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bedsyandco · 3 months

Text

Soon you’ll get better

❥ — ꒰ pairing ꒱ lani x quinn hughes

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ the aftermath of the accident

❥ — ꒰ content ꒱ talks of an accident, medical injuries, death, miscarriage. incorrect medical talk and diagnosis…obviously i’m not a doctor and this is fiction!! unedited. will be edited later!!

❥ — ꒰ note ꒱ title bc I listened to the song while writing!!

Eight and a half hours later when the Hughes family arrived in Vancouver and at the hospital, Quinn was still in the same position he had been the entire night. Sat on the floor, his arms rested on his bent legs, his head rested against the wall. When he saw his family arriving he mustered the little energy he had left after not sleeping last night, to push himself up and meet them halfway across the waiting room.

“Oh Quinn,” is all his mom said as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held him for a few minutes. Afterwards he gave his dad a long hug, no word being exchanged there because what could he say?

“Have you heard anything?” Violet asks as Quinn hugs her.

“Not really. The doctor comes out every few hours to tell me that she’s still stable and that they’re doing everything they can but… it’s been hours and…” Quinn says, tearing up again and he wipes his face frustratedly.

“You should get some sleep,” Jack suggests softly and Quinn just glares at him.

“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn responds

“Quinn we’ll wake you-”

“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn repeats and Jack nods.

Jack understood. So did Luke. He spent the 8 hour flight over there thinking about what he would do if God forbid something ever happened to Violet. He determined that Violet was gonna live way longer than him and that he’d never have to live that horrible life without her, nothing was ever allowed to happen to her. Luke wraps his arms tightly around her again, kissing her neck where he could feel her pulse and the pressure in his chest lessens a bit but it returns when he goes back to observing his older brother.

“Do you know how it happened yet?” Jim asks and Quinn nods

“She was on her way to the restaurant, a truck lost control on the road and Lani swerved to miss it, her car rolled off the road and crashed straight into a pole. Apparently she’s lucky she swerved otherwise she would have died on impact with the truck. Doesn’t feel very fucking lucky though, does it?” Quinn asks angrily and everyone flinches a little when he curses but all of them remain silent. Not quite sure what to say.

“God, if I had just…gone home and picked her up. Or cancelled the damn dinner. You know I can’t even really remember what my life was like before the past year, before her. And I can’t even imagine what it would look like without her,” Quinn says, his voice cracking at the end.

“You don’t have to imagine it. Lani’s gonna be okay Quinn. She’s gonna pull through,”Jack says, pulling his brother into a tight hug.

“I’m gonna go get us some coffee,” Blue says to Violet softly and she leaves just as the doctor appears.

“Mr. Hughes?” the doctor asks from a distance away and Quinn walks closer, so only he would hear what the doctor was saying, scanning the doctor’s face for any clues as to what he should prepare for, but the doctor’s face doesn’t give anything away.

“Is she okay?” Quinn asks desperately

“Ms. Reed is out of surgery and will be moved to recovery now. She had extensive injuries. She had multiple fractured bones in her arm, and shoulder. She also took a major blow to the head and there was some internal bleeding that we were able to stop luckily. One of her lungs was punctured-” the doctor’s words get caught off by Quinn turning towards the garbage can to vomit.

“I’m good, you can continue” Quinn rasps out as the doctor sends him a concerned look.

“The list of injuries is long Mr. Hughes but the most important thing is that she’s okay and she’ll make a full recovery. Physically at least. Unfortunately Ms. Reed suffered a miscarriage because of the physical trauma and shock her body went through because of the accident and there was nothing we could do,” the doctor says softly and Quinn stops breathing for a second.

“Miscarriage?” Quinn asks, not quite comprehending the fact that Lani was…

“Ms. Reed was pregnant prior to the accident. She wasn’t very far along…7-8 weeks potentially. It was likely that she didn’t even know yet. There was no permanent damage done and she should have no problem getting pregnant again in the future. I can be the one to tell her if you don’t feel-”

“No, I’ll do it,” Quinn immediately responds, knowing it would be better if it came from him.

“Someone will be out shortly to take you to her room. I’m very sorry for your loss,” the doctor says sympathetically before walking away again and Quinn has to lean against the wall for a second to process what he just heard. The doctor obviously assumed correctly that the baby was his since he told them him and Lani were engaged despite their very obvious missing rings.

Lani is pregnant. Was pregnant. Was.

Quinn walks back towards his family, a little dazed. His lack of sleep and shock of what happened in the past 24 hours finally caught up to him.

“She’s gonna be okay,” is all Quinn says because Lani should be the first person he tells about the baby, and maybe she doesn’t want other people to know and Quinn wanted to make sure he respected those wishes.

Everyone practically deflates with relief and his parents take a seat on the chairs, his mom letting out a few tears.

“Luke and I are gonna stop by your apartment. Get you some clothes and other things. I’ll pack Lani a bag too,” Violet says and Quinn hands her the keys to his car and his apartment. The guys had driven to the hospital with his car and ordered a ride home so Quinn still had his vehicle.

“You know where my stuff is. Lani’s things are all in the same places, just on the left. Same with the bathroom, all her stuff is in the left vanity,” Quinn says and Violet nods giving him a tight hug.

“We love you,” she says and Quinn squeezes her tight.

“Thanks for being here,” he responds

“Of course,”

They leave and when Blue comes back a few minutes later with 2 hands filled with multiple cups of coffee, Quinn feels his chest contract again. Lani loves coffee.

“We’re gonna go get everyone some food. We’ll be back but if you go see her before we return, tell Lani we love her yeah?” Jack says taking Blue’s hand in his own and Quinn nods as they make their way to the exit.

About thirty minutes later a nurse shows up and leads him to Lani’s room, and this is all Quinn’s been waiting for…a moment to lay his eyes on Lani and be sure that she’s okay. That he didn’t lose her. That they were gonna be okay.

But as he stood in the entrance of the room, he was unable to move, or speak, or breathe at the sight in front of him.

There she was. His Lani. Except she didn’t look like his Lani at all. Because his Lani was full of light, and so filled with joy she practically glowed with it. And now she was pale, battered, bruised and blue.

Quinn simply stands there for a moment observing her before he walks closer, taking the seat closest to her bedside and gently as ever, grabbing her hand and holding it against his cheek, pressing multiple kisses on her palm.

He fell asleep like that, clutching her hand tightly and resting his head against her.

A few hours later he awoke to the feeling of fingers gently running through his hair and his eyes instantly shot open.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze and he instantly teared up again.

“Lani,” he whispers, standing up and leaning over to kiss her on the temple

“We should call the nurse,” Quinn says hastily but Lani halts him with a hand on his arm.

“The nurse was already in here, just a few moments ago. She explained what happened and gave me some pain meds,” Lani says

“How long have you been awake?” Quinn asks

“For thirty minutes or so,”

“You should’ve woken me up,” Quinn says

“The nurse said you didn’t sleep at all last night, I wanted to let you rest a little longer,” Lani explains and Quinn sighs

“Come sit,” Lani says patting the spot next to her and Quinn immediately shakes his head

“No I don’t wanna hurt you,” he argues, choosing to sit at the bottom of the bed instead.

They talk for a little bit but half an hour later the troubled look on Quinn’s face still hasn’t disappeared.

“I’m okay Quinn,”

“You almost weren’t though,” he argues, his voice cracking

“But I am. And that’s all that matters. I'm here. I'm okay.” she says softly and Quinn just stares at her for a few minutes

“I should probably go give my parents an update,” Quinn says but doesn’t move.

“Your parents are here?” Lani asks surprised

“yeah, came as soon as they heard what happened. So did my brothers and Vi and Blue,” Quinn says

“oh. they didn’t need to fly all the way out here for me,”

“you almost died lani,” quinn says incredulously. finding it ridiculous that she’s even having the thought that her almost dying is an inconvenience to others.

“They can visit tomorrow if you’re up for it,” Quinn determines, seeing how tired she looks. She didn’t have to see them today. Or tomorrow. Or at all if she didn’t want to.

Him and Lani spend the next hour or so just talking, reassuring one another that she was okay and everything was gonna be fine. And then Quinn remembered that there was still something he needed to tell her. He really didn’t want to, not wanting to hurt her even more than she was already hurt.

