believe me bub, I’m so so sorry. God, if I could turn back time I would, I’d spend every single second with you instead of with Gwen. I’d have held you whilst you cried instead of kissing Gwen. Believe me, I would have.”

Bile rose in your throat at the statement, and you swallowed it back down. You’d been in love with Peter for years now, he’d always been part of you. Twelve years of friendship; shared skinned knees, hanging upside down until you were red in the face, a silly marriage pact, tears, laughter. Peter had been your awkward first kiss aged fourteen when you worried that nobody would ever want to kiss you. You were so in love with your best friend, and wishful thinking had you hoping he loved you too.

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’ve loved you for longer than I think I can remember. Maybe I started loving you when we were ten and you twirled me around after I learnt to tie my shoelaces alone. Or maybe it started at thirteen when you stayed with me all night to dry my tears after that jerk broke my heart. Maybe at fourteen after you were my first kiss when I worried nobody would kiss me. It was confirmed at sixteen though, when you started looking at Gwen Stacy differently and I knew you were a boy that would never be mine.”

There, it was all out in the open now. A confession you could never take back, words you never thought you’d spill. Peter looked lost for words, opening and closing his mouth eerily like a fish as he tried to think of something to say. The right thing to say. The thing you wished he’d say more than anything: I love you too.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, he turned and left your house. Leaving you alone for the last time ever.

Peter Parker will always be the saddest part of you. The part of you that would never be yours.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #the amazing spiderman x reader #the amazing spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you angst #tasm!peter parker x reader angst #tasm!peter parker angst #peter parker angst #the amazing spiderman #peach writes

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peachpitlover · 11 months

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i really can’t stop thinking about colby and like a softer reader:( like she’s got a really soft and sweet personality and maybe sometimes has trouble saying no.

when you’re out with friends he always keeps an eye on you to make sure you’re ok cause it’s kinda loud and he’s worried about you feeling overwhelmed

at parties he’s always fetching you drinks and his hand is on your lower back:( and he likes to be close to you

you know he’d much rather be watching a movie with you in bed than at a party

you go on walks and hikes together, and he plans matching outfits for the two of you

since he can’t cook, you sometimes meal prep for him during the week and he loves to sit with you in the kitchen while do cook

he doesn’t like to have a specific day of the week for a date night cause he loves surprising you and being spontaneous

he lovesssss kissing you in front of friends to make you all shy and flustered cause he loves his shy girl

he’s so protective:(

he opens every door for you and holds your hand getting in and out of the car:( i cant

if someone is kinda pushing your buttons or making you uncomfortable he’ll always stand up for you, but sometimes he likes to try get you to stand up for yourself

and he always kisses all over your face and says he’s so proud when you stand up for yourself or say no to someone

again he loves to kiss you in public to make you flustered like our to dinner with friends he’ll kiss your neck so casually and you’re just so 🧍‍♀️😧

sometimes he likes to act oblivious to get you to ask him to make you feel good

all like “colby, please” and he’s all like “please what? what do you need baby?”

and he’s so sweet kissing in your face and making sure you’re not hurting when he’s pushing in:(

he says the dirtiest things cause he knows it makes you needy and you love it

he totally teases you about being such a sweet girl but loving to be dirty for him

omg and aftercare is his absolute fav cause you’re all mushy and warm and he loves to have a bath with you afterwards

#colby brock headcannon #hc #headcannon #colby brock hc #colby brock #snc #sam and colby #colby brock blurb #colby brock concept #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock writing #peach’s writing

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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, soft smut, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, daddy kink Simon Riley/female reader

If he could choose a way to die, this would be it.

He would choose to die right in this moment, where you're laying on your back in front of him, legs spread wide, chest heaving with the exertion of your second orgasm, limp and pliable, sweet as sugar. He'd choose to die in this room, with your name on his lips, the feeling of your body against his, your muscles seizing and hips jolting under his touch, the smell of your cunt in his nose, taste of your arousal on his tongue. He'd choose to die from happiness, elation, euphoria, the feelings so strong they feel like they might burst free from his veins and flood this room, spill from his heart like it's exploded.

He's mad for it. Mad for you. Allowed his madness to guide him, take over, control his vocal chords, his limbs. He's like a marionette, strings being plucked by none other but yourself, though you're none the wiser.

"Simon?" You whisper, very quiet, careful. You're nervous, he can tell. You've been nervous since he got you home and sent Johnny on his way, nervous ever since he laid you on your back and stripped you bare, ran his lips over every inch of skin possible, every pretty little lightning bolt, every single part you tried to hide.

"I'm here." He answers, taking your wandering hand with his own, squeezing it for good measure. You're floundering, wondering, eyes wide and a little lost, anxious at the lapse. "Just lookin' at you." He says, fingers stroking across your belly, following them with his mouth. "Don't think I've ever seen something so beautiful." You giggle, and it's soft, like the chiming of bells, the kind of music that angels would make, he thinks.

"Should I-" you turn to roll, like you're going to go facedown, or maybe up onto your hands and knees, and he stills you, forearms coming up to frame your face, thumb stroking along your furrowed brow line.

