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avidfics · 4 months

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College!ellie headcanons

summary: your brother throws a college party without your knowledge at your apartment; ellie, a few years younger; sees you and is immediately pent up and tries to get into your good graces

a/n: first time writing for ellie but wanted to give it a try

warnings: uptight older reader, ellie is a kiss-up just to get some action; no action actually happens; suggestive; teasing; poor ellie just wants action

-college!ellie wanted you the first time she saw you at your younger brother’s college party at your apartment. He often complained about how his place was too far away from campus so sometimes he’d crash at your place. Tonight, he’d taken it a step too far and invited everyone he knew for an impromptu hang out at your apartment.

-college!ellie had heard your brother complain about his older sister, who he obviously adored, and said you were a total nightmare. ellie had her share of drama from the countless girls she slept with on campus and didn’t need to experience another.

-college!ellie was taken back when you stormed into your apartment, hunting for your brother. Her eyes raked you over you from head to toe taking in your lounge attire of form-fitting leggings that hugged your thighs and ass so deliciously she almost let out an audible “fuck” slip from her mouth. It took actual strength to not openly stare at your breasts that were only covered in a sports bra and instead tear her eyes away to look at your face. The way you marched over to your brother in the dimly lit kitchen, completely obvious to ellie who leaned against the counter top, and took charge of the situation with laser focus and a sharp tongue. It was turning her the fuck on and making her uncomfortably wet.

-college!ellie steps out of the shadows, sick of you not noticing her, a slow smile glides across her mouth as she makes it super apparent that she’s checking you out.

-college!ellie maneuvers herself to stand in front of your brother to introduce herself. Which causes your rant to stumble a bit as you take in the lanky, girl in gray sweats and black jean jacket with sleeves bunched up corded arms. Her eyes were slightly glazed but her apparent high didn’t hinder her from tracking every tiny detail of your annoyed, pretty, perfect face.

-college!ellie only functioning brain cell is short-circuiting as she tries to figure out how to get her best friend’s older sister into an empty bed to fuck the irritation out of you in the shortest amount of time. She does all her usual moves that usually get her laid. Casual touches along your arm, crowding into your personal space, throwing hella compliments your way but all her moves left you unfazed, eyebrow raised, and more snappy than when she began. Fuck you were cute.

-college!ellie decides to switch tactics. She turns the tables on your brother, admonishing him for throwing a party without your permission. Your brother's mouth gaps at the complete switch-up of his best friend. But ellie doesn’t just stop there. With gentle, slightly calloused, hands she guides you out the kitchen by the elbow. “Come on, princess. Let’s get these fuckers out of your place.”

-All the pent up anger depletes from your body as ellie takes charge throwing her fellow classmates out of your place with a swiftness that leaves you oddly pleased. “Haven’t you idiots heard of coasters? Wipe that shit up and if there’s a stain I swear to god I’ll fuck you up.”

-college!ellie held your body close to hers as you both did a sweep throughout the whole place, swearing it was so you didn’t get lost (in your own apartment smh), and kept finding a mundane reason to whisper trivial things into your ears. “Let’s check the john for any strays.” In a narrow hallway she’d possessively grip your hips from behind to “make sure you don't trip.” Or when a pushy group of guys head out to leave, you’d find yourself pushed up against your entry, looking into ellie’s eyes as she blocks you in, away from the crowd. Ducking her head into the base of your neck, “How do you smell so good.” she groaned while pressing her determined leg between your quivering, thinly clothed thighs.

-college!ellie knew you saw past her “responsible guest” act but a small part of you had given in at some point of the late night as she took charge and handled you even as you acted uptight and snippy.

-college!ellie close the door on the last of the partygoers, including your brother. Out of your earshot she said to your brother. “Yo, you gonna congratulate me?” “Huh?” “We're gonna be in-laws pretty soon.” with a sly wink she shuts the door on his stunned face even as he curses her through the door.

-college!ellie settles down into your couch, clicking on the tv and taking a drag on her forgotten blunt. The door to the bathroom opens and you emerge in only a towel and a questioning look as to why the younger woman had the audacity to still be in your apartment. In response, ellie takes a lung pull of her blunt and manspreads her legs, getting even more comfortable. With a little chuckle you leave ellie on her own while you continue into your bedroom.

-college!ellie hears your cell start to ring on the couch cushion. When a caller ID named “blind date” flashes across the screen ellie answers the phone without a second thought. Cutting the guy off midway through him asking for a second date. “Nah, dude you got the wrong number. Go ahead and lose it. Ain’t no single ladies live here.” ellie still planned on getting between your sweet thighs and decided she didn’t like the idea of sharing.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams hcs #ellie headcanons #ellie x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic

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beskarandblasters · 3 months

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New York or Nowhere

Part six: It Was Always New York or Nowhere

Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader

New York or Nowhere Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: We’ve reached the end for these two 🤍

Chapter summary: Joel breaks some terrible news at your apartment. A few weeks later, you reconnect at Beldro’s.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, angst, friend breakup, talks of Sarah’s death, dub con (reader has consumed alcohol), oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sugar, sweetheart), praising, daddy kink, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

It’s been hours since you called Joel and told him the news. You knew he just couldn’t just close up the store in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. So you resigned to comb the streets of Brooklyn by yourself, searching for Ellie but to no avail. When you finally get back to your apartment, you slump down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Dozing off, your dreams are filled with Ellie, where she could be, and how scared she probably is. She’s never left Joel’s store up until coming to your apartment. She’s either lost somewhere or… and you don’t want to think about this but… she could have crossed paths with the wrong person. Before your dream can delve into that further, a knock wakes you up.

Groggily rising from the couch and opening the door, you find Joel. He doesn’t look angry or worried but instead like he’s about to deliver some bad news.

He holds up his hand and speaks first, saying, “Ellie’s fine. She found her way back to the store.”

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. The guilt of the situation is still eating away at you but at least you can rest knowing she’s safe.

“But there’s something else I wanna talk to you about, sugar.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want to come in?”

“S’Alright. This’ll be quick.”

“Okay…”

“I think we need to slow down, sugar.”

“Slow down?”

“We’ve been movin’ too fast.”

“Oh… Alright.” His words hurt but somewhere deep down inside you, you know he’s right. It’s barely been two weeks since you first walked into his store.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t try again in the future, sugar. I just can’t right now.”

“Right…” you say, looking at the floor, “Let me get you her carrier.”

You turn and walk back into your apartment, blinking back tears. You grab Ellie’s carrier and hand it back to Joel. He takes it in his hand but grabs your chin with the other. Looking into your eyes before kissing you one last time.

“Bye, for now, sweetheart,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.

You close the door and immediately head to your bedroom, collapsing on the bed and trying your hardest not to sob over a man you’ve known for such a short time. But it was probably for the best, right?

The next morning you wake up with puffy eyes and a pounding headache. You replay yesterday’s events in your head, everything from the way Joel woke you up, getting ready for brunch, getting drunk, realizing Ellie was missing, calling Joel, and him letting you down gently in your doorway. You think about the window being open, how long it was left open… who opened it in the first place.

Jessica.

She wouldn’t do that on purpose, would she? But after all the shit she’s pulled lately, you wouldn’t put in past her.

Following your hunch, you pick up your phone, calling her as you get ready for work.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, I just had a random question,” you say.

“...Okay?” she says, already getting annoyed.

“Why’d you open that window yesterday?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You don’t remember anything?”

“We got pretty fucked up yesterday,” she says defensively.

“Are you just deflecting?” you press.

“Nope,” she snaps.

“Mhm, I’m sure.”

“Are we done here?”

This is pointless. She’s never going to admit to opening the window on purpose. And you’re pretty sure arguing with her is costing you brain cells.

“You know what? I think we’re done here. You’ve been nothing but shitty to me and I’m tired of being your friend.”

“Are you fucking for real?” she scoffs.

“Yup. I am,” you say, hanging up the phone and flopping down on the bed. At least that’s over with. But you also don’t feel like seeing her at work so you pick up your phone and call out. Today’s a self-care day.

Four weeks later

It's been a few weeks since you last saw Joel at your apartment. You’ve avoided Beldro’s like the plague since then and neither one of you has called each other. You’re not sure when you’re supposed to pick back up with him, if at all. He said he wanted to slow down, not that he was done with you forever. He also never specified if you could see other people or not. You haven’t been anyway but what about him? Has he been fucking other women over the counter?

Probably not, the rational part of you says. But the anxious side of you tries to convince you that yes, he is fucking other women at his store.

Whatever, nothing you can do about it either way.

It’s a regular Wednesday morning. You’re heading to the subway stop by your apartment, about to make your morning commute. After swiping your metro card and passing through the turnstiles, you wait for the train.

Once it arrives you glance through the windows before it slows to a stop, not too crowded. You keep your head low and avoid looking at others like you normally would when you take the subway anyway. But once you sit down and look at what’s across from you, you see him; Joel with Ellie’s carrier. He’s looking directly at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand up.

“Hi,” you respond.

“Going to work?” he asks.

“Mhm. What about you? Where are you off to?”

“The vet. Getting Ellie microchipped.”

“Probably a good idea,” you chuckle.

The conversation falls flat, with both of you avoiding eye contact with each other. But for some reason, now feels like the time to ask him the question you’ve been secretly thinking about this whole time.

Why did he move to New York? He’s clearly not from here.

“Joel? Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you come here?”

“Like why did I move here?”

“Yeah.”

“Moved here once my daughter, Sarah, passed. She was fourteen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel.”

You had no idea. He never mentioned her.

“S’alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“But why here? Why New York?”

“It was always New York or nowhere, sugar,” he says with a smile.

The train comes to a stop and he rises from the bench,

“Well, this is our stop. See you around, sweetheart,” he says with a wave.

He steps off the train, looking back at you one more time before walking out of the subway station. You think about what he said. It was always New York or nowhere. You have to agree with him.

Two weeks later

You’re at a bar with Charlotte and Nathaniel. The night is coming to an end but before you all decide to go home, you decide you need a little treat. Drunkenly stumbling out of the bar, you start to make the journey to the nearest bodega. Which, of course, has to be Beldro’s. As the green awnings come into view, Charlotte asks, “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else.”

“I’m fine, Char. We’re pretty much there already. I’ll be fine.”

She nods, letting you lead the way to Beldro’s. The bell on the door jingles as the three of you pile inside. Joel glances up from his… iPhone?! When did that happen?!

“Look who upgraded,” you tease.

“Good to see you, sugar,” he says, “And you two as well,” he adds, glancing at Charlotte and Nathaniel.

You stay at the counter as they grab their snacks, eyeing Joel up and down, taking note of how good he looks.

“How have you been? Noticed you’re down one,” he says, referring to Jessica.

“Yeah… We’re not really friends anymore,” you respond.

“Good for you. She seemed mean,” he says.

“She was,” you chuckle, “How have you been?”

Just as you ask, you feel Ellie circling your feet beneath you. You bend down to pick her up, holding her as you talk to Joel.

“I’ve been alright,” he says.

The small talk is… okay. But you really wish he was bending you over that counter again. Charlotte and Nathaniel return with their purchases but Joel doesn’t charge them.

“Someone’s feeling generous tonight,” you joke, setting Ellie back down on the floor.

“You gotta be sometimes,” he says, shooting you a wink.

Charlotte and Nathaniel bid him their thank you’s before leaving, waiting for you outside.

“Bye, Joel,” you say, walking to the door.

“See you around, sugar,” he says.

You take one final look at him before meeting your friends outside.

“You okay?” Charlotte asks.

“You know what? I am,” you say.

Just as the three of you start to walk away, you hear the door open followed by Joel’s voice saying, “Wait up!”

You turn around to find him hastily locking the door and heading over to you.

“Can I talk to you?” he says.

“You guys can go. You don’t have to wait for me,” you tell your friends.

“You sure?” Nathaniel asks.

“She’s sure,” Charlotte says smirking at you before waving goodbye and grabbing Nathaniel’s arm, leading him down the street.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot, sugar,” he says, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and… I’d like to try again… if you’ll still have me,” he says nervously.

You close the gap between you two and kiss him, something you’ve missed doing for weeks on end now. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. The kiss grows needier, more passionate by the second, evidence of how much you two missed each other.

“Come with me,” he says, abruptly pulling away and grabbing your hand. He leads you a couple of feet over to the cellar doors on the sidewalk. He unlocks them and opens them, gesturing for you to walk down the steps.

“You’re taking me to your basement? Never beating the creep allegations, are you?” you tease.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get in there,” he says, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.

You head down the basement steps, with Joel following behind you. He closes the doors and reaches for the light switch. The light flickers a few times before turning but it doesn’t do much to provide actual light. His hands are immediately on your body, palming your thighs and groping you over your dress. You let out a small gasp as his hand moves to your underwear, pulling the fabric back and snapping it against your skin.

“Get these off, sugar,” he says, sliding your underwear down your legs. He bends down and picks them up, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands immediately grab your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the stairs.

“Bend over for me,” he softly commands.

You do as you’re told, bending over and placing your hands on one of the steps. You feel him kneel behind you, pulling up your dress and hooking his hands around your thighs. He kisses the back of your thigh before bringing his face to your cunt, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent before dragging his tongue along your entrance. Your knees buckle underneath you as he eats you out, tongue swirling expertly around your clit. Your body shivers as the muscles in your core tense up in anticipation of release. You cum with his face taut against your cunt, his basement filled with the sounds of your mangled moans and whimpers.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing the back of your thigh again, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

He rises from the floor, giving your ass a squeeze with one hand while the other pulls his cock out of his pants. He rubs the head of his cock, against your sensitive cunt, teasing you as he talks to you.

“Stay just like this. You’re doing such a good job for daddy,” he purrs, pulling his cock away to gather your release on his hand. He spreads it on his cock before hooking his hands on your hips. He pushes into you slowly, cursing under his breath as he fully sheaths him inside you.

“Fuck, sugar. I missed this,” he says, drawing his hips back slowly and slamming into you.

A whimper escapes your lips, growing louder and incessant as he fucks you harder, reaching forward and grabbing you by the throat. He pulls you upright against him, never dropping the pace of his thrusts.

“That’s right. Take daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he says.

You’re unable to form a complete sentence, letting out nothing but a string of cries, whimpers, and moans. Your walls tense up in preparation for your orgasm. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes, your thoughts filled with nothing but Joel and his cock pounding into you.

“Gonna cum for me, sugar? Let me feel it,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening. You cum for a second time, feeling your release spill out of you, soaking his cock and running down your thighs.

“Fuck,” he curses, coming inside you with the head of his cock buried deep inside you. The pace of his thrusts grows sloppier as he fucks you through your release and his. But once he feels himself go soft, he pulls out of you and pulls you close against him, kissing the nape of your neck.