“Lani. I need to tell you something,” Quinn starts but hesitates

“What is it?” she asks concerned, taking both his hands in hers.

“Before the accident, you were- you were pregnant. But the baby didn’t make it,” Quinn says softly and it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart when she gasps and tears up, retracting her hands and putting them on her stomach.

“No,” she whispers, and Quinn wipes her tears, nodding sadly.

“No,” she repeats again, her body shaking with her sobs and Quinn just wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

Her sobs eventually die down, but the tears never stop, all ending up on Quinn’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry Quinn,” she apologises softly, pressing a kiss to his neck, knowing he must be hurting too.

“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. None of this is your fault, you hear me?” he asks and she nods against his shoulder.

Rationally Lani knew it wasn’t the right time to have a baby. Her and Quinn are only dating for about a year now, she was still in school, he was only now really settling in with the responsibility of being captain. But she also can’t help but be sad at the possibility of what could have been. Of what they could have had.

“We’re gonna be okay angel. The only thing that matters right now is that you’re okay. We’ll get through the rest together okay?” he asks and she nods, tears still falling as he cups her face and presses kisses all over. Kissing every tear away.

“I love you so much. More than I can even try to explain,” Quinn says, kissing her gently, and that just makes the tears fall even more.

“I love you the most,” she replies, snuggling into him more as he holds her. They would spend the rest of the day like that. And the next few days. And a lot of days after that. But they were gonna be okay, as long as they had each other.

#❥ — ꒰ lani + quinn ꒱

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years

Text

for reasons unknown

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 5.3k warnings: 18+ [mature themes & adult language, minors dni !]: enemies? to lovers, kinda angsty, borderline emotional cheating (reader has a bf for like the first half), jealousy, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, talk of self-doubt / insecurities, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl), masturbation (male, nothing graphic), allusions to sex (again, nothing graphic), a little physical violence (reader slaps someone), mentions of food & drink consumption - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: secrets — and feelings — come to light when you're paired up with a certain metalhead for a history projects.

a/n: so this was supposed to be a full blown smut fic but when i started writing, i was like 4k in of just backstory so i might do a short part 2 that's just smut idk, lemme know if you'd like that!

edit: part two

If someone asked him a few weeks ago whether he would consider you a friend, he would have laughed in their face.

A friend? What a joke. Being your friend, even thinking of you as such, was so far removed from the realm of reality. It was possibly Eddie Munson’s worst nightmare.

You made his blood boil.

In Eddie’s eyes, you never experienced hardships. How could you? In your perfect house, with your perfect family, surrounded by your perfect friends, a perfect boyfriend attached to you at the hip.

Everything was fucking perfect.

In Eddie’s eyes, what you represented, and what you thought of life, couldn’t have been further from the truth. In Eddie’s eyes, you were delusional, always seeing the positives in things. Nothing was ever wrong and everyone always deserved a second chance, or whatever.

People like you were simply not made to be friends with people like him.

“You’re staring again,” Gareth muttered.

“She annoys me,” Eddie replied, not averting his gaze.

“Right… okay.”

That was a few weeks ago. Hate, or at least what he believed to be hate.

Today however, well, today, at this moment in time, you were parading around his bedroom wearing nothing but one of his raggedy t-shirts.

(Everything was fucking perfect).

“Eddie—”, Jesus Christ, the way his name falls off your lips is intoxicating, “— where did you put my skirt? I can’t find it anywhere.”

The metalhead chuckles. He slides off the bed and extends one arm above your head to reach for the garment in question.

“I guess I was a little too eager earlier,” he teases handing the item back to you, “I promise to take it off with more care next time.”

“Trust me,” you begin, fingers brushing against his as you take the skirt from his grasp, “I like you eager.”

Eddie’s eyes go dark, although on the inside he’s grinning like an idiot at your little admission. His hands find your waist and he holds you in place as you incline towards him, pressing your lips against his.

There was something about Eddie Munson that always drove you crazy.

It crept up on you, this weird feeling you only ever experienced when you were around the doe-eyed teen. Even before being whatever it was the two of you currently were, Eddie stirred something inside of you that you couldn’t explain no matter how hard you tried.

Obviously, it was no secret that — until recently — Eddie didn’t like you very much. The entire school knew how Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson held some odd unspoken grudge against you.

Which is why when a few weeks ago he was assigned as your partner for a history project, you were excited for the opportunity to find out why, and that was something you simply couldn’t pass up.

The first time you met up alone with the metalhead to work on the presentation, you decided to do so on mutual ground and the local diner was always quiet on a Monday evening.

Eddie was sitting across from you at one of the booths near the far end of the locale. Here the two of you were hidden from the rest of Hawkins, allowing for focus on the project as well as some privacy.

You ordered a strawberry milkshake and a portion of fries. Eddie ordered a burger and a large Coca-Cola.

“I guess we should decide on our presentation topic,” you eventually break the ten minute silence and place a notebook on the table between you.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “Did you find any of the areas we covered in class interesting? ‘Cause we can focus on that, I guess.”

He stays silent.

Instead of replying, he reaches for the inside pocket of his leather jacket and takes out a crumpled piece of paper. You arch a brow but any of the questions that begin formulating in your mind are answered when he flattens the item on top of your notebook.

It’s a drawing of Hades.

At first you’re slightly confused as to the point of him showing you this. Then you’re intrigued because you never knew Eddie could draw and quickly you find yourself wondering if he’s hiding any more talents from the world.

“I know we didn’t cover Greek mythology,” he finally says, “but the assignment doesn’t really specify we need to focus our presentation on what we did in class.”

When you don’t immediately reply, gaze still focused on the drawing in front of you, Eddie thinks he shouldn’t have said anything. Truthfully, at that moment, he couldn’t explain why he brought it up or even showed you the picture in the first place.

He’s about to snatch it back, tell you to forget about the whole thing, but within a split second your hand is on his and he freezes.

“Eddie, this is like really fucking good,” you state and look up at him.

The metalhead smirks because he thinks you’re kidding, and also because he realises he’s never heard you swear before.

“I’m serious, the detailing is out of this world. I can’t believe you drew this.”

Wait, you’re not kidding?

Eddie clears his throat. “It’s nothing special, just a little something I doodled earlier during maths.”

“You did this in one sitting?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing.”

The pure awe detectable in the sound of your voice causes an odd sensation to rush through him. Oh, fuck.

He tries to remember where he is. He tries to remember the situation, the reason why he’s here. He tries to remember this isn’t a conversation with a friend. He tries to remember that he hates you.

He hates you.

And so Eddie grabs the drawing and puts it back where he took it from.

“Are we decided on a concept then?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the sudden change in his tone but don’t question it, after all, you weren’t here to befriend the guy. Not really.

“We’re decided,” you state and scribble a loose topic down before showing it to him. ‘Misconceptions Surrounding the Greek God of the Dead.’

Eddie reads what you wrote aloud and a modest smile circles his lips. “I like it.”

(He hates you.)

By the time a waiter brings over your order, the two of you have the bones of your presentations outlined and Eddie finds himself thinking how surprisingly easy it is to work with you. You’re not as ditsy as he always thought.

“What if we did a little segway to Cerberus here?”, you propose and reach for your milkshake.

He nods and is about to add his own five cents but as he lifts his gaze from the notebook, his brain is suddenly only focused on one thing.

Your lips are wrapped perfectly around the straw, your cheeks are slightly hollowed as you sip on the drink slowly.

Jesus Christ, he thinks and straightens in his spot, this feeling was certainly new.

Once again, he tries to remember how he’s not your biggest fan but this time repeating the phrase in his head doesn’t help. If anything, it makes the whole situation a tad… harder, (because the concept of a hate-fuck is realistly not too far out of reach).

When the image pops up in his head, he hates you and then he hates himself.

There is no way you would ever go that far with him. This was just a stupid project partnership, plus you had a boyfriend. He was Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and you, next to Chrissy Cunningham, were Hawkins royalty.

But his mind is racing with thoughts he’s never had towards you and there is a small part of him wanting — hoping.

You pretend you don’t feel him staring at you. You pretend you can’t see from the corner of your eye how his hand travels to his lap. Mostly though, you pretend you don’t feel the butterflies in your stomach as his gaze burns into your skin.