"No." He shifts your hip, settling you into a better position, and then strokes his cock, nudging it against your entrance. "I want to see your face." He wants to see your face, your eyes, your mouth, more than anything else in this world. Wants to see it everyday, wants to see it crying with bliss when he makes you come around him, wants to see it when he goes to bed and when he wakes in the morning. He wants to see it on a little paper picture, tucked up into his tac vest when he's away, wants to see smiling, giggling, content... happy. Safe. There will be plenty of time for the other stuff, for when he bends you over the couch, bends you over his knee, fucks you in the kitchen, in the shower, on the table. He hovers for a moment, soaking you in, blood thundering in his veins, through his ears, throbbing into his cock, and he's so hard it nearly hurts, but he can't rush this. He has to get it right.

"Simon." You whine, hips flexing, thrusting up so he feels the heat of your body, the wet heaven of your cunt. He grits his teeth.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He grunts, and then pushes, your eyes going wide, matching the round o of your mouth, fingernails tightening into his back, fluttering pussy trying to accommodate the stretch. He's big, bigger than you in many ways, he knows, and when your back arches, legs involuntarily folding, knees lifting, he traps you there, holding them steady so he can look down and watch the way he sinks into your body, cock disappearing inch by inch.

"Ohmygod ohmy- it's too- you're-" you gasp, and he leans down, slicking his tongue against yours, stealing your whimpers and moans, greedily drinking them up.

"I know, I've got you." He thrusts a little deeper, getting closer and closer to his hips being flush with yours. "You can take it." He goes slow, working you open, getting you used to him for as long as he can stand it, watching every little expression that falls across your face, every moment of bliss. "Is that good, sweetheart?" He noses at you, and you nod with a gulp, still holding onto him, arms trembling.

"Y-yeah. So good, so so good." You babble, nearly incoherent, cock drunk, and it feeds the reckless, hungry drive inside of him, encoraging him on, faster, until he's fucking into you with enough power that you're starting to inch up the bed moaning out nonsense vowels.

He gets lost, for a second, thinking about if you didn't have an IUD. Thinking about what it would be like, if he was breeding you, filling you with his come every night until it took, until you were growing his baby, round belly underneath a sweater, cradled in his arms in bed, giving Emmaline a sibling, making you a mama again, with him, for him. It shatters across his brain like the ricochet from a gun shot, white hot light searing inside his eyes, nearly making him come inside you right there until he pulls out with a deep breath, letting the head of his cock rest just inside your body as he collects himself, and then thrusts back in.

"Fuck!" You gasp, a little too loud, and you wince, eyes shocked. He puts his hand over your mouth, kissing your nose between where it pokes out between his thumb and forefinger.

"My good girl." He thrusts, and you moan, licking the salt of his palm. "My good," He's so deep, can feel where you end, where he's pressed against your cervix, and your eyebrows crinkle, tears gathering on your waterline. "sweet, mama. Doin' so good, taking this cock." Your eyes roll, and he drags himself along the silky heat of your walls, before plunging back in. "Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? This what you needed?" The word daddy almost slips, almost falls out like- 'is this what you wanted, for daddy to take care of you? Is this what you needed, for daddy to take you home and take care of this pussy- but he holds it in, reels in back just in time for you to nod as answer to his voiced question, and he pulls his hand away, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. "Tell me."

"Yeah, oh- Simon, yes-" you pant, a little squeaky, tear rolling down your cheek. You saying his name like this, with him so full inside you, fills him with fire, roaring heat racing through his muscles, and he grinds his hips against yours, making you groan, bucking against him when he finds your clit and glides his thumb across it, over and over.

"Do you wan' be my good girl?" He asks, pumping harder, pushing you the limit, and you cry out against his hand, nodding frantically, which he rewards with a smile, and another swipe across your clit. "Come for me. Let go sweetheart, I'm right here." He coos, still swirling your swollen bud in a circle, your legs practically steel around him, eyes brimming with tears. He'll take care of you. He'll give you everything. He'll never let you go, he swears, he swears, he swears... he doesn't stop, just keeps going relentlessly, fucking you as deep as he can as you come around his cock, exploding like a bomb, silently screaming into his palm. He's following you over the cliff of your orgasm a second later, nose pressed to your cheek, whispering insanity into your skin, half praying you won't be able to make sense of it. Whispers and vows of love, and protection, of care, promises and secrets, until the two of you are limp against one another, basking in the glow and heat of your bodies.

He closes his eyes for a moment. Just for a second, just to take a deep breath, preparing to pull out, to move on to what's next, cleaning you up, getting you in a bath or a shower, making sure you're comfortable, you're cared for, you're cherished as you ought to be. He closes his eyes, and it's just long enough for him to feel the shaking of your chest under his. Just long enough to hear the sniffle, the hiccup, his eyes opening in confusion, concern, cradling your face between his palms. "Sweetheart? What's wrong, what is it?" Panic stirs in his gut, and when you don't answer, his mouth goes dry, fear dousing him in a cold sweat. "Did I... did I hurt you?" When the only answer is the sound of your sobs, fat tears that stream down your cheeks, his heart cracks wide open in his chest.

Maybe he could very well die in this moment. But not from happiness. From agony.

#lmao #peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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