“I missed this. I missed you,” he admits.

“I missed you, too. So much for taking things slow,” you chuckle.

“Fuck going slow. It’s for the birds,” he says, absentmindedly kissing your neck up to your ear.

“So you want to try again?” you ask.

“Was that clear enough?” he laughs.

“Shut up, old man,” you laugh, “When did you get an iPhone by the way?”

“Last week. Thought of you when I got it. Figured you’d give me shit for it.”

“Give you shit for it?? I’m overjoyed I can actually text you now,” you tease.

“Text me all you want,” he says, kissing your neck one last time before letting you go, “Let’s get out of here, though.”

“Where to?”

“Your place, if you’ll still have me. I’ll bring Ellie.”

“You know I could never say no to her, Joel,” you say, walking up the steps back to the sidewalk. Joel locks the door and lets you back inside the store, scooping Ellie into her carrier before locking up again.

You back to your apartment hand in hand, feeling like all is right for once– down a shitty friend and back with your man (and his cat) by your side.

@pedrostories

#new york or nowhere #bodega joel #bodega owner!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller pedro pascal

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george-weasleys-girl · 10 months

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Heyy, could you write something where the reader is jealous? You can choose if you want to write about Fred or George

Thank you for your request! This is a long one. It really took on a life of its own. I hope you like it.

~•~

George x Fem Reader

~•~

George’s laughter carried across the store, bringing a smile to your face. You turned to see what had delighted him so much and immediately regretted it. Your heart plummeted, and sullen glower replaced your smile as you watched him chat with the bouncy, vapid woman who'd started coming into the shop at least once a week, making a beeline straight to George every time. She obviously had a thing for him, and from the looks of it, he was developing a thing for her.

You just couldn't understand why George would be even remotely attracted to her. Sure, she was pretty, but she was also dumb as a stump. You'd talked to her a few times and were convinced she had a maximum of two brain cells bouncing around in her skull, one of which was solely responsible for keeping her alive.

You looked back up to see George, smiling wide, enraptured by whatever nonsense she was babbling as she twirled her precious little curls around her index finger.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you went back to stocking the Canary Creams, slamming them down on the display, startling the elderly lady perusing the shelf next to you.

"Sorry, ma'am," you apologized. "Rough day." The woman huffed and shook her head before scurrying off to the other side of the store.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging in defeat. You knew you had no right to be jealous. George was your boss, not your boyfriend. He could flirt with whoever the hell he wants. If your heart got broken in the process, it was your own damn fault for falling for him.

~•~

George watched as you tidied up a display of Fainting Fancies. When he hired you two years ago, he was exhausted and frazzled and was looking for people who could learn the ropes quickly and help out in the newly reopened shop until Fred recovered from the spinal injury he'd gotten during the Battle of Hogwarts.

In no time, you were all but running the store, allowing him to spend more time with his twin. He was eternally grateful, but it wasn't until around six months later that he saw you as anything more than a valued employee.

At that point, Fred had started working for a couple of hours a day. But he was still fragile, and one afternoon, he lost his balance and fell. You did two things that day that endeared you to George forever. While he ran to help Fred, you somehow managed to keep both the customers and other employees away from the area, saving Fred from the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on the floor.

Then, after spending several hours at the hospital, followed by the difficult task of getting a very stubborn and very grumpy Fred settled into bed, George wanted nothing more than to just fall flat on his face in bed, or on the couch or even the floor. All three sounded equally appealing. But he couldn't. Fred needed to eat, and he probably should, too.

He'd just decided to use magic to whip up some chicken fingers and french fries when someone knocked on the door, causing a confused look to cross his face. It couldn't be one of the employees. The shop had long since closed, and everybody had gone home. And he knew it wouldn't be his mum. Fred had made him promise not to tell the family he'd fallen. He didn't want them "worrying over nothing."

George opened up the door to find you standing there with a huge bowl of spaghetti and some freshly baked garlic bread. "Hey," you said a little shyly. "I figured you'd probably be exhausted when you got home, so I thought I'd make dinner for you and Fred. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" A massive smile replaced the confusion on George's face. "No, I don't mind at all, come in!" He opened the door wider. "You are an absolute angel for doing this. How did you know we were home?"

"I didn't," you replied. "But I still have the flat key you gave me, so I could check in on Fred when you got wrapped up with customers. I thought I'd just leave it on the counter with a spell cast to keep it nice and hot."

For a moment, George looked like he might cry, but then he smiled again. "Would you like to join us for dinner? Well, really me. Fred will take his dinner in bed."

"Well, I've already eaten," you said, watching his face fall. "But I can never turn down a slice of garlic bread."

"Ok, great!" He replied. "Just let me get Fred set up."

You smiled. "Shall I get him a plate together?"

"Thank you! That would be wonderful," George said as he hurried into Fred's bedroom.

That was the night George Weasley fell in love with you.

~•~

You managed to make it through the rest of the morning without breaking down. By the time your lunch break rolled around, you had reigned your emotions back under control.

You sat outside on the little patio behind the shop, nibbling on your sandwich and mulling over the situation. You'd never intended to fall in love with George. In fact, you'd never intended to work at the joke shop at all. You'd taken the job out of sheer desperation.

While at Hogwarts, you discovered you had a knack for healing, and since you didn't have a clue what you wanted to do after graduation, training as a healer seemed just as good as anything else. As it turned out, you grew to love the work, and for a while, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

And then the war happened.

You didn't know if it was because you weren't cut out for the raw intensity of being a healer or if it was watching helplessly as people you knew and loved died all around you. Either way, the war broke you.

The very thought of continuing on as healer sent you into paralyzing panic attacks. So, you packed up and moved in with your muggle sister. For the first few months, you carried your weight by doing all the cleaning and cooking and taking on any other chores that needed doing.

It worked well for a while, but your sister didn't have a great paying job, and it soon became evident that you'd need to pitch in financially. You'd hoped to find something in the magical world, but the prospects weren't promising. Most of the business owners had taken to the hills after the return of Voldemort. And, though they were now returning, many of them barely had the means left to restart their business, never mind hiring on help.

The outlook was so bleak that you were beginning to think that working in the muggle world was your only option. Then, one morning, you spied a Help Wanted ad in the Daily Prophet. Within a week, you were working at the infamous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Then, within a couple of months, you'd become George's right-hand woman, taking on the lion's share of running the shop so he could take care of Fred.

Soon after, George found out you had healing experience and started asking you for advice. Eventually, you were going upstairs to help. More often than not, it was to convince Fred to do something. Or not do something.

"He won't listen to me," George would say. "Maybe he'll listen to you."

That's when your feelings for George began to develop. During those early days, watching him care for his brother with such patience and gentleness, even when Fred was at his worst, won you over.

"I don't need your fucking help!" Fred would yell.

"I know," George would calmly say, "but the healers said you could reverse some of your progress if you try to stand on your own right now. You don't want to end up back in the hospital, do you?"

"No," Fred would huff.

"Good. Now, put your arm around my shoulders so we can get you in your wheelchair."

And now, here you were. Madly in love with a man who'd never feel the same. Who was now falling in love with someone you were certain didn't deserve him or could make him happy. You rolled your eyes. So much for keeping your emotions in check. You balled up what was left of your sandwich and hurled it into the nearby waste bin and then preceded to stomp from one end of the patio to the other, your hands balled into tight fists, until your break was over.

~•~

"Mate, I know you like her," Fred spoke as he and George finished up some paperwork in the office.

"I more than like her, Freddie, but I'm her boss for Godric's sake. I can't just start dating an employee."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?" George stared at his twin. "For one, it's unprofessional, and two, what if it doesn't work out? It would make everything weird."

Fred sighed. "You have a limited time to ask her out. She might quit or meet someone else, and then where will you be?"

George remained silent for a long while, chewing on his thumbnail. "Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Of course I'm right," Fred smirked. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Yeah," George half-grinned. "I'm gonna ask her out."

~•~

You'd finished up with your closing duties and headed upstairs to see if George or Fred needed you to do anything else before you left.

Their office door was open, just a crack. You lifted your hand to knock when you heard Fred's cheeky voice. "Of course I'm right. So are you gonna do it?"

"Yeah," George answered. "I'm gonna ask her out."

It was if someone had punched you in the gut. George was going to ask Miss Vapid out. You clamped your mouth over your hand to cover the sob that fell from your lips unbidden and backed away from the door as quietly as possible. As soon as you were out of earshot, you turned and fled the shop.

~•~

"Did she just leave?" George made one more turn around the store. "Without saying anything?"

"That's not like her," Fred said.

"No. It isn't," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I hope everything's alright."

~•~

You barely slept that night, and when you did, your dreams were plagued with images of George laughing with his soon to be girlfriend, holding her hand, kissing her. You'd wake up in tears, followed by another hour of tossing and turning, before dozing back off and starting the whole vicious cycle over again.

When the sun finally crested the horizon, you drug yourself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Luckily, today was your day off, and you fully intended to start it off right. With a glass of wine or two or maybe ten. You were exhausted, sore, and heartsick, and you just didn't want to feel anymore.

You'd just finished off your second glass when someone knocked on the door. You rolled your eyes. Who the hell is here, ruining my perfectly good pity party at... you looked down at your watch, the fucking ass-crack of dawn?

~•~

George spent the night pacing from one end of the apartment to the other.

Why would you just leave like that?

Were you feeling ill?

Or did something happen yesterday?

Did he or Fred say something stupid and hurt your feelings?

Why didn't you just come and talk to him if that was the case?

He'd almost sent you an owl at least 782 times last night, but chickened out every time. And of course, today was your day off. So that meant he'd spend the next twenty-four hours worrying himself sick over you.

"George, have you slept at all?" Fred shuffled out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No."

Fred sighed and went to put on a pot of coffee. "Why don't you just go and talk to her?"

"Don't you think that'd be a bit weird. Me, her boss, showing up on her doorstep at 7am, wondering why she left work without saying goodbye."

"At this point, Georgie, who the fuck cares? You're going to make yourself physically ill if you don't find out what's going on."

George rubbed a hand over his face. "Ok. Yeah. You're right. But I need about a gallon of coffee first."

Fred opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a thermos. "Take it with you, mate."

~•~

You swung the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of your mind, and froze when you saw George standing there. He looked exactly like you felt. Good thing he's not flying anywhere, your tipsy self thought briefly. He'd have to check in the bags under his eyes before they'd let him on the plane.

"Why are you here?" The words came out sharper than you intended it, causing George to take a step back.

"I, um, I was worried about you," he fumbled. "You left without saying goodbye yesterday."

"You're here at seven in the morning because I didn't say goodbye?"

"Well, yeah... that's not like you. At all. I was worried something had happened yesterday."

Worried something had happened yesterday? You almost laughed in his face. "Come on in," you said. "I'm gonna need another glass of wine for this one. Want one?"

George followed you into the living room. "Love...why are you drinking? How much have you had?"

You shrugged and upended your glass and then wiped your mouth on your sleeve. "Why do you care? I can do what I want in my free time. You're just my boss. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything."

He visibly flinched at the last comment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I really am worried. Something happened yesterday. Please tell me what it was. I want to help."

This time, you did laugh. "You really wanna know what happened yesterday? I realized that I'm a fucking idiot. That's what happened yesterday."

"I - I don't understand," George searched her eyes for any clues.

"No, of course you wouldn't. And it's not your fault. Not really. And I shouldn't be angry with you, but I am," you rambled. "It's my own fault for being stupid. And I'm gonna keep being stupid as long as I'm working there. So, yeah, I'm giving you my two week notice."

"What?! How we go from you saying you're stupid to you quitting?"

"It doesn't matter." You reached for the wine bottle, but George grabbed it first and moved it out of your reach.

"Hey!" You tried to grab it back, but he stood, took it to the kitchen, and emptied the rest of it into the sink.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because you're done with it," George tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "And we're going to work through whatever the fuck this is."

You sighed. "There's nothing to work through. I'm quitting, and that's that."

"No." George said simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not letting you quit."

"As if you have a choice in the matter," you said. "Why do you care anyway? You'll find someone to replace me easily enough. Probably someone who's better than me."

"No," George repeated. "No one can replace you. There's no one better than you."

You shook your head and stood, turning away from him. "Not even your new girlfriend," you muttered under your breath.

"My new girl - what are you talking about?"

Shit. You didn't mean for him to hear that.

"What new girlfriend?" He asked again.

Something about the way he said it, with such shock and indignation, as if he had no idea what you were talking about, set you off, and you rounded on him. "Mindy or Wendy or whatever the fuck her name is!"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment, and then realization hit. "You mean Cindy? Cindy Fletcher? Why in Godric's name would I want to date her?"

"I don't know," you threw your hands in the air. "You tell me. You were all up in her face yesterday, hanging on to her every word."

"She was telling me about her muggle cousins new invention, and it sounded really cool and - " George paused. "Wait, why do you care so much who I talk to?"

"I - I don't," you stammered. "Just forget it. Just forget I said anything at all."

"Are you - jealous?"

You turned your back to him again. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You are, aren't you?" There was surprise in his voice and something else you couldn't quite place.

He moved to stand before you. "Do you," he hesitated for a moment. "Like me? Like as more than just your boss or your friend?"

The tears you'd been fighting to hold back poured down your cheeks. There was no denying it now. "Yes, I like you! Ok? I more than like you. But you're my boss - "

George pulled you into his arms, silencing you with a kiss. Your first instinct to anyone kissing you unexpectedly was to push them away. But then it dawned on you what was happening. Did George like you back? Apparently so, otherwise he wouldn't be kissing you right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

~•~

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," George confessed. You were cuddled on the sofa, refusing to let go of one another.

"Me too," you smiled. "Why did you never say anything?"

George shrugged. "I'm your boss. It would've been inappropriate. And what if things didn't work out? Talk about awkward. Us trying to work together."

"Hm," you nodded. "So does that mean I should still quit?"

"If it means I can keep kissing you like that, I'll fire you right now."

You giggled. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Good," he said. "The place would fall apart without you."

"Pfft, don't be silly," you scoffed.

George pulled back a little so he could look at your face. "I'm not. I'm being dead serious. The shop would fall apart without you. And so would I."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out were the words you'd been holding back for so long. "I love you, George Weasley."