And you go on pretending the rest of the evening, pretending nothing is out of the ordinary even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The second, third, and fourth time you meet up with Eddie it’s still at the diner.

Mutual ground helps you both focus on the presentation, albeit with every meeting it gets tougher to do so and by day four, only the first twenty minutes are spent on the project. For the remainder of your time with the metalhead, you’re playing ‘20 Questions’ — surprisingly, Eddie’s idea.

You’re learning a lot about him and he’s running out of reasons to hate you.

He’s actually having a good time, something he wasn’t ready to admit out loud just yet, until one of the excuses he always uses against you struts into the diner.

“I’ve come to save you,” the jock states while plopping down next to you.

You shoot Eddie an apologetic glance before turning to address your boyfriend. “I don’t need you to save me, baby.”

(The moniker makes Eddie grimace).

“I’m doing just fine,” you reassure and place a hand on your boyfriend's chest.

He ignores you and leans in to whisper, “I wish you had let me take your place. Don’t like you spending so much time alone with Munson.”

(As if Eddie couldn’t hear every single word.)

“Why? Eddie is great.”

The jock rolls his eyes at your statement and persists with his own agenda. “Come home with me.”

“Baby, we still have a lot—.”

“Tomorrow is another day,” your boyfriend interrupts and shifts in his spot to look at Eddie, “You don’t mind if we leave now, right?”

The metalhead clenches his jaw momentarily. He’s back to hating you because cutting your time together short to leave with your boyfriend shouldn’t be bothering him this much.

“Right,” Eddie sputters before taking a peek at you. He bites down on the inside of his cheek because the disappointed look gracing your features is unmissable.

The next day, Eddie catches you in between class periods and suggests meeting up in the woods at the back of school as opposed to the diner.

He had a whole list of arguments ‘why’ planned out, none of them specifically mentioning that you wouldn’t be bothered there but realistically that was his priority.

Although, you don’t seem to care. You agree straight away.

There was a picnic table not too deep in where Eddie usually conducted business. By the time you arrive he’s already there, scribbling something on the inside of his history book. When he hears you approach, he shuts the item and focuses his attention on you.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” you declare faintly while making yourself comfortable across from him.

Eddie waves his hand in front of his face as if it didn’t matter. “Don’t worry about it. If I had a girlfriend as pretty as you, I too would be concerned if she hung out with some creepy guy every afternoon.”

Did he just…? Oh, fuck. He did. He called you pretty.

It wasn’t intentional. It was true, yeah, but he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Shit. All he can do now is hope that you didn’t pick up on it.

“Eddie Munson,” you begin and he’s holding his breath, “Hawkins is full of creepy guys but you are definitely not one of them.”

He smiles at your words, relieved, and you return the expression.

“Way to boost my ego,” he retorts.

You shrug. “I gotta keep you sweet if I want you to do most of the project,” you tease and Eddie smirks.

Time flies and before either of you know it, evening turns to night.

The darkness brought with it a sense of comfort. Or perhaps the comfort was from Eddie who was now sitting next to you, his jacket draped over your shoulders.

He was resting one arm on the picnic table and holding a lighter, the small flame being the only source of gleam in your current surroundings.

Going home at this hour was definitely the responsible option, but you were both reluctant to bring it up. Instead, Eddie is back to doodling in his history book while you scribble random talking points for your presentation.

“Here,” Eddie breaks what was an amicable silence by ripping out the page he was working on and handing it to you, “For you.”

You drop your pen and reach for the piece of paper in his hand. Eddie scoots a tiny bit closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours in the process, and carefully brings the lighter towards his creation.

“Holy shit,” your voice is a mere whisper as you scan the page, “Eddie, this is—”

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I fucking love it,” you exclaim and tilt your head in his direction, a big grin plastered across your face. “I can’t believe you drew me.”

His gaze locks with yours and his heart sours. Jesus Christ, this feeling was so far beyond hate.

“I gotta keep you sweet if I want you to do most of the project,” he mimics your earlier remark and you giggle.

“Well, it’s working.”

Eddie smirks, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze searches yours, though for what exactly, he wasn’t sure.

And perhaps it’s the way you were looking at him right now, causing his stomach to jump inside of his body, but he finds himself putting the lighter down and slowly leaning in.

(Even in the total darkness, he can make out a certain soft glimmer in your eyes).

The pull he feels is almost magnetic. To say this is wrong on so many levels would be a colossal understatement, but it’s like the world fell away — for both of you.

Heart hammering inside your chest, and a little too lost in the heat of the moment, you match the pace.

His face now inches away from yours, his hands holding onto your sides. As his hot breath hits against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine, you swallow your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck, where you really going to kiss Eddie Munson?

The answer… no.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter against his mouth and pull away from his embrace, “I am so sorry, Eddie. That uh—”, your voice cuts off.

Nervously, the metalhead runs both his hands through his brown locks, almost as if he’s unclear of where else to put them now that he’s not holding you.

“I have a boyfriend,” you chime in a soft whisper. The statement acts more as a self-reminder than anything else.

“You have a boyfriend,” Eddie repeats, a familiar sadness detectable in his tone.

There is a brief moment of silence in which he reaches blindly for the lighter, flickering it on once again.

“We shouldn’t probably get going, huh?”

You nod, unsure of what else to say.

Later that night, unable to sleep because all he can think of is the smell of your perfume and the feeling of his hands on your waist, Eddie jerks off to a picture of you he found in last year's yearbook.

He should feel guilty, he does feel guilty.

Especially when he’s back in bed, after he’s done cleaning himself up, and he shuts his eyes, the sound of your voice saying “I’m sorry.” replaying in his head on loop. He hates himself.

The following morning, Eddie hates himself even more because you don’t show up to the library as previously planned and he thinks it’s all his fault, (he really shouldn’t have tried to kiss you).

He hangs around for an hour, pretending to work on his part of the presentation but in reality he can’t focus on anything. Eventually he decides to leave and after a long day of self-deprecating behaviour, he’s sitting on the steps outside of the trailer with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls, “Suppose you don’t need me to tell you that smoking kills?”

The doe-eyed teen looks up from his lap to see you approach. He hastily straightens his posture and places the single smoke behind his ear as you stop at the foot of the steps.

“Hey,” you say again, only more delicately.

“Hey, yourself.”

Sliding your hands inside the pockets of your cheer jacket, you exhale. “I tried to call you about missing this morning.”

“Shit, sorry. I’ve been kinda preoccupied, only just got home.”

“Right.”

There is a split second of silence. You’re wondering if coming here was a bad idea, while Eddie tries to get his head straight because — and he had to be honest here — did you always look so fucking hot in your cheer uniform?

“Well, I felt bad anyway so I finished the whole thing. I even wrote out your talking points which you can obviously amend as you see fit.”

The corners of his lips tug upwards. “Thanks, y/n.”

He pats the spot beside him and watches you abide without question or reluctance.

“Everything else okay though? You look a little sad.” Eddie asks, nudging your arm.

You swallow and without really thinking, place your head on his shoulder. “That depends if you think my relationship burning down like Starcourt Mall is a good thing or not.”

He doesn’t immediately reply, the revelation settling in. Was this because of what almost happened yesterday? Surely not.

“That sucks,” is all Eddie manages to blurt out because he’d be lying if he said he was sorry to hear.

You shrug against him. “It’s honestly whatever. He wasn’t the nicest of guys anyway. Fell more into the ‘creepy’ category.”

“Then why were you ever with him?,” the question slips off his tongue and he almost expects you not to answer, but you do.

“He showed me attention, I liked that, so the rest kinda took a backburner,” you’re candid, “Guess I just didn’t know any better.”

There is another moment of silence in which Eddie snakes an arm around you and without really thinking, places a kiss to the top of your head. A feeling of comfort once again settles in the air.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie hums.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?”, the question catches him off guard but before he can interject, you continue, “Like, because, because earlier while I was being broken up with, all I could think was how I wished it happened yesterday or the day before,” you pause briefly, “So I-I didn’t have to pull away when you wanted to kiss me.”

Hesitantly, you lift your head and tilt it to look up at him. He catches your gaze instantly and you can tell he’s a tad shocked at your words.

“Does that make me a bad person, Eddie?”

In the space of a heartbeat, his hands are cupping your face and he’s gently pulling you in closer. He’s done hating you. So much so, he can’t even bear to hear the possibility of you hating yourself.

“No, no, no,” he echoes over and over again, until the words fade into nothingness. “I think you’re by far the best person I’ve ever met.” — and it’s true.

Monday morning, Eddie is waiting for you at your locker. When you arrive, he hands you a daisy from behind his ear, one he picked on his way into school.

Your heart skips a beat.

And even though the two of you are on the receiving end of some weird glances from your fellow schoolmates as you lean in to peck his cheek, you don’t care. He may be Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson but he brought you a flower.

The history presentation goes well, better than expected actually. The metalhead thanks you about ten times while you retake your seats, and then an eleventh time with a note containing a quick scribble of Hades with a speech bubble: ‘Couldn't have done it without you’.

By lunchtime, you’re riding such a high, you don’t really think when you pull up a chair next to Eddie. The curly haired teen also doesn’t think anything of it and swings one arm casually around your shoulders, his fellow Hellfire members exchanging confused glances.

It’s not until your clearly bitter ex-boyfriend creates a scene in the middle of the cafeteria, that you think perhaps being around Eddie in this new capacity, so soon after your breakup at that, was a bad idea.

“Wow! Ladies and gentlemen, y/n y/l/n!”

You avert your gaze to the source of the commotion and the jock is glaring at you, a pathetic smirk plastered across his face.

“I would say congratulations, but is it really?”, he taunts, “Can someone truly congratulate a downgrade such as this?”

The whole cafeteria is whispering, snickering, and pointing at you and Eddie.

The metalhead is tense against you. Usually, remarks from the school’s most popular wouldn’t bother him, but this time they’re not only directed at him.

“Hey, asshole! How about you quit showing the entire school how jealous you are? It’s pathetic,” Eddie yells and the entire Hellfire follows with a, “Yeah!”

“Me? Jealous? Munson, I give it a week before she’s back in my arms,” the jock bellows in response and Eddie’s hands form into fists.

He was never one for fighting, but someone needed to shut this jerk up and Eddie’s glad to be the one — anything to protect your honour.

He’s about to stand, teach the guy a lesson or whatever, but you’re faster and before anyone can react, the whole school is a witness to you slapping the Homecoming King of Hawkins High.

“Fuck you,” is all you say before turning around to look at Eddie, who, as if on queue, is on his feet and hurrying in your direction. He’s definitely shocked at what just transpired, but he’d be lying if he didn’t also admit he was quite turned on.

Before Eddie can reach you however, one of the teachers present in the cafeteria, gains your attention and escorts you out, presumably to the principal's office.

The surrounding crowd of people parts like the Red Sea, allowing you to pass through with ease. Noone speaks (too stunned to do so), and it’s not until the door closes behind you, a roar of cheer erupts.

You’ve never been suspended before.

A sense of shame stretches through you. What are you supposed to tell your parents? How do you explain why you are sitting at home the remainder of the week? They’re gonna be so fucking mad.

Shit.

But as you make your way towards your locker to retrieve anything you may need, the feeling slowly dissipates when a certain leather clad metalhead appears in front of you.

“Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?” Eddie takes your hand and brings it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss to your palm.

“Better now,” you breathe out and skew closer so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“Wanna play hookie the rest of the afternoon?” Eddie’s eyes are glistening mischievously and you giggle.

“Well, they can’t suspend me twice but you can still get in trouble, so I’m going to pass,” you say and free yourself from his embrace.

The curly-haired teen groans. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“No, no,” you protest as you open your locker, “I’ll wait for you at your truck while you get the education you rightfully deserve.”

He laughs beside you and is about to say something — probably something witty or sarcastic — when the bell rings. Instead, Eddie gives your arm a pinch and runs in the direction of his next class, only turning around once to blow you a kiss.

When the day concludes, Eddie finds you exactly where you said you would be. He greets you with a swift hug. The glances from fellow Hawkins High students were no longer invasive following the slap earlier that afternoon.

“Controversial, but earlier was so fucking fierce,” Eddie states while starting the car, “I’m like, you got me all excited, shit.”

You giggle and carefully place your hand at the back of his neck, knotting your fingers in between his thick hair. “Well, I’m just glad you don’t think of me any less.”

“Less? Are you shitting me? Sweetheart, I-I think that just made me like you more,” he exclaims, the grin on his face spreading wider, “Man, it makes me wish you slapped the fucker earlier and maybe I wouldn’t have hated you for so long.”

You chew down on your bottom lip, mood changing. “Yeah, about that,” you let out a sigh, “I’ve actually been meaning to ask why you’ve been always acting so weird around me, or towards me.”

He’s taken aback, although he should’ve expected the topic to come up sooner than later. Especially now that you’ve pretty much shown the whole school who you would rather be around.

Yes, he had a whole list of reasons why but they all seem so irrelevant now. They all seem like excuses more than anything, excuses he used against getting to know you because truthfully, he simply thought you were out of his league.

“I guess it was easier to dislike you,” he finally admits.

“Easier than what?”

Eddie swallows before stopping the car on the side of the road and glancing at you. Jesus Christ, he swears he will do anything in his power to ensure you always look at him with that softness in your eyes.

But that was only going to happen if he was finally honest, with you and with himself.

“God, I guess,” he pauses, “The year I was supposed to graduate, I bumped into you one night after a Hellfire meet—”

“I remember that,” you interrupt and his gaze widens. “Yeah, yeah, I remember uhm, I was supposed to catch a ride home with Chrissy after cheer practice but she fell or something so her mom picked her up earlier.”

You string your brows together, focusing on the memory. “It didn’t really stick that I had no way of getting home until I was the last one out and—”

“And the only car in the parking lot was mine,” Eddie finishes your sentence and you nod.

Realisation hits.

A minute goes by, neither of you speaks.

Eventually, the doe-eyed teen restarts the car and for the remainder of the journey to Eddie’s trailer, the air feels heavy. It’s a weird sensation, reminiscent of everything good and bad combined, and it makes you want to scream.

There’s no way a silly call back to something that happened years ago can ruin what’s just beginning. There’s no way, right?

The metalhead is quiet as he hops out of the truck. He struts around the front and opens your door, patiently waiting for you to exit. But he avoids your gaze. He simply shuts the door behind you and turns on his heel in the direction of the trailer.

“Eddie,” your voice causes him to halt.

He takes a deep breath before spinning in his spot to face you one more time.

“Are you really trying to tell me the reason you’ve been openly hating me all this time is because I kissed you that night you dropped me home?”

It made no sense.

“No, I—” Eddie runs a hand through his hair, “— I uh, I hated you because girls like you never actually fall for guys like me,” he exclaims.

“But I kissed you, dumbass!”

“Yeah, and I kissed you back! But by the time I got home, all I could think was ‘She’ll regret it tomorrow.’,” Eddie asserts and you roll your eyes.

“So my feelings about the whole situation were invalid, is that what you’re telling me?”, your voice trembles.

He’s back to standing in front of you. Almost apprehensively, he lifts a hand and gently holds you by the jaw, his thumb caressing along your cheek in the process.

“Like I said earlier, it was easier that way.”

“For you maybe,” you mutter and close your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “That was really selfish, Eddie. What you done, what you been doing since that night, fucking selfish and I-I…”

“I would understand if you wanted to leave right now and never interact with me again.”

You scoff at his words, opening your eyes. “Because girls like me don’t fall for guys like you?”

“Sweetheart—”

“No,” you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back, “You don’t get to sweetheart me as if any of this is okay. You pushed me away then and now you’re trying to do it again. It’s like… It’s like you don’t want to let yourself be happy, Eddie.”

The metalhead exhales, kicking a random pebble underneath his feet.

“I’ve learned a long time ago that happiness is a concept just not available to people like me.”

Your heart sinks. Any anger you were feeling in that moment dissipates and you’re pulling him in by the sleeve of his jacket, wrapping your arms around his necks as he squeezes your frame lightly.

“If you prefer to suffer, I will gladly do so with you,” you murmur into his hair and he can’t help but crack a smile.

Pulling back, he glances down to your lips. His expression slowly changes to a desperate plea, and this time there is really nothing holding you back, so you answer by closing the gap between you.

As your mouth slants over his, a desirable sensation ignites every single cell in your body causing you to close your eyes and push into him further, urging for closenses.