His smile melted your heart. "I love you, too," he said and pulled you in for another kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley headcannon #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #hp universe #hp fandom

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

Text

One Piece Men Driving (you around)

monster trio

A/N: I don't know a lot about Kid but I thought I'd give a shot anyway :I I'm really sorry if he's OOC

LAW

Would make a great get away driver honestly, like he genuinely has a great understanding of driving/the road and hardly ever gets lost and he knows you think that's hot

He drives SO FAST like WHERE ARE YOU GOING??? This man actively considers the speed limit a challenge

For that reason he's either always early or on time to pick you up...but somehow suspiciously late getting you home 😉

8/10 times he's in charge of the music, it depends on your taste and his mood honestly. If you don't have the same music taste, he'll grin and bear it because he loves you, really you're torturing this man

Yeah he drives really fast but never in a school zone or neighborhood, he takes that really seriously

Acts like it's a big pain to drive you around but secretly loves it and always claims he was headed that way even if he wasn't

Loves late night drives with you that end in some empty parking lot to talk for hours or make out or both

The two of your are menaces to late night convenience store clerks

Loves holding your hand or keeping a hand on your thigh while driving

Keeps his car pretty clean except for all the coffee cups and energy drink cans on the floor in the backseat that he thinks you don't notice

KID

His car > you sorry not sorry

Drives a loud, obnoxious hot rod

Drives like a MANIAC and LOVES IT. Fuck it we ball, if y'all die then y'all die. This man is not afraid to take a risk and you know that

That being said he'd probably never put you in real danger

"Oh look, y/n there's some kids riding their bikes. LET'S HIT 'EM!!" does not actually hit the kids but definitely keeps a point score in his head as if he did. "You know I just missed 40 points for you, tricycles are worth more."

Doesn't let you drive it but thinks you look totally hot behind the wheel

Gets there when he gets there, babe, but wherever you're going you're going in style

Genuinely loves blasting the music when he's near you so you know he's on the way

The best part of driving with him is being obnoxiously loud and wild and free together

Acts like he's gonna crash just to mess with you a little

Drag races for sure

Secretly prefers your company over everyone else's while tinkering with the car y'all have definitely fucked on top of it like he just likes having you in presence while he works, it kind of puts him at peace

There's definitely some kind of detail that's an homage to you and any sort of decoration you buy that he can put in his car he will

ACE

I'm so serious DO NOT distract this man

It takes every last brain cell he has not to fuck up

Like when he's alone he's fine, but as soon as another person's in the car with him he gets so distracted especially with you

He can't help it he's just so happy to see you and talk to you and look at you and whoops! There was the exit he was supposed to take

He's either picking you up a half an hour early or twenty minutes late there's no in between

Y'all share the music but he can listen to just about anything just don't put on anything boring

You already know the deal, if y'all end up going out to eat you're driving home because he's absolutely asleep

Definitely prefers back roads and intentionally takes the "long way" so he can spend more time with you

Of course there's a 50/50 chance y'all are gonna get real lost anyway so either way he's spending more time with you

Gets really embarrassed anytime he fucks up so don't backseat drive because it'll only make it worse

King of Normalize Hitting the Curb™️

Loves a good snack run

#law x reader #trafalgar law #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #portgas d ace #ace x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #ngl Ace is just me because he's so ADHD coded #and by menaces to store clerks i don't mean rude #you and law are just loud and ridiculous for whatever ungodly hour it is

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

Text

We Got A Lovin' Thing - s.h. | e.m.

Summary: Eddie, as it turns out, is the only one with a brain cell among the three of you. (Or: the time you didn't know you were all dating).

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: fluff, idiocy, jealousy, misunderstandings, me attempting to write the "didn't know they were dating" trope.

dividers by s-tarksintern

"You don't have to."

The tickets had barely entered your hand before Eddie was making excuses. He shoved a handful of curls behind his ear. You tutted, swatting his hand because that was exactly what made them frizz. He hesitantly released the curls, twisting his rings around his fingers instead.

"Of course we'll go," Steve said. "We wanna support you. Right, Y/N?"

You nodded eagerly. "That's right. Dustin's told us all about your sick guitar riffs. Obviously, I need to hear them for myself."

"I mean, you know if Dustin's hyped, it's gonna be bitchin'."

You grinned at Steve. He mirrored you. All of the tension slipped out of Eddie. He lost an inch in height from posturing for rejection. Which didn't make sense. Steve would certainly never reject Eddie like that. Maybe Eddie just really wanted you to go.

"I know it's not really your guys' thing," Eddie said. "Which is why I didn't wanna pressure you. And I know we're taking it slow, so…"

"I don't think you need to take introducing us to your metalheads that slow, Munson," Steve snorted. "We can handle it."

"Steve should wear your vest," you suggested, wiggling your brows.

"Me? No, no, you'd wear it way better than me," insisted Steve.

"How 'bout," Eddie said, shrugging off said vest. "The prince takes the vest and the fair maiden gets my bandana. As a token of gratitude."

Your heart fluttered as Eddie gently wrapped the fabric around your forehead. You helped him tie it in the back, his fingers brushing yours. The bandana was soft and smelled like his cologne, patterned with multicolored skulls.

"Sure we're metal enough for you and your crew?" you asked, trying to push down the butterflies in your belly.

Eddie grinned. "Without a doubt. Better than Ozzy."

"I think Steve should throw it back to eighty-six and show off the sternum bush," you said, playfully poking his chest. "That bare chest was the highlight of my year, Harrington."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve snarked. "Take a picture."

"Oh no, I wouldn't wanna make anybody jealous," you laughed.

"Jealous? Never!" Steve cast dramatically. "Eddie knows my adoring fans mean nothing to me!"

"Imagine my relief," Eddie said, draping an arm over you, then Steve. "Can't have anybody looking at my guy. Or my girl."

You squirmed under his arm, sliding out of his grip as smoothly as possible.

"Um, yeah. Well, I don't think you'll have to worry. You steal the show every time, Eds."

"Sweetheart, you've gotta wait till I actually start playing before you gas me up," Eddie grinned.

You shoved his arm, attempting vainly to mask your nerves.

"No gas! It’ll be great."

You left Eddie’s room, heading out the front door. Steve followed you down the steps.

“Show starts at eight!” Eddie called after you.

“We’ll be there, superstar,” you said, giving a thumbs up. “Dress pretty—Steve’s not easily impressed.”

“Hilarious,” Steve snarked. “Maybe you can follow his act with some of those jokes.”

You stuck out your tongue and got into the passenger side of his 733i.

“Isn’t Eddie giving you a ride?” he asked, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Why would Eddie give me a ride? Doesn’t he have a rehearsal?”

Steve shrugged. “How would I know? He’d tell you before me.”

“What? No way. You’d be the first to know. You’re the one who brought up Corroded Coffin.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve never been to a show,” Steve said, pulling out of the trailer park.

“You haven’t?”

“No. When would I have gone?”

“I mean… anytime, really,” you frowned. “I thought Eddie would’ve invited you by now.”

Steve gave you an incredulous look. “Me?”

“Yes?” you scoffed. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“Why are you?” Steve shot back.

“I’m not…” you trailed off.

He remained quiet, so you dropped the subject. You rested your head against the seat and watched Steve from the corner of your eye. Eddie was lucky. Nancy had been too. You’d always thought so.

The metal infinity ring was on Steve’s right middle finger. You were there when Eddie gave it to him. Eddie had given you a ring too, days before that. For a moment, you’d hoped and wondered. Wondered if maybe Eddie felt the same as you did.

You wore yours on a thin chain around your neck. That was how pathetic you were—if it was a ring from Eddie Munson, you’d wear it close to your heart, even when it was painfully obvious yours meant something different from Steve’s.

“Wanna stop by BK before I drop you?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” you smiled softly. “Thanks, Steve.”

He nodded, mirroring your smile. His veins were stark lines against his skin. You stared unabashedly at how his hands curled around the steering wheel. How could anybody blame Eddie? You’d give Steve pretty rings too.

Steve ordered your regular at the Burger King drive-though. You reclined in the seat.

“Should’ve brought Eddie something,” you said, eyes closed.

“He likes BK?”

“His stomach is a bottomless pit. He’ll literally eat anything.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Gross, Steve!” you scoffed, thwacking his arm. “Don’t be a perv.”

He cackled as he pulled up to the next drive-through window. The girl at the window took the money, then leaned in while waiting for the food.

“Hi,” she said, fluttering her lashes.

“Hey,” Steve nodded. “How are you?”

“Good. Want extra sauce?”

“I do!” you interrupted, sticking your head next to Steve’s.

She shot you a dirty look. You wiggled your fingers in a wave.

“Can I get extra sauce? Or does he only get extra sauce?”

Her face twisted into a mix of jealousy and disgust. She shoved the bag through the window, then slammed the screen closed. You burst into giggles as Steve drove off.

“Was that really necessary?” he sighed, passing you the food.

“What? Not like you’re interested. She’s not your type.”

“I—my type?”

“Yeah?”

You shoveled a few fries in your mouth.

“And what exactly is my type, Y/N?”

“Not her,” you sniffed. Not me, either.

“That’s specific.”

“I know. My mysterious feminine wiles are irresistible.”

“Ah, yes. What drew Eddie to you in the first place,” Steve agreed.

He didn’t mean anything by it. That didn’t stop the ache.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shoving more fries into your mouth. “Right.”

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, slowing down in front of your house.

"See you then," you confirmed, closing the door.

"Wear somethin' nice for Eddie," Steve teased.

"You first!"

You watched him drive off, dejectedly chomping down on a chicken strip. Oh God. What were you doing?

The club was loud. You’d tried to dress a little closer to the demographic but you weren’t sure you’d accomplished such a thing. Still, it was better than Steve, who looked like he’d just gotten a callback for Grease.

“Dude, what the hell are you wearing?”

“This is cool!” he insisted.

“Tell me about it, stud.”

“You wore overalls to a metal concert and you wanna make fun of me?”

“I look cute,” you announced. “And there’s no denying you do too, Steve, but jeez. What happened to wearing Eddie’s vest?”

“It’s under the jacket,” he said, unzipping the black leather jacket. “Did you just call me cute?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, T-Bird.”

“How many Grease references are you gonna make?” he huffed.

“How long is the performance?”

“I’m telling Eddie on you,” Steve warned as you found your seats.

“Ooh, I’m really sca—”

A pair of hardcore fans knocked into you. You stumbled, nearly falling over a chair. But Steve was quick to catch you by your arm.

“Whoa, you okay? Assholes!” he fumed, holding your waist.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, hyper aware of Steve’s hands on you. “People are just excited. C’mon, let’s get close to the stage.”

The warmth from Steve’s hands slipped away. You felt dirty for missing it.

The emcee made a brief introduction and got a few claps. You and Steve both cheered when he announced Corroded Coffin.

“Go, Eds!” you whooped, clapping obnoxiously. “C’mon, Steve, show a little enthusiasm. That’s your guy up there.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. Then he stuck his pinkies into his mouth, whistling loudly. You squealed in laughter, nudging his side. Steve grinned back, accepting your head on his shoulder.

“Whoa! Hidden talent, Harrington! That from your jock days?”

“Yes, actually. The pool gets loud and I had to get my team’s attention somehow.”

“Coach Steve, huh? No wonder you’re so bossy with the kids.”

“I’m bossy so none of those jerkwads get eaten by faceless monsters. There’s a difference.”

“Yes, dear,” you said seriously, patting his hand. “And you parent them so well.”

“You know what—”

“Shh!” you hushed. “Show’s starting!”

The lights dimmed. Eddie came out first, then the rest of the band. He stepped up to the mic.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?”

“Wooo!” you cheered in reply.

“Let’s go, Eddie!” added Steve.

Eddie found you immediately, grinning widely.

“Glad you guys are excited,” he continued, eyes never leaving you and Steve. “I see some pretty faces in the crowd. Hope you enjoy.”

The set was energetic, bass vibrating through your body. You and Steve took your cues from the sparse audience, headbanging and air-guitaring through the whole show. He took off the jacket after the first song, leaving him in Eddie’s vest and a white tank. You tried not to stare.

The most important thing was that Eddie had fun. Regardless of your feelings, you and Steve were there to be supportive. Steve and Eddie had never changed how they treated you. There was no reason you couldn’t act the same.

Your chain jumped when you did, jangling against your chest. When you strayed too far from your seat towards the end of the set, Steve took your hand, steering you back so you wouldn’t get lost among the drunks. He didn’t let go until the music finished.

“Thank you! We are Corroded Coffin, good night!”

The band disappeared backstage. You and Steve were the first ones to the stage entrance, which was really just a ragged, faux velvet curtain. Gareth and Jeff chatted among themselves. A few girls had also come in—mostly to fawn over Eddie.

“Hiiii, Eddie!” giggled one, a little tipsy. “You played a great show!”

“Thanks, ladies,” Eddie replied politely, easily slipping through the gaggle of girls.

He made a beeline for you and Steve, guitar still strapped across his back. He pulled you both into a sweaty hug, still on a performance high. Eddie’s freshly shaven cheek slid against yours. Your heart did a swan dive to your shoes.

“You guys made it!”

“Of course we did,” you said. “We wouldn’t miss your show for anything. Steve’s dedicated.”

“So I see,” Eddie grinned, giving Steve a onceover. “Looking good, Greased Lightning.”

“That’s it. I’m never wearing leather again,” Steve huffed, tucking his jacket under his arm.

“No no, it’s hot! Swear it. Tell ‘im, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “His head’s already big enough, Eds.”

“See how mean she is to me?” Steve whined.

“Poor baby,” Eddie cooed, patting Steve’s neck. “What were we thinking, pledging our love to her?”

You turned your head, throat tightening. Neither one seemed to notice.

“You should make it up to me,” decided Steve. “I accept pizza.”

“Pizza it is,” Eddie said, taking off his guitar. “Lemme just pack up my stuff and we’ll head back to the shire. Just us, promise. Sound good?”

Eddie goaded Steve ahead, arm around his back. You hung behind them, that pang in your chest returning.

“Hey,” Eddie said, turning. “Where’d you go? C’mere.”

“Huh?”

“You’re all the way back there,” he laughed. “Here.”

They slowed for a beat so you caught up. Then Eddie tugged you to his other side, arm hanging over your shoulders. You couldn’t even fight him. Eddie was always tactile and once you became friends, all sense of personal space was thrown out the window. It felt good, even if it was temporary.

You rode back in the van. It was rowdy but Eddie thankfully dropped off the rest of his band early in the drive.

“So which pizzeria? Fredo’s or Mikey’s?”

“Fredo’s!” you said.

“Mikey’s!” Steve voted.

You gasped in horror. “Mikey’s? They give you approximately three drops of sauce. It’s like eating cardboard with cheese.”

“Mikey’s way better than Fredo’s. Mikey’s doesn’t have sixteen health violations, for one.”

“Everyone knows that was a story the paper cooked up because Fredo wouldn’t sell to Kline,” you scoffed. “Open your eyes, Steven.”