Jesus Christ, he thinks, you taste better than what he remembers.

Eddie’s hands are holding onto your waist, applying enough pressure to make known that they’re there and that he’s not planning on letting go anytime soon. Your fingers tangle themselves in his dark locks, tugging at the curls.

Eager and hungry for more, he bites down on your bottom lip and a delicate moan escapes you. The sound is music to his ears and he hopes he'll get a chance to hear it again.

All of the pent up emotions rise to the surface and explode at once. When you pull away breathless, he smirks with confidence that makes you weak in the knees.

“I like it when you moan against my mouth,” he admits in a whisper.

You can feel the heat rush to your face and your first instinct is to bury yourself in your hands but the doe-eyed teen grabs you by your wrists.

“Don’t go shy on me, sweetheart.” Eddie licks his lips before placing a gentle kiss to your fingers. “I’m trying to tell you I think that was super hot. I think you’re fucking hot.”

“That’s quite the compliment,” you murmur before kissing his knuckles, “Although, if I had to choose, I think I prefer when you call me ‘pretty’.”

It’s his turn to blush. Busted. “You heard that, huh?”

You nod and smile, not feeling so sheepish anymore. “But it’s okay, I can be your pretty girl if you’d like me to be. I mean, I’ve wanted that for like two years.”

Eddie groans and you can feel his dick twitching against you. The glimmer in your eyes is almost wicked and he’s cursing himself for pretending to hate you in the first place.

You were fucking perfect.

“God, sweetheart, if my uncle wasn’t home right now—”

Placing a finger to his lips, you force him to end his sentence prematurely.

“Well, I do have a pretty free calendar this week,” you reveal and intertwine your fingers together, “If you think you can make time for me, we can celebrate finishing the project together, amongst other things.”

He clicks his tongue together. “I don’t know, sweetheart, it could be hard.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics before teasing, “Something’s already hard.”

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goldustwomun · 2 years

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soul meets body (b.b.)

BASED ON THIS REQUEST...

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x gf!reader

summary: you begin to question whether there’s something wrong with you when bradley refuses to touch you, little did you know you’d got it all wrong.

warning: smut, obviously; masturbation, fingering, lots of sweethearts, some jokes; it wouldn’t be my writing if there wasn’t angst so prepare yourself; but a whole lot of fluff & praise to top it all off <3

wc: 3.6k+

note: this is based off of the above request!! fair warning, this is unedited, but it’s my first ACTUAL attempt at smut so be kind xx i literally intended for this to be a short blurb but it ended up being a monster of a oneshot so please enjoy & reblogs are much appreciated :))

update: finally edited :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Check my rules before hand!

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere! Anywhere!” you hurtled back, rifling through your closet for a pair of trousers or sweatpants or– fuck, anything that you could wear to walk out of the door in a more decent state than you currently were, legs on display in the baby tee and frilly panties you had on.

You’d hoped the (admittedly scandalous) look would have tempted him, even a little bit, to place his hands on you. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere and all you did was kiss for a bit – you needed something, anything, and it was driving you crazy.

He’d been avoiding you like a plague anytime you tried to initiate something, whenever your hand crept a little too high on his thigh to be deemed appropriate, or you shuffled back into him when you were in bed together so your hips were pressed close. But he always came up with an excuse – either tired or busy or just not feeling it.

So you were done – done humiliating yourself in front of the one person you used to feel the most comfortable with.

“Sweetheart, stop that,” he chided, voice soft and pleading. He stood by your side, watching as you shoved your foot into the wrong pant hole. Bradley couldn’t help but laugh, hiding behind his fist as you stumbled in between your angry movements, but your hard glare shut him up quick enough as he mumbled a stuttered apology.

“Will you tell me why you’re angry? What did I do?” he asked, and you pointedly ignored him, instead choosing to flip him off as you finally buttoned your jeans and turned towards his room door. You hated how he spoke to you, like you were a little child pouting at the cookie jar.

You’d been spending the weekend at his place like you had countless times before, already having moved some of your necessities into his cupboards and by his sink. There were glimpses of your relationship all over his apartment, and all it did was make you want to rage harder every time you stumbled across them.

“Come on, sweets, please,” he begged once more before sighing defeatedly and grabbing your arms so you’d have no choice but to look at him, explain what it was that had caused such a sudden outburst.

You finally met his stare, taking in his dishevelled state – hair pointing in every direction and unzipped pants that you’d tried to get down minutes earlier. The two of you were curled up on his bed, watching a film like you always did on a Sunday night. Only, Bradley was highly invested in Maria’s singing of “Do, a deer, a female deer” to the Von Trapp children (you had put on ‘The Sound of Music’), but your mind had travelled elsewhere.

You’d let the hand that was resting on his clothed stomach wander, just a little lower as you traced lazy circles into the soft material of his t-shirt. You thought you were being at least minutely discreet as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, mouthed kisses into the sensitive skin there. He’d squeezed your barely-covered hip in admonishment, but it only motivated you to try harder.

Slipping your hand lower, you unzipped his pants, propping yourself up onto your elbow as you breathed, all sultry and hot, into his ear, “Bradley, please, I want you.” You’d thought it was quite good, had read and watched enough to know it was what guys liked to hear. But rather than throw you down on the bed and take you like you wanted, he’d clammed up instead, sputtering on about how he “didn’t think that was a good idea.”

So here you were, caged in by his long limbs and silently fuming. “What did I do?” he repeated. There was a hardness in his voice that told you he wasn’t in the mood for excuses this time. You’d just have to embarrass yourself a little more.

“Is there something wrong with me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. If you said it any louder, you were certain you’d erupt into mortified flames.

“What?” He was looking at you funny, like you’d grown a head or two in the time it took for you to speak.

“I said, is there something wrong with me?” You were more annoyed than upset now, hating that you had to repeat such ugly thoughts of yours.

“No! God, no. Why would you even think that?” His hands moved to hold your face, rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of your cheeks.

“Because you won’t touch me!” you fired back, hating how he’d easily smothered the fire burning inside of you with such little effort. When it came to him, you had no control over yourself. You were like pliant putty, melting in his palms the moment he got close. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for weeks, and– and– you just won’t! It’s like I’m diseased or something, Bradley, and I swear I’m fucking not!”

You were breathing hard, all furrowed brows and pouting mouth. He didn’t say anything in defense of himself and his stupid, infuriating actions, so you continued. “So if I’m not diseased, there must be something else wrong with me, and I’d really like you to explain because it’s getting to be fucking exhausting, and humiliating, considering how much I’ve thrown myself at you!”

He was shaking his head at you and you were struck by the urge to slap the crooked smile off of his perfect face. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You’re fucking beautiful, way out of my league, even. I mean, look at you,” he cooed, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were so, utterly, completely tense by then that you felt the aftershock of his lips zap right between your thighs.

You were fucked.

Except, not really.

“So then why won’t you–”

“Because you’ve never had sex before, and I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be as close to perfect as I could get because you deserve it.” Now it was his turn to flush red out of embarrassment, like he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted his scheme to you.

“I– What?”

“I had it all planned out. Our anniversary is coming up soon, and I have some time off then, so I was going to make dinner, put on a movie, dim the lights a little – speaking of, I was going to install a light dimmer! Looked up how to and everything,” he vented. “I wanted– I want your first time to be something worth remembering.”

You grinned up at him, rising to the tips of your toes as your arms wrapped around his neck to bring the two of you closer. You kissed him long and slow as his own hands dropped to grip your waist. When you broke apart, finally needing air before one or the both of you passed out, you laughed at the confused look on his face.

It wasn’t every day that you had Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw at a loss for words.

“So… you’re not mad?” he offered, pecking your cheek.

“Me? Mad? Of course I still am, but I get it,” you replied, unwinding one of your hands to rest on his chest. “But listen to me carefully, Bradley, because I’m only going to say this once.” He nodded, the picture of concentrated seriousness. “I don’t need dinner, a movie, or dimmed lights. I don’t need something special or pre-planned or whatever you deem to be perfect for me.

All I need is you. I’ll only ever need and want you,” you spoke the words against his lips, fingers already trailing down his front once more to tug at the loose waistband of his unzipped jeans.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, sweetheart, I can do that for you.” He hurtled into action as he kissed you hard and fast, shuffling forward until the back of your legs hit the bed. His hands were in your hair, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you couldn’t help but curl your toes every time he moaned into you, feeling the vibrations rocket through your body.