“Fine, we’ll have Eddie decide.”

You both turned expectantly to Eddie, who glanced at you in the rearview mirror.

“Oh. Uh, well, I really don’t have a preference…”

“No, no. You’ve gotta choose, Eds,” you said. “Steve has apparently decided to go insane.”

“Me? You’re eating rat droppings, Y/N.”

“You are such a freakazoid, Steve, what the hell—”

“Guys! Okay, okay, how ‘bout this: Y/N chooses the pizza and Steve, you can choose what movie we watch. Deal?”

You tilted your head at Steve. He crossed his arms.

“Fine. But I know you’re biased, Munson.”

“Am not! I’m totally impartial.”

“If he was biased, he’d side with you,” you said.

“Uh, no, he’d totally side with you,” Steve scoffed. “But, y’know, I guess if I were in his shoes I’d side with you too.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Steve was sliding open the door to the van and climbing out. After a minute, you did the same, taking Eddie’s proffered hand.

“Hey. You know he’s not really mad, right?” he murmured, squeezing your hand.

“I know,” you smiled. “I wasn’t worried. Were you?”

“No, no. Just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

You smiled confusedly. “Um, okay. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t, like, get in between you two or anything.”

Eddie looked appalled by that. “I know you wouldn’t, baby. I love you both, you know that.”

“I—” You swallowed, overwhelmed. “Oh. I l-love you too, Eds.”

Eddie beamed and kissed your knuckles. You felt your face grow hot.

“I’m going inside,” you rushed out, scurrying up the steps.

You slammed the door shut behind you, letting out a slow breath. What was that?! Were you tripping or had Eddie been flirting with you?

“Hey—”

“Ahh!”

You jumped, startled. Steve froze, brows to his hairline.

“Uh,” he began. “You good?”

“Yeah, s-sorry. I’m fine. What’s up?”

“I was gonna order the pizza, what toppings did you—”

“I’ll do it!” you said, snatching the phone and shooing him out of the kitchen. “Go pick a movie. I’ll order.”

“No mushrooms,” Steve reminded as you herded him out. “And Eddie is allergic to—”

“Olives, yeah, I know, Steve. This isn’t the first time we’ve had pizza together.”

“Dunno why you’re so snappy when we have to eat sewer pizza,” he mumbled.

You ignored him, returning to the phone. Wayne had most of the takeout numbers posted near the phone, so it was easy to dial.

“Hello, pickup or delivery?”

“Hi, delivery. Can I get two large pies. One with pepperoni and…”

“Get some mozzarella sticks too,” Eddie said, walking into the kitchen. “My treat.”

“It’s actually my treat,” came Steve’s voice from the living room.

You rolled your eyes. “And one order of mozzarella sticks. On the other pie can we get peppers and white sauce?” You gave the address.

“Twenty minutes,” said the delivery person.

“Okay, thanks,” you replied. “Twenty minutes, guys!”

“‘Kay, I’m gonna shower, baby. Don’t let Steve put on a crappy movie.”

Then, gentle as he could be, Eddie lightly took your chin in hand and kissed the corner of your mouth.

You freaked.

“Hey!” you shouted, slamming the phone back on the receiver. “Hey, what the fuck was that?!”

Eddie’s eyes were wide. “What was what?”

“You kissed me! What the hell, Eddie? Steve is ten feet away from us!”

“I know…” he started weakly. “What does that have to do—”

“You know?” you screeched. “You know? What the fuck does that mean? Oh, fuck this. Steve, come ‘ere!”

“Jesus, what’s with all the yelling, Y/N? Did you get into Eddie’s stash?” Steve groaned, rising from the VCR.

You pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie.

“He kissed me.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly. “Was it a bad kiss or something?”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary to ask,” Eddie huffed.

“Steve!” you frowned, waving your hands. “Why are you not upset about this?”

“Well, because I figured you guys would’ve kissed a lot by now? You’re together after all.”

“What? Eddie and I aren’t together! That doesn’t even make sense. You’re his boyfriend.”

“Me?” Steve balked. “I—what?”

“Yeah-huh, you guys have been dating since Eddie gave you that ring.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “We have not.”

“Have too!”

“You guys have been dating since Eddie came back from the Upside Down,” Steve said. “Remember, you had that heartfelt reunion, you cried in his arms, et cetera.”

“You two are so in love with each other it’s not funny,” you argued, stomping your foot. “You’re always flirting and cracking jokes and talking about how handsome you are.”

“Well, yeah, but I flirt with you too!” Steve cried.

That stopped you in your tracks.

“You… what?”

“Wow, okay,” Eddie interrupted, rubbing his face. “Okay, alright. Wow. Uh, so here’s the thing. I actually thought we’ve all been dating for about a month now, but, turns out I’m an even bigger dumbass than I thought.”

Steve looked like you’d just asked him to do calculus. You weren’t faring much better.

“Now, that can’t be right,” said Steve.

Eddie’s hands fluttered. “I gave you guys rings! And I said how I, y’know, really cared about you both.”

“Right, you said you cared about Y/N as more than a friend and that if I was okay with it, you wanted us to spend more time together and get to know each other… oh.”

Steve glanced at you, grimacing.

“Whoops,” you said.

“Big whoops,” he agreed.

Eddie sighed, twisting his rings round and round. “It’s cool. I guess I should’ve said something earlier, made it clear. I understand if you two don’t wanna do that. It was… hasty to assume that from you, especially both—”

“Eds, Eddie,” you cut him off. “Honey, I’m like, really in love with both of you. I was losing my mind with jealousy every time we hung out.”

He brightened. “Really?”

“Okay, you don’t have to sound so excited,” you giggled.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, having the decency to look chastened. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m just—God, you don’t know how happy that makes me. That is—I mean, Steve?”

“I—” Steve looked shellshocked. “You like me? Both of you?”

“A little more like love, actually,” Eddie grinned.

“Yes, Steve, it would seem that in spite of you dressing like one of The Outsiders, we are both head over heels for you.”

“Well, I’m in love with you too, Y/N. Even after you’ve helped Pa bring in the harvest.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna get it, Harrington. Confessing your love won’t stop me and my overalls from waging war!”

You sprung forward, fully intending to tackle Steve. However, you sorely underestimated his jock phase and ended up landing on the ground instead, Steve hovering over you.

“Get her!” he ordered and then there were two pairs of hands tickling you.

“That’s not f-fair, it’s two against o-one!” you squealed between peals of laughter. “You were supposed to be my a-ally, Eds!”

Eddie relented after a moment, collapsing on the floor and pulling you to the side. He locked you in a deep kiss: a proper one. You slung an arm around his neck, playing with some of his curls. Kissing him was better than you could’ve imagined. Eddie surrounded you, holding your face.

Steve had taken mercy as well, fitted into your other side. And as soon as Eddie let go of you, he swooped in. Steve kissed differently from Eddie, preferring to hold onto your hip instead, thumb drawing circles. He gasped into your mouth, teeth just barely catching your lip. You made a soft noise as he pulled away, drunk on both of them.

Finally, Eddie surged up to meet Steve in a kiss. They were a little rougher with each other, wrestling around as they hummed into each other. But eventually, they settled with Eddie on his back next to you. You watched happily, curling up next to him. Steve let go after a couple seconds, rolling onto Eddie’s other side.

“You know, you wanna talk about healthcode violations, this carpet would not pass any sort of inspection if its life depended on it.”

You cackled as Steve whined, scrambling onto the couch.

“Oh, come on!” he huffed. “That’s disgusting, man.”

“Kidding!” Eddie laughed. “I’m kidding, promise. C’mon, come down. You still have to choose a movie.”

“Yeah, and it has to be a good one ‘cause this is our first movie as a throuple,” you added.

“Great, thanks. No pressure.”

“No, full pressure,” Eddie corrected. “But don’t worry, man. We forgive your taste in movies. The leather is doing it for me.”

“Plus, you have a cute butt,” you said.

“That too,” Eddie nodded solemnly. “The cutest.”

“It’s perky.”

“Firm.”

“A prize-winning rump.”

“Can it, dorks,” Steve shushed. “Movie’s starting.”

Frankie Valli’s voice suddenly filled the room. You and Eddie burst into uncontrollable giggles that only worsened when Steve jumped up and began to sing along.

“Grease is the word, is the word that you heard!” he sang, a little pitchy on the high notes but otherwise very decent. “It’s got groove, it’s got meaning!”

And this time, when Eddie got up to goof along, there were no pangs in your chest. You watched on, feeling nothing but love.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #steddie x you #steddie x reader #steddie x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #fluff #didn't know they were dating

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long-life-to-bsd · 10 months

Text

It's too hot!

Pairings: kunikida, ranpo, dazai, fyodor × female reader

Warnings: nothing particular, maybe a bit suggestive

Summary: how is life with your boyfriend when it's too hot to breathe outside

I'm definitely not writing this because I'm dead for how hot it is where I live.

KUNIKIDA

I don't think he suffers that much and he if does he doesn’t complain

Will not wear something different just because outside is hot enough to boil water

Buy he's not silly and he will take care of himself and his girlfriend

He will make sure you are hydrated and that you are wearing sunscreen if you go outside

Will warn you about your outfit: black may suit you buy it's not a good idea

Talking about clothes: he thinks you look amazing in a sundress (very very obsessed with your silhouette)

Hat is mandatory if you go out

So yea, he is going to be very serious about you safety outside, very serious. He may even act like the teacher he is and scold you if do not take you health seriously.

He will put a lot of effort in convincing you to go to a park to spend there the afternoon: guess what? It's actually not that bad

Also at home he's very caring: would prepare something fresh, suggest a shower, cutting fresh fruit to eat as a snack...

RANPO

He is already super lazy so I think that summer weather kills him

Literally, would even think about letting those criminals free just for the weather

Super sleepy and sweaty (sorry)

But he will try to cook something on the street to see if those videos online are true

If you are looking for him you know he is going to be somewhere with AC

You are the one taking care of him

Ice-cream, a lot of Ice-cream.

Pretty disappointed that all his chocolate melted

Also disappointed that his favourite outfit is super unpractical

Public pools are a must. You will spend hours there: he may even consider working there (defeating criminals and seeing you in a bikini? Sounds good to him)

DAZAI

Wouldn't even noticed that the world is on fire

You can beg him to take of his coat but he will never listen to you

Obviously he doesn't care but his health so he would almost faint every time he goes out

If he sees you suffering he will suggest the only reasonable thing in this world

To take off your clothes 😏😏 and to take a cold shower together

He will literally ask you to take of your clothes multiple times a day

Big fan of summer outfits: we all know why 🙄

You both look out for each others. He doesn't care about himself at all, but he doesn't like seeing you like that.

Would take you to places with AC to spend the afternoon: the mall will become your date spot

You two would always have Ice-cream at home, but may prefer to drink something on the rocks (which is not brilliant guys)

FYODOR

If he could he would turn off the sun: not for you but for himself

This little Russian man is not used to hot weather

Very sweet: he looks like a wet rat, not scary at all. He may try to look scary and powerful buy he's out of breath (which considering how unhealthy he already is, it's not a surprise)

Lost all his intellectual abilities, 0 brain cells working: and he would hate that so much.

Will find every possible excuse for that, he may even say that his plan is acting dumb (and is also your plan to be that sweaty, Fyodor?)

That why he would go underground or contribute to the global warming putting AC everywhere he goes

And you are going with him. Not that he doesn’t like seeing you suffering, but you are not pretty all sweaty

He will decide how you dress (obv) and he's going to find out he's a big fan of hot weather

He will make sure that you always have something cold to drink though

But will not allow you to drink it to fast, it's dangerous (be careful)

Or he will make sure you have some refreshing snacks, anything you like

While he doesn’t care particularly about his health he will make sure his pet beautiful girlfriend is doing good and following the safety guidelines: be ready to be treated like a five years old

If there is no AC he will hire someone to be a living fan. May even look in the entire world just to find the right ability user.

If no one is available and he's getting all sweaty, I'm sorry, but I feel like it's your job

#bsd #bsd headcanons #kunikida #bsd kunikida #kunikida headcanons #kunikida x reader #dazai #bsd dazai #dazai headcanons #dazai × reader #ranpo #bsd ranpo #ranpo × reader #ranpo headcanons #bsd fyodor #fyodor headcanons #fyodor × reader #fyodor

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imagine-shenanigans · 10 months

Text

hey guys i haven't even had a chance to see atsv yet i just know spoilers and i want this man biblically, i'm talking carnally, i want him in a way that hurts feminism, i want to bring the whole damn movement down so i can be his stupid little housewife and raise his damn kids so i can watch him be happy and then also get railed into losing every brain cell i have

anyway here's some abo headcanons, they include spoilers for the movie/his backstory probably because idk what is and isnt a spoiler because i havent seen it yet.

also this one works a bit differently than my normal layout, it goes SFW and then dips NSFW and ends with more SFW but they're all clearly labeled!

Reader is written gender neutral with they/them and the nsfw section has afab and amab sections, but since I'm Nonbinary and AFAB that's probably how it's gonna come off for most of the reading, just to warn you!

Miguel O'Hara x Reader N/SFW ABO Headcanons

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k words

Content Warnings (tell me if I miss any): Dubcon, ABO, Obsessive Behavior, Toxic behavior, Omega reader, Alpha Miguel

For these headcanons we're gonna exist in a weird liminal space where Gabi is like, five to six or so and he brought her home with him or some shit idk man I just think he's a hot single father anwyay, also this is assuming omega reader because i think it's hot

if anyone wants a version where Miguel follows more canon and he still lost his kid and came back you're free to request that too i love that shit, just for this specific one i wanna raise his damn kids so-

SFW

Alpha, big alpha energies.

Miguel is the type of guy who's pretty obsessive with what he claims as his, I would honestly say borderline yandere vibes without fully delving into it - his mental state in this au/situation is also a lot better since he still has his daughter, so he's genuinely a lot less "feral" than he tends to get without her, even though in this we'll say he did almost lose her.

So when he claims someone, he's going to be damn sure he means it.

This ones a bit of a general headcanon but he doesn't really have a type when it comes to the people he likes, other than he needs someone who's interesting to him. Whether it's because you're hotheaded, or even keeled, whether you're snarky or sweet, he just needs something for his brain to latch onto.

Not a love at first sight guy but he is an "obsession I can't place" kind of guy.

Miguel has really enhanced senses when it comes to scenting, so it takes some damn strong suppressants and scent blockers to completely block him out... which if we're pretending reader here is falling with the abo trope of "hiding being an omega" (which we are because I love tropes) is just what gets him obsessed. Clothing and perfume that masks your scent, suppressants and scent blockers, and a confident attitude are all enough to throw most people off the (forgive my pun) scent.

But not Miguel.

His spider DNA has the animalistic side to it that fucks with his hormones regardless, makes it easier for him to pick up on the pheromones that even most attentive alphas can't, he's damn near a personal lie detector with how smart he is and how attuned he is to what his nose and instincts tell him, even when he's using serums to keep the more feral urges at bay.

He can only get a whiff of you, fainter than most betas, and it drives him fucking insane knowing he can smell something but he can't figure it out. He can't place it, and it nags at his brain. He can smell a whiff of flowers, or sugar, or something undeniably citrus (depending on what you headcanon your own smell to be) but he can't place it and he hates that shit.

Ends up pulling some traditional alpha shit and he can't even help it, starts trying to crowd you until you kick him in the shin or Peter B or Jess shoos him away. He has to figure out what it is, he has to know.

It only gets worse when he brings Gabi in (a babysitter fell through) and you end up butting your way in to play with Gabi and Mayday, delighting in watching them for the day instead of whatever you were supposed to be doing. They're both so cute and sweet.

Gabi smells primarily like cinnamon and a bit like dewey grass - she's not old enough to have presented yet, but her basic scent, unaffected by the secondary gender hormones, is simple and sweet, reminds you of a summer morning.

She takes after her father in that regard - Miguel smells *warm* and a bit musky, like trees and cinnamon and, a bit like a camp fire. A small tinge of oil, when you pick it apart, and you can't tell if its from the lingering scent on his skin after fixing a broken machine nobody else could, or if that's part of his natural scent.

(Mayday smells like marshmallows, and carmel, funnily enough)

When you take care of Gabi and Mayday, your scent lingers on their skin, mixes and twists in a way that Peter B can't notice but Miguel can. It's all he can do not to be a damn freak and pick his baby girl up and sniff her hair to try and figure out why she smells like that (not in a creepy way, to clarify because there are some freaks on here, but in the same way a dog gets baffled by smelling you use a new perfume, or in the way of when you pick your kid up and go "WHY DO I SMELL CANDLES ON YOU WHAT WERE YOU DOING")

He almost can't stand how his head swims when he watches you pick Gabi up and gently throw her up in the air a bit, watching you let her climb onto you while you're distracted just like Mayday does. Soothe her tears when she accidentally breaks a toy because she's still learning to control her super strength.

He doesn't know that he wants you either, not until long after he's already manifested feelings. Doesn't realize how protective he is, doesn't realize how differently he treats you. He doesn't realize he's lingering in your area just long enough to make sure he can fill his nose with the faint scent you give off.

He assumes you're a beta - not that it mattered to him, really. Miguel would just as soon marry another alpha as he would a beta or an omega, as long as it's you.

He doesn't realize what he's doing until he's got a piece of your clothing in his hands, holding it in the dead of night up to his nose. A scarf or a glove or a jacket you'd leant to Gabi during the day and she'd spilled her juice on it and he'd taken it home to wash it.

He can smell his daughter's scent, louder than life, so familiar he could have a handful of pepper thrown at him and he'd still be able to wrap his arms around her and move her out of harm's way in the direst of straits.

And then there's yours, linger, mingling with his daughter's scent, and it's the parent of his child.

It's not, it's not the woman who birthed Gabi, it's not the woman who contributed to making her. It's you, the only other person he ever wants near his child in that capacity. And it's intoxicating. It's infuriating. It's overwhelming because the full breadth of his own emotions is so strong as he realizes what he's been doing. And he can't even tell you because he holds himself to a specific standard, a specific code of ethics, and even though he wants to risk it all just so his hindbrain (both alpha and spider and his own human instincts all mingling in one) can have his little loves all wrapped up in his arms, safe where he can protect them.

He only just has the strength to wash the piece of cloth and return it. It takes everything he has not to cling to it, to make a pretty little nest to protect his family in, webs and pillows and fabric, a basis of protection so you can properly make it your own and -

He controls himself, and returns the scarf the next day, leaving it on your desk because he can't bear to look you in the eyes.

The days struggle by, a stark contrast to his normal snark, to lingering in your space and snorting and rolling his eyes. To being by your side more than he normally is. It's disheartening, it makes you feel rejected, and he knows it.

But he doesn't stop, this tension that can cut through the air lingering. Even Gabi and May notice it, the older girl frowning and the younger fussing when the two of you are in the room together.

And then your heat happens.

(brief bullet point break because there's a limit to how much you can have in one bulleted section on tumblr and I don't remember what it is but I'd rather just break here)

You've been on suppressants and scent blockers for years now. Being in your line of work (whether you headcanon this as a spiderperson version of you, or a different kind of superhero, or a civillian all working in the society) it's necessary. Omegas aren't rare but they're not the majority of the population like betas are. In Nueva York, it's a coin toss if you'll be fought over in the streets like some prize to be won, or if you'll be coddled like a child who can't figure out what's best for them.

It's half safety half preference at this point, from your original universe's standard (before it had burnt to cinders before you), and this one's. Your suit, your meds, and your behavior, they're all meant to mask and confuse.

But you can only make it so long on the prescription you've got, the long-lasting shots that were more reliable than a pill. The scent blockers go first - not by design, but by chance. You'd been giving yourself lower doses since you'd wound up in Nueva York, supplementing it with deodorants and lotions swiped from stores and hospitals that could afford to spare the supplies when you can't buy it covertly. But you'd still been low in comparison to your suppressants.

You shower more frequently, lather yourself with soaps and deodorants and lotions of different scents and ones that have blocking effects, and for the most part it works. You can't quite fool Gabi - too smart, too tuned in to your emotions like her father could be. She's got a sharp nose, and she wrinkles it when she can smell how confusing your scent is. She asks questions, and you can't lie your way out of it, but you are able to bribe her so she's distracted long enough that she forgets the question. Miguel notices, when he picks up Gabi, but he can't quite figure out exactly what's wrong, and you leave so fast (he assumes with the tension that lingers between the two of you) that he can't figure it out.

You're so certain you're in the clear.

But then your shots run out, and even you can't get more without a prescription. And while your health information would never go through Miguel, you know that the medispiders have to go through him or Lyla for any heavy duty things like suppressants, because they have to be resourced more carefully.

And your last doctor, although wildly shady, and incompetent, and operating out of an apartment, was right about one thing - suppressants will rot you from the inside out if you're not careful. If you don't let a natural heat occur, it will only be worse in the long run. (Although you suppose he probably had a greasier, grosser reason for telling you that.)

And rot you from the inside they have - all your natural reactions to a heat, all your normal bodily functions don't work properly, when confronted with something they haven't seen in years. You know within seconds of your suppressants flushing out of your system what's going on. You're still in the pre-heat phase of things, and you feel like you're dying. You aren't, and you know you aren't, but you feel nauseous and feverish and incoherent within an hour tops. Only long enough to let you panic and send a text to Miguel that you can't watch Gabi like you'd planned. That you're going out ad you won't be back awhile. You leave your phone in your room, when you pack your bag and head for the nearest somewhat reputable hotel that you can afford. You brace the door with the dresser, explicit instructions left for the front desk to, under no circumstances, contact you for the next week.

You get an order of pre-made meals to slap into the fridge, water and juice and all sorts of drinks and things shoved haphazardly inside once the bot brings it in through the window. You're barely coherent enough to retain control to crush the landline, rendering it inoperable, before you barricade the rest of the room.

You're definitely not in control when you nest, blankets and pillows and clothing all thrown haphazardly around as you go fully out of your gourd.

You're damn well out of your mind by the time you would have normally realized the card you were using was in Miguel's name.

(another very brief line break in this portion for drama but also so I don't hit any limits)

Miguel is pissed when you leave so suddenly.

Sure, he's been avoiding you, and sure, you aren't actually together, but you're his damn it. You don't know it, and sure, he's not going to acknowledge it out loud until something happens, but you can't just leave him and your child and his child who loves you high and dry like that!

It's laughably easy to find you, to find the hotel you've checked into. He doesn't even wait to figure out the reason you left, he's so quick on his honestly kinda toxic bs.

Gabi is left with Peter B and Jess for a bit, and Miguel is honestly so smug that he finds you so fast. You were so sloppy about it. So quick to leave that even though you left your phone behind, in a moment of clarity, you barely bothered to take back streets. You used his own damn card he'd given you to pay for the hotel for two weeks, and to order food.

If he weren't half out of his mind with concern and anger about how quickly you left, he'd be angry you used the card without asking like you normally did.

(His hind brain purrs with it though, knowing he's provided for you)

He doesn't know what did it. Miguel genuinely doesn't know what he did to earn your ire in such a way, but he can guess. He doesn't think it's how cold he was, in the beginning, but he isn't sure that it's not how he'd warmed up to you. How, when he'd let his guard down without realizing it, that he'd flirted with you. Had that made you uncomfortable? Had every 'innocent' brush against you turned you against him? Certainly, it could be his absence, his sudden coolness and stonewalling. It could be how he refused to look at you, when you were in the room. Tried to hold his breath after he'd realized what he was doing.

He doesn't really listen to Lyla when she tries telling him things. He heard where you where, found out the room, and swiped a key before Lyla could finish talking about vital signs and behaviors. She knows to set his alerts to emergency only for the foreseeable future, because she's figured it out much quicker than he has, and she figures she'll at least spare herself the trouble. Gets Gabi set up with Jess for the night, and is on her way so she doesn't have to deal with what's about to go down.

He's surprised by the dresser in front of the door, when he tries to get in the first time. It's easy for him to move - he just lowers his center of gravity and pushes his way into the room, slamming the door shut before he can inhale.

The hotel room is nice, with a kitchenette and a small entry area with a couch and a television. The bedroom is just tucked out of sight. Exactly what he expected when he'd heard the hotel's name - he'd never been, but he recognized it.

And it's when he inhales, that he realizes why.

Your scent hits him hard and fast, chokingly sweet in the back of his throat in a way that makes his hindbrain roar. His pupils blow wide, and if he didn't have such a strong self control, he'd have torn the damn door off its hinges looking for you.

He remembers, in that moment, why he recognized the hotel. It was one that was best known for its handling of customers in heat and rut.

NSFW INTERLUDE

(We're gonna start with general headcanons and go back into the specifics of the scenario in a sec but it's all relevant fjasdkl;)

Miguel is a Dom-leaning switch, he prefers to be in control as often as possible, regardless of whether he's topping or bottoming. Nine times out of ten, he wants to fuck his partner until they're an incoherent, babbling mess, because he enjoys the power and control it gives him, enjoys the dynamic of it.

As he gets more comfortable with a partner, he's more willing to accept the idea of subbing, enjoying it more when he has someone he trusts behind the wheel, so to speak.

(Because yes, Alphas can be subs too - that's a whole thing I could get into and might if someone asks)

And Miguel, even normally, is already a possessive guy. He's needy, and stakes his claim, and when we're talking about abo Miguel?

Sheeeeeesh

The moment he scents you in the air, the moment it clicks in his brain that you're going through a rut or a heat, it goes straight to his dick.

He damn near loses it, fighting not to tear the door off its hinges as he stalks to your room. Your scent is so strong in the air that even though he knows he should turn around, he still at the very least wants to make sure you're okay. So the sight of you, face down, ass up, fingers pressing into yourself, he almost loses his damn mind.

His pretty little wife/husband/spouse coworker, his crush, is an omega. It's almost too good to be true, and he can feel his fucking fangs extend, his mouth watering as he stares at you. You're too blissed out to even realize he's there, slick dripping down your thighs like a fucking faucet... and his name is on your lips.

He could cum untouched, could die a happy, happy man after seeing this.

He has dignity, and self control though, even as the force of your hit heats him. He's genuinely concerned, a moment later, his instinct to breed to claim tampered down by his need to care.

You cling to him, hazy, feverish, and incoherent. You beg him to claim you, to mark you, to fuck you. Miguel wants to, he does... but he instead kicks his shoes off but otherwise stays fully clothed, his cock so hard it hurts as he grabs the closest bottle of water, and an ice pack, and climbs into your haphazard nest with you. He probably should have left by now, but instead he seats you against him, your back pressed to his chest, and he presses the ice pack to your forehead, ordering you to keep it there as he makes you drink water, sip by sip.

You whine, and beg, and squirm, but you obey.

He fucks you on his fingers, once he's gotten some water into you. Hard and fast, leaving you breathless, tense, until you cum all over his fingers, oversensitive as he fingerfucks you into another one, and another, arms like steel wrapped around your waist as one hand pounds into you, the other wrapped around your dick or circling hard on your clit. It's not enough to genuinely sate your heat, but it's enough to help. And he doesn't trust himself to put his own mouth to use - barely trusts himself to speak, even though most of what he growls into your ear is, strictly speaking, complete and utter nonsense as he's caught in the moment. Every time you cum, he praises you, telling you how good you are for it. How sweet you look, with tears streaming down your face, cumming so well for him.

When there's enough coherency for you to have a conversation (but not coherent enough to be mortified), Miguel is able to get the rough gist of the situation. He really can only piece together that the heat is going to be a strong one, that it came fast, and that you had panicked. There's a confession, to be had there. He agrees to help you through your heat, but only under the condition that you're his.

It's toxic, and of dubious consent at best, but he'll pull as many orgasms out of you as needed to keep you coherent enough to talk to him. He's helped an omega through a heat or two, and he knows what he's doing. He's not exactly clearheaded himself, in making the decision - but he does make sure that this is truly what you want before he proceeds.

When he's sure that it's not just the heat speaking, that you truly do care for him, that you want him to stay even after your heat has subsided, he allows himself to indulge.

Sympathy ruts are common, and it builds slowly inside of him as he indulges in his instincts. Holding you, kissing you, pressing his fingers inside of you over and over and over again until you pass out. He keeps you wrapped up in the nest, adding his shirt to the mix while you sleep, but not trusting himself to completely strip quite yet.

Miguel is an attentive alpha.

(While you sleep, he excuses himself from the nest to call his daughter, to assure her everything will be okay, and he just explains simply that you'd gotten sick, that you needed him for a bit, and that he'd be back once you were feeling better. He promises to call every night, and he works out a schedule with Peter B and Jess in the meantime.)

(When you overhear him, voice so soft, so protective, so gentle, it half makes you want to swoon, and half want to climb on his lap and fuck yourself stupid on his cock until he fills you up so you can give his daughter a sibling.)

This man is going to spend a good majority of his time pre-sympathy rut fucking you open on his fingers and his mouth. He wants to make sure you're ready, wants to make sure he can enjoy this for as long as possible.