Bradley shoved you back until you fell against his covers. You laughed at how rushed his movements were, like if he didn’t feel your skin against his soon, he’d collapse in a whimpering heap.

“I fucking love you, you know that right?” He undid the buttons of the obnoxious Hawaiian-printed shirt he had on, throwing it behind your head. He crawled onto his knees, caging you in with his arms and rock-solid body as he left sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collarbones.

You were already shaking with anticipation. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone this far with him – you were a virgin, not virginal. But something about the way he kissed you, touched you, the visceral electric charge in the air – it felt different, and it felt fucking amazing.

“Want these off you,” you mumbled against his lips, pushing his jeans as far down his hips as you could reach. He groaned in agreement, the two of you tearing a part so he could kick them off whilst you tugged your t-shirt off, nipples perking at the cool air.

Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight before him: stretched out in front of him, you lay waiting, in nothing but your panties with miles of skin on display for him to bite, kiss, suck.

He was in heaven, and he wanted to take you there, as well.

Sure, he was staring at you, just about devouring you by sight alone, but you couldn’t get enough of him either, had already reached down between you to slip your fingers under your panties, stroke, slow and deep, against your clit. It took a moment for Bradley’s brain to catch up as he watched you, mouth hung open – either in shock or amazement, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Fuck. That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praised, swiping your hair out of your face as he leaned forward to get a better look at your fingers working against yourself. You were moaning loud, now, crying out his name like a prayer. “Get yourself nice and wet, and I’ll see what I can do about that ache between your legs,” he promised with a short kiss on your lips.

You nodded, stupidly enthusiastic, tugging your underwear down to be tossed aside so that you were bare underneath him. He swore under his breath, ducking his head down to nip at the skin around your nipples before tugging it into his mouth. He sucked and sucked and sucked and – fuck, you could come like this.

“You gonna come, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet, not really.” His voice was deliciously taunting and you did your best to shoot him your meanest glare, but it was hard considering how much you were shaking, hand moving faster and faster as your slick dripped down your trembling thighs.

“Fuck– Fuck– Fuck,” you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. Your unoccupied hand grabbed onto Bradley’s bicep, nails digging crescents into his skin – you wanted to see constellations all across his body by the time the two of you were done.

And you were there, almost. Teetering at the pinnacle of a precipice that you knew would be worth it once you were on the other side, but your mind was going numb and your wrist was starting to get tired, so you pouted up at the fixated man above you, might have begged in between your mindless moans.

The next thing you knew was your hand had been nudged to the side, and Bradleys fingers slipped between your folds, collecting the juices there before fucking them back inside you. You were going to combust, you were sure of it. Fuck constellations on his skin because you were already seeing them against your eyelids as your fingers struggled to remain still, your hips bucking off his mattress the moment his thumb joined in on the fun, pressing against the tight bundle of nerves you could feel throbbing alongside your heartbeat.

You came on his fingers in no time, the two of you panting, hot breaths mingling between you. Bradley leaned down, nipped at your bottom lip as your mouth was left open, too exhausted to even think. He held the glistening tips of his fingers, drenched in your slick, up to your face. Your eyes opened in time to watch him slip them into his mouth, groaning at the heady taste of you, you, you.

“I love you,” you croaked, surging forward to melt against him as you licked into his mouth, tasting all of yourself on his tongue.

“Fuck, that was hot.” His voice was rough like gravel and it grated against your skin in a way you’d never experienced before. You squirmed beneath him, snapping the waistband of his briefs against his hip bone.

“Off,” you commanded, determined to not let the momentum wane. He raised his brow at you, never having heard you so defiant, especially not when the two of you were in bed. You leaned up on the palm of your hand, the other tilting his head to the side as you sucked bruises into his chest, into his collarbone, up his neck. “Please,” you added sweetly, not stopping your attack on his skin.

“Jesus fucking christ– I’ll take them off but you’ll have to stop, sweets,” he grumbled, not entirely wanting you to stop but knowing it was only going to get better. You relented, toppling back with a huff as he stood up and off the bed, pushing his briefs down.

Your gaze went straight to his cock. You could see where the precum was shining against the purple tip, traced your stare across the throbbing vein that ran down its side, mouth watered at the tufts of neat hair at the base. You were screwed.

“That is the plan,” he pointed out, a cheeky grin plastered to his face. You must have said out loud and you retaliated with a kick to his exposed chin. He caught your ankle before you could make contact, clicking his tongue at your inability to sit still. “I won’t fuck you if you don’t play nice,” he scolded, tone unforgiving as he dropped your ankle and instead, reached into his bedside drawer to pull out a condom.

He looked you in the eye as he ripped the packet open, rolling it down his prick in smooth and precise movements. Like before, you really think you could come just watching him. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and this wasn’t the first time you found yourself thanking whatever higher power there was out there for letting you be this damn lucky.

Bradley placed his knee onto the bed, assessing the situation. His cock bobbed, you could tell it was painful from the way his hands were balled in fists and how deep his breathing was, like he was trying to force his body to slow down, to relax – all for you.

“I think–” he cleared his throat, his nerves seeping into his words. “I think you should be on top. You’ll have more control, can stop when you want– go at your own pace,” he stated decisively before joining you on the bed. He laid back against the headboard, holding his hand out so you could slip your legs on either side of his waist.

You didn’t sit down, not completely. “You’re sure about this?” you asked. His mouth quirked upwards as he tugged you closer, your chest falling against his. You could feel his heart hammering through his chest, through your own.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he shot back, palms smoothing idly up and down your hips.

“You know what I mean. We’re a partnership, you and I. I’m sure, just need to know you are as well.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded, met your mouth with his. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m yours.”

Your hands were trembling when you reached for his aching cock, sitting up on your knees, hands wrapped around the base as you angled it to your opening. You were still slick from your fingers, from Bradley’s as well, and fuck were you ready. Ready to be so utterly connected to the one person you loved, the one person who understood you, probably better than you did yourself.

He helped you, slipping his own hand around yours as you sank down slowly. You’d barely gotten past the tip before you stopped, eyes squeezed shut, now from the pain rather than pleasure. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he soothed, placing barely-there kisses against your shoulder as you trembled in his arms.

“Holy sh–shit,” you groaned, not expecting the shooting pain. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, simply holding each other. You could imagine how hard, literally, it must have been for Bradley, but he never let even a flicker of frustration cross his face. He was entirely steady, unwaveringly there for you.

You shifted on your knees, sliding an inch or two down, and Bradley halted your movement with a tight grip on your waist. “You sure you’re good. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He was searching your face for anything, everything – any sign of discomfort or regret, even if it was slight.

“It’s– fuck– it’s fine. It hurts a little less, let’s just try,” you managed to whisper. You took the rest of him, hiding your face in his neck as you did so, as the pain tore through you from the inside out. You knew it was going to hurt but, fucking hell, they’d never mentioned this in health class. You’d had things up there, toys, your fingers, Bradley’s fingers, but this was completely foreign to you.

Throughout it all, Bradley held you close. His words and resolute presence never wavering. And eventually, after what could have been seconds, minutes, hours – you weren’t sure, the pain lessened enough for it to almost become pleasurable. You tested the waters, pulling your hips back, then forward.

The pained groan that fell past Bradley’s hips told you all you needed to know – even if it wasn’t entirely good for you, you’d do it again if only to hear him make that noise again. “Are you okay?” you mocked, rocking your hips, again, and again, and again. He couldn’t speak, mouths forming words that never made it past his lips. His head fell back, hitting the wooden frame as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hips, of your ass, of whatever skin he could grab onto as you rode him.

“You’re going to– fuck– be the death of me, I– shit! – swear it,” he panted, capturing your lips in his. You continued your teasing movements for a while, relishing in the way he held you tighter, moaned louder, gaze darting across your sweat-covered body.

“And if I did this?” you questioned, voice laced with innocent, but your actions did little to reflect that. You gripped his shoulders, raising up until his tip was barely still inside you, before sitting down completely. You gasped at that, cunt clenching around him as the first sparks of ecstasy shot through you. “Oh–”

Bradley grinned that all-consuming smile of his, bent his knees and lifted you up before bucking his hips up, into you. Your mouth fell open at the sight, couldn’t stop yourself from staring at how his cock slipped in and out of you. “You look fucking beautiful, sitting on my cock like that,” he professed, his own gaze locked at where he pounded into you. “And you’re taking me so well– knew you would.”