By the end of it, he makes sure to fuck you, nice and steady, a hand on your throat and his lips on yours. He makes sure you're nice and coherent for it. He wants to make sure you remember it, when he claims you. When his (fucking horse cock, the dude's packing like ten to twelve inches which is great for my chubby bitches like me) dick fills you up so full that you're almost certain you'll break, hiccupping and sobbing as you keen and wail, the nest below you soaked as he fills you up. His fangs sink into your neck and you cum, right then, his hands grabbing your thighs so hard he's sure it will bruise. He fucks you through your orgasm, knot catching until it slips inside. He rubs your clit/tugs on your dick as he finally knots you, making sure you cum just one more time for me, cariño.

normal Miguel definitely has a claiming and breeding kink, so it's fucking intensified by ten when he's omegaverse Miguel... let alone when the man's subject to his rut. You'll be covered in scratches and bites and hickies by the time you're both coherent enough to function properly again.

Which... for Miguel, is a solid few hours of coherency at a time.

For you? You're only ever coherent in short bursts, and it's like the peak of your heat constantly for almost the full week.

This next bit just mostly borders on nsfw/has some nsfw parts so i'll put it at the end here before going back to sfw

Like I mentioned before, Miguel is a very attentive alpha.

He's going to fuck you seven different ways in an hour with his superhuman stamina, but he's also going to make sure to actually take care of you.

He makes sure you drink electrolytes and water in equal measure, makes sure you eat, and sleep, and he bathes you himself, carrying you into the shower and keeping you pressed against him as he massages your muscles and washes your hair and body with a soft cloth, using completely unscented soaps and shampoos so it doesn't overwhelm you. Presses bandages to your scrapes and bites so you'll heal faster. Cool cloths and ice packs and fever reducing medicine.

He finds he has to bribe you, during this time, even for the most basic tasks like eating and drinking, and he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having to plug you up with his cock just to get you to eat wasn't hot as hell. The fact that you need him so badly you'd rather forgo basic necessities... it's addicting. Granted, he doesn't actually let you - he's got enough control that he can make sure you're taken care of in all regards.

Back to SFW time!

After your heat itself passes, you're subject to the suppressant sickness that comes with it. Your fever has broken, but you're still nauseous and dizzy and fatigued as your body flushes everything out of your system.

Miguel is beyond pissed when he finds out why you're still sick.

It's reckless to not even have a natural heat once every six months, let alone taking your suppressants so solidly that you hadn't had one in years. If he'd known, he'd have said consequences be damned and would have bitten you the moment he walked through the door, and taken you to the hospital.

He doesn't care how embarrassed you are, when he packs all of your things back up into the sealable bags, and dresses you in his own clothing. He's almost out of his mind when he takes both of you back to HQ - only just remembering to take back corridors to the medic so they can check you over properly.

You've then got two spider people who are pissed, as the medic rants about how dangerous that was, how stupid it was that you did that, instead of just swallowing your pride and letting them help you control things. They order you on house arrest for a full month, to make sure your body can recover properly. No suppressants, no scent blockers (at least the medical kind) for a couple years, and only medicine that's medically necessary, and even then it has to be monitored more carefully.

Miguel lets the Medispider tear you a new one for a moment while he steps into the hallway, giving you privacy and space to figure things out with the doctor while he catches up with Gabi.

When you're done with the Medispider, it's not a question on if you're staying with Miguel or not - you really don't have a choice in the matter, he tells you. When you're recovered, you can decide if you want to move in or not, but until then he was going to personally keep an eye on you.

Gabi, who lacks the complete understanding of the why and the how behind it all, is just glad that the person they've been trying to scheme their father into confessing to is actually going to live with them. (Even if only for about a month.) She grins smugly when she realizes you smell like her dad.

Miguel lets you have pick of the house, when he carries you back to his beautiful, cozy suburban home. He leaves the proper tour up to Gabi, as he carries you both, letting Gabi tell you about everything excitedly. You stay in his bed (you two had claimed each other, and although Miguel does give you the option of your own room... you'd rather die than lose the comfort that comes with being around your mate.)

Miguel cooks properly for you while you stay with him and Gabi.

No more prepackaged meals, he sneers, instead making you chicken noodle soup from scratch, with bone broth and lots of vegetables. Breakfast every morning before he takes Gabi to school, tucks you in to sleep while he pops into the HQ to check on things. He's out of commission from missions while he cares for you, but he still makes sure things go smoothly. He's home by lunch, sometimes bringing you fast food instead of cooking so you can have your fill of a greasy burger or fries or something to sate the part of you that needs something unhealthy and indulgent. Holds you in his lap while you both eat, watching TV on the couch.

He finishes his work and goes on emergency-only mode when it's time to pick up Gabi from school. He tucks you into the passenger seat if you feel up to it, buckling you up himself and pressing a kiss to your lips, even though he doesn't need to. He knows you can buckle yourself up, and lets you do so when you insist, but it makes him happy to know he's taking measures to keep you safe.

He does force you to take a blanket with you, just in case though.

When all three of you get home, he makes dinner, sometimes with Gabi helping him, sometimes you, sometimes just himself. He has a pretty wide range of foods he ends up making, but it's primarily because they're foods he likes, or Gabi likes, and he learned to make them. He's a good cook, overall.

It's the best work-life balance he's had in a long time.

When you're better, he all but begs you to stay.

And god, how could you say no to him?

(Also for those who it matters for, if you do end up pregnant from the Heat Adventures he obviously loves kids and would love one with you, but if you don't feel ready/don't want to have kids other than Gabi, he absolutely respects it, and will talk about options with you. Granted, he'll be disappointed, but at the end of the day it's not something he CAN'T move past. Discusses birth control options with you almost immediately when the two of you get intimate again.)

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara spiderverse #spiderverse #strawberry writing #strawberry headcanons #also on god if i find any minors in my notes or in my inbox i'll maim you #i might turn this into a proper fic at some point #but you get the really long headcanon/rambly version that's all just ideas for now #because i like to feed my followers and the tag #gotta contribute b/c theres some damn good fics ive read so far #smut #i gotta update my tags smh #great news everyone i got wildly into this one #so it gets posted early

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juyeonszn · 6 months

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I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.65k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, idol!juhak and non-idol!reader, stupid man not getting the hint, jealous juhak 🤭, DOM JUHAK !!!! this deserves its own warning phew, marking, no foreplay bc we ball like steph curry, little bit of exhibitionism but also not really, unprotected sex, sex against a wall?? standing upright?? what is that position called, creampie lol

SUMMARY you hated when men flirted with you, but god if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience.

MORE im actually yelling like no way i’ve done 9 of these…. each time a fawntober fic goes up i rattle my brain around in my head to make sure it’s not empty 😭 ANYWAYS!!! if u enjoyed, please reblog <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Your feet were starting to ache from the uncomfortable heels you were wearing. Your faux smile could only handle staying on your face for so long. Your head was throbbing from all of the superficial conversations. You were just about ready to crash.

That was the thing about being the girlfriend of a successful idol, you had to accompany him to these company parties despite everyone being so fake. The only genuine people were the idols themselves. All of the higher ups and staff members were just too vain and shallow minded, you could hardly talk to them without feeling like you’d lost multiple brain cells.

To be fair, you weren’t required to attend these. Haknyeon technically wasn’t even supposed to have a girlfriend, for the sake of maintaining his image for the fans. But everyone at his company knew of your existence and he liked having the excuse to parade you around like a little trophy.

His group members often teased him for being the first to get into a relationship. The two of you had been friends way before he even began idol training and preparing to debut. During that time, you’d lost touch, thanks to his rigorous training process and dedication to his craft. But a couple years into the limelight and you found your way back to each other. Fate was a funny concept.

You were currently standing at a high-top table, mindlessly chatting with some guy from the PR department. Haknyeon had disappeared to grab you some drinks to kill time before you could finally leave. Sunwoo stayed back to keep you occupied while he was gone, but at some point, you heard Eric calling for him and he, too, had wandered off. You kind of wished you went with him, now stuck with this random man you didn’t know.

“You’re really pretty, Y/N,” the guy says, smiling at you. “Haknyeon is very lucky.”

You laugh awkwardly, thanking him for the compliment. He kept inching closer to you, making it palpable that he was flirting in spite of his awareness towards your relationship. The dude clearly couldn’t take a hint, oblivious to your uncomfortability. You didn’t want to be rude, though. These were the people who worked with your boyfriend on a near daily basis.

Where the hell was Haknyeon?

“Does he treat you well?” He asks, clearly steering the conversation in a specific direction. You know what he’s aiming at, but you pretend to be ignorant to his attempts.

“He’s an exceptional boyfriend, actually. He treats me like a princess.” You state, eyes darting around the large event hall in search of said boyfriend. If he didn’t come to your rescue soon, you feared you’d say something worthy of putting his career on the line.

“If that’s truly the case, why is he nowhere to be found? How could such a good partner leave his girlfriend all alone like this?” The gaslighting is hilarious. The fact that this guy genuinely felt he was so much better than Haknyeon, that he was much more attractive, was laughable. He sincerely thought he was powerful enough to come between your secure, loving relationship.

“Here you go, baby,” a drink is placed in front of you, a kiss left on your temple. “What are you and Seojun talking about?”

Haknyeon’s arm wraps snugly around your waist. To anyone else, he’d look normal. He was remaining neutral, lips pulled into a thin line but curved at the ends so it appeared that he was being nice. But you knew otherwise. You knew this calm was just a facade to hide how pissed off he really was. His jealousy wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. His jealousy was because he didn’t trust others.

Namely Jung Seojun, the PR department’s resident fuckboy.

You glance up at your boyfriend, surprised there wasn’t any drool rolling down your chin. You couldn’t help but be drawn into the darkness of his eyes and his clenched jaw. The best part of this was what lies ahead of you once you get home. Maybe this night wasn’t a total bust.

“Oh. Um. Just, you know, the usual pleasantries…” This dude was a shitty liar. He was fortunate that he hadn’t actually made a move on you, lest he wanted to keep his job. Ju Haknyeon didn’t play around when it came to you, the love of his life.

Thankfully, you don’t stay at the party much longer. He tried to keep his cool until it was deemed acceptable to make his exit, but at a certain point, he just couldn’t anymore. The drive home wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a thick tension filling the atmosphere. If it weren’t for the driver in the same car, you’re sure his hands would’ve been all over you.

So, the moment you step through the threshold of the dorms, door barely locked, Haknyeon’s pinning you to the surface. His lips are searing on your own, rough but soft all at once. His fingers don’t know where they want to rest, first tangled in your hair and then digging into your hips only a second later. Your head is dizzy, spinning around a mantra of his name and nothing else.

He bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “Who the hell did he think he was? Talking to my pretty girl like he was deserving of her presence?”

“Hak…” You sigh, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck. He nips and sucks at the base, and then again where it meets your jaw. You hated when men flirted with you, but God if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience. Your regularly sweet, gentle boyfriend becoming someone nearly unrecognizable drove you crazy.

“Hmm?” His hands hook under your thighs, picking you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You can feel him this way, already so hard and ready for you. You don’t think you can handle waiting for all the foreplay, your entire body tingling with want and desire.

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine, head lolling to the side when he sucks at that particularly sensitive area on your throat. “Want you so bad…”

“Yeah, princess? Gonna fuck you so good that you’ll be ruined for anyone else. No one can give it to you like I do.” He chuckles into your skin, pushing your dress up further and kissing your shoulders after the straps have slid off. Ju Haknyeon might actually be the death of you.

That was your favorite thing about sex with him. He was so uncharacteristically cocky, so uncharacteristically aggressive in the way he manhandled you. You moan when he shoves aside your underwear, undoing his slacks enough to slip his cock free. He presses into you slowly, forehead falling to your shoulder with a groan.

One of his hands comes up to fist at your hair, yanking back so he can bite at your jugular and exposed chest some more. He thrusts up into your cunt with what feels like ease in spite of your walls squeezing him. His hips snap up and meet your ass with every kiss of his cock to that spongy spot deep inside of your pussy. Everything is moving too fast, but not fast enough at the same time.

“W-What if someone comes home?” You gasp, fingers getting lost in the hair at the nape of his neck. As much as you were enjoying this, you don’t know what you’d do if one of his members walked in on you. For sure, you’d be mortified, unable to show your face around the dorm ever again.

“Who cares? Let them see how well you’re taking it,” he mutters, sucking in your supple skin and ensuring bruises are left in his wake. “I should let everyone witness how good I fuck you, right baby? Marking you all up so the world knows your mine.”

A loud moan rips from your vocal cords, his cock so deep inside of you that you’re starting to see stars. Haknyeon grins against your sternum knowing that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. You wanted him to stake his claim on your body, wanted anyone who could see to know that you were his. Even the way he fucked into you had that same purpose, like his dick was meant to be there. It was almost as if your cunt was acclimating to the shape of it.

“Fuck, feels so so good, Hak…” You whine, lower half squirming when that knot in your stomach is about to unravel. Your toes curl and your back arches off of the door, legs spreading wider in an attempt to suck him in further. “I’m gonna— oh god— I’m—”

You don’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm washing over you without a moment’s notice. The feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock has Haknyeon groaning, twitching and spilling into you seconds later. He fucks his own release back inside of you, teeth sinking into your collarbone to steel himself.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, catching your breaths in spite of his cum beginning to leak out of you. He kisses the crown of your sweaty forehead. “You did so well, princess.”

Just like earlier, you’re interrupted before you can reply, the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door. You share a look of terror, scrambling to his room so you don’t get caught. You both flop onto his bed in a fit of giggles, recalling how he’d said he didn’t care who saw you in such a compromising state.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” You tease.

“Oh, just you wait, baby,” he shakes his head, moving to hover over you. “I’ll make you regret that you said that.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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vigilskeep · 9 months

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re: circle mages barely remembering their home country. i imagine anders is very uncomfortable going to the anderfels. he barely remembers his own name. he jumps whenever somebody says "ander" or "anders." he's been using pseudonyms ever since kirkwall but none of them ever feel right and that frustrates him just as much as everything else because the name he was saddled with in the circle became His to his body and brain and not even he can change it now that he has the independence to

to be clear anders is not actually “from” the anderfels as such; his father was from there and left as a boy, and anders himself was born in ferelden. honestly, i think that’s just another layer of alienation. he’s never been to the anderfels, but whatever it was about him was so blatantly obvious that people nicknamed him that even when he refused to speak—which refusal in itself to me suggests the trade tongue might not be his first language. too old when taken to the circle to grow up fitting in, but too young for the memory of what he lost not to slip through his fingers. hiding a name that never even felt right in the first place because in a tower full of prying eyes it’s the only thing he can keep for himself. growing into a different one that just outright labels him a foreigner

so an outsider in ferelden from the first, but they’d instantly know him from a stranger in the anderfels all the same. if he went it’d be full of deja vu and irritating half memories, i think. it’d be super interesting as a character exploration. it’s also worth saying that they’re said to be a pious people who are half ruled by the wardens, so considering what he’s run from and the fact that his ander father was the one who gave him to the templars in the first place, i’m not sure a little childhood nostalgia would do anything but get his hackles up

his approach to nationality is interesting in da2, but definitely fereldan; he says “i didn’t think i’d give it a second thought once i was gone. what did ferelden ever do for me?” but in the same banter admits to missing it. and of course politically he’s strongly aligned with the fereldan refugees who specifically remark on what he’s done for “our people”, fear what happens to mages “in this city”, threaten those who come after him with “fereldan justice” and immediately drop their aggression when they realise the person looking for him is fereldan. ferelden is also the nation that most aligns itself with the mage rebellion

idk. remember how if hawke is a non-mage and sides with the templars because “kirkwall is my home and i intend to protect it”, he has the saddened line, “from us. from me. it would have been nice to have a home, instead of a cell or a hiding place”, but if they’re a mage it’s the much more dismissive and angry, “an apostate doesn’t have a home—just somewhere to hide”. some places might feel more like home, but he pretty directly engages with the idea of mages’ status making them stateless, and he thinks any apostate is a fool for thinking otherwise

#anders #sorry this turned into an essay

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baronessblixen · 6 months

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Prompt: 28. "I may not get another chance to say this."

Sequel to "The Truth Is (Not) Found In A Glass of Whiskey": It's the morning after and Skinner wakes up with a hangover - and remembers way too much from the previous night. (wc: 1,409)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 29: Glass Half Full

When Skinner first wakes, he thinks he’s lost at sea. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, most of what happened yesterday doesn’t. He opens his eyes with difficulty and is hit with a wave of nausea.

“Fuck,” he groans, willing his stomach to behave. In his many years on this planet, he’s gotten drunk several times. Too many to count. This hangover, he’s convinced, is the worst yet. And where the hell is he? His head spinning, he tries to find something that looks familiar. This is neither a boat nor his own apartment. Then it hits him when he sees a book called Bigfoot is Real: The Truth About Your Favorite Cryptid on the nightstand. He’s at Mulder’s place. That may or may not explain the waterbed under him, too.

Skinner sits up slowly, feeling dizzy. He squints his eyes at his watch, seeing that it’s just after 6 a.m. Good to know that his body still knows when to get up, even after he’s tried to kill all his brain cells with expensive whiskey. He hasn’t thrown himself a pity party in so long; probably not since his wife left him. He was due. But, he realizes, as he stumbles to the adjoining room where he hopes Mulder’s bathroom is, he should keep it to the weekends.

As he relieves himself, staring at the tiles in the bathroom, he wonders what Mulder would say if he showered here. Does he have enough time to drive home and take a shower? Is he even sober enough to drive? There's just a slight problem: Mulder and Scully brought him here last night. He doesn’t have his car. Of course, he doesn’t. He can’t imagine driving to work with his two troublesome agents. Especially after last night. He doesn’t remember everything – and he’s thankful for that. But he remembers enough to feel heat creep into his cheeks.

The apartment is quiet as he steps out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, at a loss for what he should do. He finds his pants and is relieved to realize that he must have taken them off himself. He doubts Mulder or Scully would have haphazardly thrown them about. He never did take off his dress shirt but some buttons have come undone and it’s wrinkled. Fuck. He either has to ask Mulder for a spare one or drive home.

He decides to venture further and see what his agents are about. He knows he should be thankful. They could have just left him at the office and who knows what would have happened. He’s sure he would have finished his whiskey bottle that Mulder took from him. Who is to say he wouldn’t have wanted more? Mulder may have saved him from doing something incredibly dumb and potentially dangerous. Well, he was probably due for a favor anyway, considering he keeps saving their asses.

No one bothered to shut the curtains, so there’s light peeking in through the blinds, making it easy for Skinner to find Mulder and Scully on the couch. At first, he thinks they’re watching him and he freezes. But that’s not the case at all. They’re upright but fast asleep. Mulder has his legs outstretched and his head tilted toward Scully, who’s leaning against him, a hand on his stomach and drooling on his shirt. Not a couple my ass, he thinks.

He wants to wake them and yell at them that he’s known all along. Then again, he’s pretty sure he already did that last night. He watches them, confronting his own feelings. The reason why he got drunk in the first place. He wonders if they even know how lucky they are to have found each other. All he does is search and hope. Only to have his heart crushed again and again. He’s not sure he can keep looking for love.

How many times can a heart be broken? At what point will he be unable to put the pieces back together? He’s forever bruised. But the longer he watches, the more he understands that he wants what they have. He’s never seen two people so in love. Who are friends, partners, and equals in everything they do.

He tears his eyes away; he’s creeped them out enough last night. He tiptoes into the kitchen, looking for a glass so he can drink some water. His mouth is dry and his tongue feels too big. He down one glass of ice-cold water, then another, feeling more sober by the second.

“Do you want coffee?” Skinner almost chokes, setting down the glass, and staring at Mulder with bleary eyes.

“You were asleep,” he says.

“Heard you walk around.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not a good sleeper anyway. Unlike Scully. She can sleep through everything.” He’s smiling as he says this, starting the coffee machine. “How are you feeling this morning, sir?”

“As well as can be expected after a night of heavy drinking,” he admits. “Mulder, I may not get another chance to say this, but I’m grateful for what you and Scully did for me. I was in a bad place last night. Thank you.”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you get another chance to say this?”

“I doubt I’ll make it to work on time,” he says. “I have a meeting with Kersh early this morning. Can you imagine what he’ll do when he sees me like this?”

“Go take a shower. I’m sure we’ll find something for you to wear. Scully is resourceful. Hell, she might put some makeup on you to make you look radiant.” He grins. “You may not remember last night, but I meant it when I said we’re your friends. We’ve all been there.”

“I was right about you two,” Skinner says.

“Sir?”

“You’re dating. You know that HR-”

“We’re not dating,” Mulder says.

“I may be hungover from last night, Mulder, but I do have eyes. I really am happy for you two. I know I said some things last night, but… I really am. It’s good to know you’re out there together, keeping an eye on each other. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I promise you that.”

“We’re really not-”

“Mulder, it’s okay.” He sighs, sounding frustrated. The length these two will go to deny their feelings for each other astounds him. “And now I really got to get ready if I want to keep my job and with the way my life is going, I’d really rather not add unemployment to the list.”

Mulder nods. “Go take a shower and I’ll wake Scully. She’ll know what to do.”

“I have no doubts.” He finds himself smiling.

Back in the bathroom, Skinner can’t find any towels, cursing under his breath. He returns to the living room, intending to ask Mulder where to find any, when he sees him crouching in front of the couch, one hand cupping Scully’s cheek and the other one on her hip.

“Time to wake up,” he whispers softly, a genuine smile on his face. Skinner knows he’s peeping on an intimate moment and should turn away, but he’s mesmerized by what he’s witnessing.

“Is it morning already?” Scully mumbles and Skinner is surprised to find that between his two agents, Scully is the one who’s grouchy in the morning.

“It is,” Mulder replies, his voice still gentle, and his hands still on Scully. “And we need to get Skinner ready for work.” Why does he make it sound like he’s their toddler and not their boss? “I need your brain for that.”

“Hmm, do you really?”

“I do,” Mulder says, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose. And to think that five minutes ago he was denying they’re dating. “No one is as smart and as brilliant as you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mulder.”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

Skinner chooses that moment to retreat and give them this moment. He’ll find a towel in Mulder’s bathroom or he won’t. He, too, can be resourceful. Unlike last night, he feels hope sprout in his chest. Who knew he was still capable of that? And he has to thank Mulder and Scully. Or maybe he won’t. He can keep that little tidbit to himself.

He steps under the warm water, closing his eyes, and finds himself whistling. There will be better days. And who knows, maybe he'll find love again, too.

#fictober23 #people have asked for a sequel #so that's what i did #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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squishablesunbeam · 3 months

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Consequence of Action: Collared

This whole thing took on a bit of an outside perspective. Not sure why my brain did that but I hope you like! Continued bits from Consequence of Action series :)

CW: captured whumpee, mentions of beating, execution of side characters, collared, allusion to noncon, would be multiple whumpers, all the science inaccuracies in space

It had been hours since Thompson had caught him hacking into the ship's systems and unceremoniously bashed his head into the console. Still, Quinn remembered finishing and executing the program that would override the system and give Murphy's crew all the access they needed take down the Captain. He had managed to do his part at least, before being taken out of the fight and tossed into a cell. No one else had been brought into the brig with him so, at first, he held onto hope that it had been enough. That the plan was solid and Murphy had overthrown the Captain. But that felt like a long time ago now, and Murphy had yet to come for him.

Quinn's arms ached from being tied behind his back for so long and his head was throbbing. He'd managed to drag himself up the wall and onto his feet. He needed to move. They had been gearing up for this moment for months. Careful planning and precise timing had led them to this moment and Quinn refused to just sit on his ass while the others fought for all of their lives. He was useless in the cell, so he paced. All that unspent energy slowly morphed into a quiet, knowing panic that rooted itself deep in his gut.

It was one thing to know you were going to die, to accept that fact, but it was another to have to wait in dreaded anticipation for it to actually happen. Quinn pictured the many ways the Captain would do it. Execution by beheading? That was rather grand. Shot in the head? Maybe? A lot for the rest of the crew to clean up. Beaten to death? Possibly. In the end, the airlock was the most likely choice. He could do it. When the Captain's men come for him, he'd walk down the hall with his head held high. He'd let himself be led into the airlock and force himself to look straight into the Captain's cruel, evil fucking eyes.

He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't scream.

Quinn envisioned it a hundred times, preparing himself, before the door finally opened. He spun toward the sound of the door, his vision spinning along with him but he planted his feet firmly and stood his ground.

The tiny ember of hope that had remained died out in a quick burst of fury when it was the Captain that strolled into the brig instead of Murphy.

This was it. He was a dead man.

The Captain looked worse for wear. He had dried blood all down his neck and soaked into the hem of his shirt from a deep gash on his cheek. His hair was a mess and he looked like he'd been in the fight of his life. Quinn couldn't help the smirk that tugged up his lips.

“On your knees,” the Captain ordered.

Quinn huffed out a surprised breath, “Fuck you.”

–

They'd been sealed up in the airlock for hours. Still, every single one of Murphy's crew remained on their feet in defiance of these cowards that refused to just get it over with already and pull that damn lever that would send them to their deaths. They leaned heavily on one other, bloodied and broken, defeated, but by god, they would die on their feet.

Murphy was proud of each and every one of his crew. They had lost, spectacularly, but they'd fought hard.

He grunted as he tried to straighten up a bit and take some of his own weight off of Martinez's shoulder. She tightened her hold on the waistband of his pants, effectively holding him up on his feet. He squeezed her arm, hoping to convey something along the lines of, he didn't know really... thank you, I'm sorry, we're so royally fucked and it's my fault, it was worth it. He wasn't sure how to convey that much weight through a single death grip on her arm but he was pretty sure she got the message.

Murphy's leg pulsed, blood still trickling in rivulets from the wound Jackson had stabbed deep into the meat of his thigh. He figured he would die soon anyway by the heavy weight of blood soaking into his pants. He might as well go out with the few friends he had left in the feigned glory of an execution. They'll go out like sailors on this beloved, godforsaken ship of theirs and it will all be worth it. He wasn't sure how that could possibly be true, but he knew that trying and failing still mattered, somehow, in the end.

He glanced through the thick glass that separated his crew from the Captain's. The others stood in a lazy half circle around the glass of the airlock, waiting for the show with something akin to rabid glee. All except one. Murphy took his time taking in the measure of the man that would seal their fate. Sure, it was the Captain that would give the order, but it was Security Officer Collins that would heft that damn lever and suck all of the oxygen out of their lungs. And he would do it without blinking an eye.

Murphy had underestimated the man.

He knew that now.

He'd been afraid that Collins' time spent in the wars would have instilled in him a kind of honor that would be particularly offended by the overthrowing of his captain. Well, Murphy was right about that part, but he thought of Collins as a good man underneath all that blind duty and honor bullshit. Murphy will admit, he was hoping that Collins would, bare minimum, stand by and let it happen. He had to know that it was the right thing to do in the end. It turned out, Murphy had overestimated Collins' moral code and underestimated the man's effectiveness.

That was his first and second mistake.

Collins was a brutal and efficient soldier. He had almost single-handedly quelled the uprising in the battle that followed the first power outage on deck. Quinn had locked the Captain's crew out of all the consoles and sealed the doors to the armory. Murphy was certain the lack of weaponry and the element of surprise alone would turn the battle in their favor. His delusions were shattered when Murphy personally witnessed Collins taking out at least 5 of his crew in hand to hand combat and utilizing the close quarters of the ship's halls to his advantage. He'd made quick work of Murphy's best fighters and had them dead or on their knees in what couldn't have been more than a handful of minutes.

It was impressive.

God, if only he'd been on their side, they most certainly would have won. They had started with fifteen people willing to fight, and die, to overthrow the Captain and his ranks. Only six were left. Six good, decent members of Murphy's crew, forced into the airlock and shoved to their knees and there Collins stood, eyes front with his hand on the lever.

The ever dutiful soldier.

Murphy's gaze caught sight of the outer door to the chamber opening. He couldn't hear anything through the reinforced glass except for the exhausted breathing and barely contained hisses of pain from his own people. Everything outside those thick windows was silent. He drew in a sharp breath when the Captain stalked through the door dragging a bloodied man by his hair.

Seven. Seven of his crew had survived.

“Quinn.”

Murphy felt those around him tense as the man was dropped onto the floor and crumbled into a bloody heap. His hands were bound behind his back with what looked like wire and he'd taken a hell of a beating. Murphy held his breath, his heart swelling with pride, when Quinn slowly folded his knees under himself and tried to stand. The rebellion would never had made it off the ground if it wasn't for Quinn. The man was brilliant. He had a head for strategy that Murphy truly didn't expect and he knew all the ins and outs of the communication and security systems like the back of his hand. He had done his job expertly.

It was Murphy that had failed. It was Murphy that had gotten them all killed.

Quinn didn't make it far off the floor.

The Captain kneed Quinn in his ribs and the collective gasps of his crew in the chamber almost tricked Murphy's mind into thinking he could actually hear Quinn grunt in pain. The man folded in on himself. Murphy watched as Quinn grit his bloody teeth and quickly fought to straighten back up again. The Captain placed a single hand to his shoulder and it stopped his ascent this time. Quinn slumped, staying on his knees and silently gasping for breath.