“F-fuck, Bradley. I can’t– fuck! It’s too much, too much.” Your words were unintelligible as that familiar rush of heat consumed you. You could feel it spreading to the tips of your fingers, to your toes, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You’ve done so well, just let go, that’s it,” he coaxed, fingers returning to your drenched clit as his hips continued their incessant hammering, coupled with the steady strokes of his fingers.

You quivered around him, mumbled thank-yous caught in your throat as your body arched, then collapsed into him. “I love you, sweetheart. Fuck– love you so much.” He kissed his confession into your skin, melting back into the pillow as he clutched you as close as humanly possible.

“What about you?” You lifted your head, vision still swirling from your second orgasm. “You didn’t finish.”

“That’s okay, I’m alright,” he assured, rolling over so that he’d slip out of you. “You’re stuck with me sweets, so we have ages for you to make it up to me.”

Bradley left a comforting kiss on your hip bone, eyes meeting yours as he did so, before he walked over to the bin to peel the glistening condom from off of him. It took him a while to find his briefs, but he eventually slid them on, before venturing into his bathroom.

You were entirely too spent to even pay attention to whatever he was doing, but soon enough, he returned with a wet towel and positioned himself at your waist.

“Just gonna clean you up, then we can sleep some more, sound good?” he offered, carefully wiping at the inside of your thighs and up your slit. He tossed the towel to a distant corner in his room before sliding under the covers, tucking you into his side.

He sighed, sleepy and content. “So, was I any good?” he prodded, smirking down at you.

You scoffed at his easy arrogance, rolling your eyes. “You know you were, Rooster. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am,” he fired back, but kissed the side of your head and relaxed into you, into your warmth.

He wasn’t wrong. You made it up to him the next morning, and the one after that, and the other after that…

Please reblog if you liked what you read :)

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amywritesthings · 6 months

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SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 01.

levi's pov #1. :: a deleted scene from chapter one. this is an alternate pov of levi's first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

happy silver underground eve! i thought i could give you all a little treat for the very first edition of additional SU content. this is a special levi-only drabble covering his pov when james first wakes up. i wrote it to better understand his own head while writing james' pov, but it wasn't necessary for the final draft. apologies for the pain, my dears. xo this is unedited. 1.8k words / angst, language, mentions of self hatred. :: please remember: this is additional content. nothing in the deleted drabbles are tied to the main content/overall final storyline.

He doesn’t bother knocking.

Levi can’t, not when you’ve been awake for twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes where he wasn’t there. Twenty fucking minutes where you were alone, lying in a hospital cot, confused and out of sorts and more than likely asking for him.

He was supposed to be there.

He just didn’t think today would be the day it finally happened.

As he rushes through the hallways of the Trost District hospital, he tries to keep his face neutral. You’re going to need one hell of a recovery period, so he’s going to need to be strong — to hold true to his twilight promises he made six months ago, come what may.

According to Hange, you’d already been gone for several minutes by that time. That didn’t stop him from talking to you through the entire surgery prep process like you could hear him anyway. They’re cutting your shirt now. They’re setting up the blood bag. I’ll sit here all damn day hooked up to it if you need more.

(For someone notorious for silence, he sure had a lot of promises ready on his tongue.)

The door of the medical wing swings wide, and he could fall to his knees then and there: you’re sitting. For fuck’s sake, you’re actually sitting.

You look sickly, disoriented, but your eyes dart across the room towards the sudden intrusion. Your chest rises and falls in your gown. Your fingers are moving just fine.

He can’t say anything — he’s a goddamn coward waiting for the other shoe to drop in this miraculous awakening.

“Captain Levi!”

Doctor Rini’s voice calls to him, but the captain notices immediately that you don’t turn to the doctor. No. Your eyes never leave him, and it’s…

Blank.

Maybe you’re just exhausted.

Maybe you’re not quite here in the present yet.

“Doctor,” he replies, clipped to avoid emotion.

“I sent Nurse Phillipa to find you,” Doctor Rini exhales with anxiety.

“I was found.” Levi locks onto sarcasm as a defense mechanism. If it wasn’t for the good doctor, he’d already have been at the foot of your bedside. Begging for forgiveness is hardly enough. I’m sorry. “So?” I’m so sorry. “Tired of sleeping yet, or are we looking at six more months of winter?”

If you’re James, then you’ll tell him that you’d take another six months to avoid him.

If you’re still you, then you’ll tease that his left hand is trembling.

But you stare.

That’s it — that’s all you do.

Stare, and stare, and stare.

“You only look like total shit,” he continues with a snort, “so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Captain—”

“Apologies for Levi’s intrusion, Doctor Rini.” Your attention turns when Erwin enters the room. Levi almost wants to demand you keep your eyes on him — look at me, James — but the commander speaks for the both of you. “Nurse Phillipa was able to locate me in my office. I had to retrieve Captain Levi personally. Is it alright if we come in, or is she not yet lucid?”

Of course she’s fucking lucid. She’s right here.

Levi takes a few steps forward, tightening his trembling hand into a fist to keep it concealed.

“She is… lucid, Commander.” The doctor stops there. There’s a but coming — he can feel it.

Levi doesn’t like this, not one fucking bit.

“But?” he snaps, glaring the doctor’s way for the first time since he burst into the room.

The doctor sighs with sadness then gestures towards the fallen lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, state your name.”

What?

Levi can’t help how fast his attention whips towards you. His stomach drops to the floor, digging itself into the dirt. You look… scared?

You shouldn’t be scared. He’s here. He promised he’d be here.

“...you originally stated she suffered a major concussion,” Erwin says.

“Yes, I did,” the doctor agrees, “and I also stated on the report that the probability of temporary to permanent post-traumatic memory damage was high.”

You have to be fucking joking.

Erwin states it in plain terms: “In other words, sustained amnesia.”

The fist at his side painfully tightens, his trimmed nails pushing into calloused skin. He sets his jaw, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

“It never said anything about permanent,” Levi growls, pushing forward away from the doctor, away from the commander, to talk to you himself. Erwin’s fingertips touch his shoulder as if to dissuade him, but there’s nothing — absolutely nothing — that will keep him from this.

There’s no way it’s sustained.

Confusion in the beginning, maybe, but you just needed to talk a little. He’d show them both.

The visitor’s chair screeches against the floor until it hits the edge of your bed. You’re still doe-eyed and lost, lips parted like you’re wanting to speak — he can help. You two practically grew up with the same half-baked brain cell.

“Where are we?” Levi asks, leaning forward in his seat. He stares up at you with a hidden layer of affection, willing for the James he knows — the James he’s always known — to see.

I’m here. Look at me, James, I promised I’d be here.

“Levi,” Erwin warns. He doesn’t get it.

Levi nods his chin, albeit barely. “Answer the question.”

You pause, fidgeting in that way when you’re nervous. “I… don’t know.”

“You do know,” he urges.

“I don’t.”

“Where — are — we?”

“Stohess District?” you guess. It’s not that far off. Maybe he’s not being forceful enough.

“Try again, dumbass.”

Wrong idea — your eyes widen like you’d never been more insulted in your life. He’s jokingly called you worse. “Excuse me?”

“Levi.” Erwin again.

Levi refuses. “What’s this building called?”

“I said I don’t know,” you plead, and your voice sounds so small that it breaks his heart.

“Do you know what titans are?”

“Of course I know what the fuck titans are.”

His heart flutters at your swear. You’re not entirely lost. “Good. And do you know what the Survey Corps is?”

“Yes, why does this matter?”

“Do you know where you’re from?” If he wasn’t in control, then he’d reach out to your hand. Cup your cheek. Swear on heaven and Earth that you know this one — you just need a little more time. You need to try a little harder.

Yet your shoulders slack. “I don’t.”

Levi’s face drops, his voice taking a sharper edge by accident. “You do. You just aren’t trying hard enough.”

Maybe insults will work.

Maybe spilling his guts of all of his darkest secrets will help.

He’s a man falling through space and time itself, willing the past not to condemn him right now. He’s sinned a great deal in his life, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer for it, too.