The man was clearly struggling to stay conscious. Blood was oozing down his face from a gash up in his hairline but he managed to drag his head up and his eyes cleared the moment he saw Murphy through the glass. Quinn's eyes widened as understanding dawned on him that some of his people were still alive. Alive, and waiting for Quinn before they would be put to their death. His gaze darted over to Collins standing by the lever that would open the airlock and then back to Murphy again. Murphy saw the muscle in Collins' jaw jump but that was the only indication that he had any feelings at all about the impending executions.

Murphy took a small, careful step forward, his hand reaching out to Martinez for balance. He could see Quinn visibly trying to steel himself, preparing himself to be tossed in with the rest of them. Willing himself to be brave in the face of every sailors greatest fear.

“I'm sorry,” Murphy whispered, to Quinn, to his crew, to all those that the Captain would continue to hurt in their absence. He watched as Quinn actually had the audacity to smirk. He gave a half shrug as if he was saying, “hey, we did our best.”

Murphy smiled back.

Quinn grunted as the hand on his shoulder pressed him down, forcing his back to round and he hung his head, unable to keep it up any longer. Murphy could feel the eyes of the Captain on him and he finally relented, looking at the man that would order them to their collective deaths.

What he saw in that man's eyes, he didn't understand it, but it turned his blood cold.

A smirk of his own crossed the Captain's face as he revealed what looked like some sort of metal contraption out from behind his back.

“Captain? Lewis, what are you-” Murphy shook his head, limping himself another step forward as if he could actually reach the men not two feet in front of him. His words turned to ash in his throat as the Captain's hand that was pressing down on Quinn's shoulder dragged up the man's neck and grabbed under his chin.

“No,” Murphy swallowed bile.

–

Something in the room had changed.

Quinn dragged his face against his shoulder, trying to get the blood out of his eyes before forcing himself to lift his head and look at Murphy. A strange look had come over his friend's face and Quinn cocked his head. His expression had morphed from anger and brave defiance to what Quinn could only describe as repulsed horror? Quinn felt the firm grip on his shoulder loosen to almost gentle as it slid up the side of his neck and Quinn watched Murphy mouth the word “no” as a shiver crept through his own body.

Quinn startled back and slammed right into the Captain's legs when Murphy took two steps and kicked out at the thick glass separating them. Fingers tightened painfully around Quinn's chin but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Murphy. He was screaming without sound, fury turning his angry face red as he repeatedly kicked the glass. Quinn could see blood pumping from a wound on Murphy's thigh and he wanted to tell him to stop. He felt like it was all happening in some slow motion nightmare, the kind where you weren't entirely in control of your own body. He couldn't fight it when the hand gripping his chin forced his head up and he had to tear his eyes away from Murphy and look up at the Captain.

The volume in the room suddenly became far too loud. The Captain's men whooped and groaned out sounds that didn't make sense to Quinn.

He'd missed something.

“You hear me, boy?”

Quinn ground his teeth, hissing when the Captain tightened his grip on his chin.

“I'm not a fucking boy,” Quinn spit out, shifting his legs underneath him with every intention of standing. Then, the Captain's thumb brush through the blood that trickled down the side of Quinn's mouth and swiped over his bottom lip.

Quinn froze.

“Captain?” Someone said over Quinn's shoulder, but with one look from the Captain, he was silent again.

The Captain lifted his other hand and held something out in front of him. Quinn could hear the sound of the glass trembling slightly. He could practically feel Murphy throwing the full force of his body at the glass but he didn't dare look away. In the Captain's hand, was a collar. There was no other word for it. Two pieces of metal slid smoothly into one another, a lot like handcuffs, and there was even a slot for a key where the two pieces locked together.

“What-?” Quinn mumbled, confused. Why the fuck did he have a collar? Before another horrifying thought was able to pass through his mind, the Captain fisted his hair and dragged him onto his feet. He felt his body slam into the glass and an arm pressed against the back of his neck, and suddenly, he was face to face with Murphy.

A thread of fear unlike any Quinn had ever felt before unfurled itself throughout his body.

“Murphy?” Quinn stupidly said in a numb panic.

He didn't understand what this was. Why wasn't he being marched into the airlock with the rest of his crew? Why the fuck did the Captain have a fucking collar?

Murphy's face twisted in desperate, sobbing rage. Quinn felt the reverberation of the glass against his chest as Murphy kicked out at it uselessly before he finally gave up, his own chest heaving in frantic breaths.

He'd never seen Murphy look so defeated before. It didn't make any sense. Murphy was strong, idealistic. He was honorable. Murphy always held onto hope for a better world, if we could just stand up a little more for what was right. If we just fought back.

“Quinn,” he watching Murphy's mouth move, “Don't fight him, Quinn.”

Quinn swallowed the fear that boiled up into his throat. Even if he could hear Murphy's words he wouldn't have understood them.

Cool metal touched the back of Quinn's neck and that thread of fear ignited. Quinn jerked his head back, connecting solidly with something that felt very much like bone. Hands left his body just as more hands seized him and pressed him into the glass. He twisted and kicked out at anything he could find.

Quinn felt his body weakening as bodies pressed his own against the glass. Murphy just stood and watched. Quinn hated that he was the one to put that look on Murphy's face. He was supposed to be brave, to stand proudly and walk to his own death without fear.

This wasn't the plan.

He again felt the cool metal touch the back of his neck and he recoiled in the hands of the men. A hand pressed his face against the glass and they held him firm as the metal enclosed his throat.

Quinn screamed.

The sound of the lock clicked in some thick, distant part of his mind. This meant something he didn't yet understand. His body felt heavy and almost unreal, separate from his mind in a way he'd never felt before. Quinn realized he had closed his eyes and forced them open again.

Murphy had his forehead pressed to the glass, right over his own. The puffs of their breath fogged up the space between them. He didn't want Murphy to die. Not if he wasn't going to die too. They were supposed to go together. Brothers in arms. Quinn realized that Murphy was saying something again but a horrifyingly alert corner of his mind felt fingers brush up under his shirt and trail across his stomach. The men closed in around him and he felt someone press their lips against the underside of his jaw. He felt the man's stubble drag roughly against his cheek. Another hand was scratching to get their fingers underneath the waistband of his pants.

What was happening?

Quinn couldn't look away. He watched Murphy's face as the Captain muttered a single word...and then another, much louder this time. Quinn couldn't hear it past the thump of his own frantic heart pounding in his ears.

The lever that opened the airlock must have been hefted up because the big, metal doors slid silently open.

It didn't happen like in the movies, with a rush of air that sucked the crew out into the vastness of space. First, the airlock was depressurized. Air hissed out of the room and the crew's mouths opened and closed, gasping for oxygen that was no longer there. The door slid open and the gravity was turned off, their feet lifting slowly off the floor. Murphy was still mouthing words Quinn didn't understand, his mouth only stopping as he slowly passed through the doors with the rest of his crew and drifted off into nothing, leaving Quinn behind.

Quinn heard himself make a terrible, broken sound as the fingers under his shirt flattened against his stomach and he was dragged back away from the glass and into the hands of the crew.

Taglist: @peachy-panic, @ladygwennn, @whumplr-reader, @hold-him-down, @monochrome-episode, @dogface3000, @skyhawkwolf, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @whumpterful-beeeeee, @maddam-redder, @susiequaz12, @pigeonwhumps, @starlit-darkness

#consequence of action #this story always does what it wants #i hope you like!#collared whumpee #captured whumpee #execution #of side characters #dissociation #beating #noncon touching #allusions to noncon #innocent naïve Quinn in those early days 🥺

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theewicked · 3 months

Text

Enjoy!

Strap ON

Eivor thrusted in harshly, calloused hand gripping the bed post with enough force that her knuckles were white. She pushed the head of her strap against your cervix with all her glorious might. It had you seeing stars, and you needed to press your face against the plush mattress even more to contain the scream that threatened to escape your fucked out, tired throat.

A large hand came in between your face and the bed, squeezing and tugging it up until you could see the ceiling. It made your back arch almost uncomfortably but made Eivor hit such a deep, delicious spot inside you.

“I wanna hear them noises, dove.” Eivor said into your ear, rich and deep voice almost getting lost in between the myriad of pants, squelching, and slapping skin. She accentuated her command with a pointedly deep thrust that had you basically mewling.

“Such a good girl for me.” She said before letting go of your neck and making you fall forwards, having to catch yourself weakly on your forearms. The hand that wasn’t gripping the bedpost snaked around your middle before resting just below your belly button. Eivor pushed gently on the spot, again making you see stars.

Your pussy was so, so wet, you could feel your nectar dripping down your trembling thighs. And the sounds Eivor’s strap made inside you were so very dirty, they almost seemed to spur Eivor on more, like they were some type of reward she gained from fucking the brain cells out of you.

You felt her vicious pounding melt into something slightly more of a gentler tempo, a fact you were quite relieved with, as you were pretty sure your insides were fucked raw and bruised at this point. Two hands came to rest on your upper back, massaging slowly, gently. It was a type of feeling you were entirely unfamiliar with at the moment: You two had been at it for some time now, long enough for your stamina to wane. Though it seemed like Eivor’s had not. It never did and it was almost scary.

Thumbs dug into the spent muscles of your back, pressing deep circles into your skin and flesh. All the while Eivor kept a practiced tempo with her godly hips, and the strap melted into your cunt divinely, scraping your walls and the tip of it kissed deep spots inside you.

Those blunt thumbs slowly turned into trimmed nails as you felt Eivor drag them down your arched back. It was such a light, ticklish feeling that had you drooling into the sheets at the contrast of it compared to the deep, thick thrusts you were receiving elsewhere. Those nails painted themselves down until they reached where your back met your ass.

A sharp slap that had you crying out was placed upon the swelled flesh of your right ass cheek, leaving a rosy red mark no doubt.

Those nails dragged themselves up your back again, leaving goosebumps and making you shiver. But this time, they did not stop where your back did. They continued down your arms until you could feel Eivor’s large, muscled body leaning over yours as she reached over and wrapped her deft, long fingers around your wrists. She brought your arms in front of you and placed your hands on the bedpost, beckoning you to hold onto it just as she had done only moments before. So you did.

“Good girl.” Eivor’s hot breath met your ear and the tip of her tongue softly traced the outline of your ear, the touch teasing. You felt her soft blonde hair rest on your skin, and saw it fall either side of your head. The warmth of your dim bedroom light bounced off of it, making it appear like spun gold.

Her small breasts pressed against your back as her hands fell from your wrists and palmed your own, making your nipples harden. She kneaded the supple flesh of them as her lips caressed the side of your neck before she pushed herself back into her original position on her knees, only this time she seemed to have crawled forwards more in between your legs, the strap remaining inside you and moving slowly the entire time.

Her hips stopped their movement suddenly, making your insides feel strange from the lack of friction. You managed to twist your head and look behind your bare shoulder.

The sight you were presented with had your cunt squeezing itself around the thick toy buried in you.

The soft light bounced off of Eivor’s abdominal muscles, shading and highlighting them in a way that had you whimpering. She had fully sat down on her knees, ass cheeks touching her heels and she leant backwards slightly. Your eyes travelled up her strong arms, the sweat smeared there making them look delectable. Eivor’s hands came behind her and gripped both of your ankles, lifting your feet from where they rested on the mattress and keeping them by her hips so the only part of your legs touching it were your knees.

Your heavy-lidded gaze finally trailed up to your lovers face. Her deep blue eyes were already on you, the look in them smouldering and the pupils blown. Her kiss-swollen lips were a sweet pink that had them resembling a piece of ripe fruit, just begging to be bitten into and enjoyed. Eivor’s high, regal cheekbones were dusted with sweat so fine it might have well had been glitter.

She thrusted into you deeply, the grip she had on your ankles tightening in time as she pulled you towards her using them. You saw the defined muscles of her arms flex and tighten under her skin. Eivor thrusted again, this time harder, and the way she was using you made black spots swarm your already dimmed vision.

You turned your head away from your lover and rested your forehead on the bedpost in between your hands as she started pounding into you viciously again. Only this time she was forcing your body onto the fake cock too, making the experience one of true, pure ecstasy.

Your fifth orgasm of the night creeped up on you, the feeling skittering down your spine and resting low in your belly. You did not want faster, or harder. This was perfect.

“Yes Eivor, please.” Your begging was almost incoherent, buried beneath a whiny pitch and breathy tone.

“What was that, sweetheart?” The pet name she gave you was so sweet compared to the way she was slamming into you. It had tears forming in your tired eyes. “You wanna cum?” She asked, voice deep and clear despite the exercise she was presenting her body with. She should’ve been just as out of breath as you were. Of course she wasn’t.

You nodded, forehead lifting off of the cold bedpost just to do so, before dropping down again.

All movement stopped, making the slowly winding coil in your tummy go lax. You sobbed. A hand came up and gripped your hair by your roots roughly, pulling your head up. “What did you say baby?” Eivor said, her hand travelling down from your hair to your throat, squeezing slightly.

“Yes please, let me cum.” Your voice was weak and tears travelled down your warm cheeks.

Eivor’s low chuckle was felt deep in your bones, and you could perfectly imagine the cunning little smirk that no doubt graced her gorgeous mouth that paired it. “As you wish.” Was all she said before her hand left your throat, letting your head drop back down to its previous position. You felt warm hands on your ankles again and Eivor resumed her heady, fast paced rhythm.

That coil tightened again after no time and your pussy contracted and buzzed around Eivor’s strap.

She started groaning, sensing a slight more difficulty in pulling out with how tight you were gripping her. Her noises only spurred you on, as now your low wails could be heard throughout the room.

Soon enough, your muscles tensed and that feeling in your tummy that had twisted itself so tightly, finally snapped. Your limbs tingled with your climax and Eivor’s gentle praises could barely be heard over your mewls. Your hands gripped the headboard so tightly, almost as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

Eivor fucked you through the climax expertly, and had you whimpering when she bit down harshly on your shoulder while doing it. Eventually her hips slowed down, and her grip on your ankles loosened. You also calmed down, even more so when Eivor pulled out of you gently, making you feel almost empty. She made quick work of removing the strap, and got up to swiftly deposit it in the bathroom for cleaning later.

For now, though, she would clean you up with a warm, wet cloth softly, murmuring warm praises into your ears with her deep voice as she wrapped you up in blankets, urging you to sleep.

“Sleep now, dove. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Your eyes closed almost immediately, sleep tugging at your spent body.

#female eivor #smut #x reader #gxg #lesbian #gayyyy

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