Because you know. You know, you know, you know—

“I am trying, asshole,” you hiss, and his face lights up for just a moment.

There you are. There’s that fire. Fight — fight for this, fight with me, just fight.

“Levi,” Erwin interrupts, “that’s enough.”

Maybe it is enough.

Maybe you can rest and try tomorrow, to let you sit in this mental darkness for a little more time, but he’s waited six long months for this.

“So that’s it, then, huh?”

Levi dares to poke at the wound just one more time. You always worked best when adrenaline courses through your veins. That’s why you two were so perfect.

“You’re going to lay down and happily take being a nameless has-been after being stuck in a coma for months?”

But it was the wrong wound.

He regrets his strategy as soon as you look horrified, and he doesn’t have time to quell your fears. Your trust turns to Erwin for the truth. “It’s been months?!”

The fire dies. You’re terrified in this bed, one hiccup away from a panic attack, and Levi is powerless to fight it for you. Erwin takes over and the captain is glad for it — he’s a stone’s throw away from begging.

Come back to me. It was too much to ask of you, but he was selfish enough to ask on your near death bed anyway. Come back to me, James, or I’ll fucking drag you back myself.

But you’re not you.

You’re not you, and he’s the reason for it.

The captain chooses silence as he watches your face, memorizing the slopes of your face. His heart clenches with the hard decision in front of him: Erwin has a clearer head for this. He’s so blinded by his guilt that he’s already hurt you in the first hour of your revival.

Maybe this is his punishment for dragging you into all of this in the first place.

From the Underground City to Hell on Earth, he is the reckoning of your demise.

I think I’d remember the name of this piece of shit — in this case, you mean him.

You’re right. He is a piece of shit.

He is a danger to you.

You are in the middle of talking to Erwin when he abruptly stands from his chair, the wooden legs scraping sickeningly across the floor. Everything is underwater. He feels like his body is shutting down, so he does what he has to:

He turns to leave.

Facing the entrance, he drops his chin to his chest with a defeatist attitude. “This is a waste of time,” he urges the commander, relenting just one moment where he admits he’s fucked this up.

He’s not the right person for this, even if he’s always been your person.

He’s not the right guide to help you, even if all he’s ever done is hold your hand.

Maybe this is fate.

Maybe this is the second chance he’s always wanted for you — one without the Scouts, without running from the law, without looking over your shoulder.

Maybe Erwin will give you an honorable discharge so you can spend your days in the warmth of the sun.

He could live with that, even if he never sees you again.

“You’re always so quick to walk the fuck away.”

Suddenly his boot scuffs the floor.

His eyes shoot wide, staring at the floor ahead. There’s a splintered floor panel at the frame of the door he’s never noticed in the hundreds of times he’s come here.

For a moment he’s fooled. This could all be an elaborate trick to punish him for the shit he’s done in his life.

(Maybe you do remember, deep down somewhere he cannot follow yet.)

But you were right back then and you were right now: he is quick to walk away—

—if it means that he can't hurt you from this distance.

“I… didn’t mean to say that,” you correct quietly, and his face scrunches to battle the overwhelming bout of grief that washes over him. “I don’t know why I said that, sir. Forgive me.”

Sir.

Not Captain.

Not Ackerman.

Not Levi.

Before he can cause anymore damage, he walks out the door.

Erwin can take it from here.

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #amys deleted scenes.#fic: silver underground #levi ackerman x reader

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yeeehwa · 7 months

Text

Shock and Awe {1}

Mafia!ot8ateez x fem!reader

wc: 2,523

warnings: blood, violence, mc is a badass who does injure ateez, swearing, guns, splinters, gunshots, if i forgot anything please let me know

a/n: This is a post from the result from the poll i posted last week, and i honestly had a lot of fun writing this. this is severely unedited and will be edited either once it's done or the poll decides that i do it. I prefer everyone to go in blind, so there will only be a warning and no summary before every chapter.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

Forks of lightning split the sky, illuminating a shadowy figure for a moment. San jumped, seeing the silhouette out of the corner of his eye as he silently stalked the hallway. A clash of thunder and another flash of the brilliant light illuminated the same space. He stood there for a moment, gun in hand and pointed at the shadows. His pulse quickened as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. After a moment, he shook his head, convincing himself that it was just the dim lighting of the sconces on the wall and the storm playing tricks on him. It doesn’t help that tonight was a big night for all of them.

“Clear,”his voice echoed down the hallway after his moment of hesitation.

You smirked from the shadows, relieved that he didn’t register he had actually seen you. Perched on one of the wooden beams on the ceiling, you observed as more men slunk into your home through the windowed double doors, silently pushing them open. The water pooled on the floor as they shook off their clothes, jackets being shed and left out on the balcony that the doors led out to.

“Let’s get in and out, okay? I hate being here.” Goosebumps erupted over Wooyoung's arms as a gust of wind burst through the room as the doors were silently shut. “That’s not ominous or anything,” silently joking to the others.

The tall man next to him smacked the back of his head, causing Wooyoung to wince a bit and rubbed his head. “Unnecessary.”

“Your commentary is unnecessary. We should’ve left you back with Hongjoong and Yeosang.” Mingi retorted dryly.

Yunhos voice came over their communication link. “I had the urge to shoot you just now.” His eyes looked through the scope of his sniper as he perched from a building across the street. “I almost did.”

Something had tickled the back of your mind at the mention of the names. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch, familiar yet not. You shook your head free of the distraction. It’s something you couldn’t dwell on with intruders in your home.

The group of men, five of them you counted, fanned out, slowly making their way to the intricately carved wooden doors at the end of the hallway. You noted that they knew exactly where they needed to go, and watched as they entered the room, stupidly leaving the doors wide open behind them.

A slight static noise sounded in your ear. “Eyes on the targets?”

Thunder rumbled, making the house shake and giving you the opportunity to respond. “Five of them. Came in through the East wing balcony. Heading towards the Boss’ office.”

“We have eyes Y/N. We know they do too. Stay in the shadows. They’re watching” a pause. When he spoke again, you could hear the smile that he had on his face. “For now.” The static noise was gone after that, contact between the two of you cut for the time being.

Soundlessly, you rose from your concealed position and moved deftly across the wooden beams, mirroring the movements of the men below. Your steps were calculated and precise as you trailed them, keeping pace until they disappeared into the doorway to the other room. As they left your sight, you reached up, extracting the vent cover that opened into the network of air ducts.

“What the fuck are you doing?” HaJoons voice crackled once more, tinged with static.

“What does it look like?” Came your retort, an edge of annoyance mixed in with your response.

A sigh from him triggered a smug look from you. “It looks like you’re about to cause a lot more trouble than you need to.”

You hoisted yourself into the ducts, waiting for another roll of thunder to place the vent back in its proper place. “I’m just following orders.” you began your short military crawl through the ducts. You had the layout of them memorized for years, always using them to your advantage, which is how your family found out you had a natural talent for spying.

Another sigh. “Your orders were to watch and report.”

“I am watching, and I am reporting. I’m not making contact unless told.” You reached your destination, grunting quietly as you maneuvered yourself into a crouching position and expertly removed the vent. “I wait for your signal.” You pressed a button on the side of your comm link and cut contact, until he decided to reestablish it.

“You’re a pain in my ass Y/N, I hope you know that.” His exasperated voice came back.

You rolled your eyes, opting to stay silent and observe, watching as the tense atmosphere of the room under you rose up to your perch. “Boss said if they find the door, you go in and I cut their camera access. Got it?”

Slightly huffing, you nodded slightly, knowing he’d see it, and you heard the background static of HaJoon disappearing, signaling he was gone.

Your head tilted, eyes narrowed and calculated as you watched them examine the room. Large, expansive bookcases lined the walls. Books you knew were all for a show of wealth and knowledge. You had been the only one to really touch and enjoy the books in years. The only sound came from the thunder of the storm that raged outside and the slight shuffling of feet on the floor and them moving things around.

You subconsciously tensed up as you saw one of them get closer to the bookcase that held all your family's secrets. Behind it sat a safe, where endless information about the goings ons in the family, all your safehouses, informants information, etc. were all locked in that safe. You knew countless other organizations were looking for it, trying to take you down and topple your control of the city. These men were no different. Only this time, they succeeded in opening the bookcase. A clicking noise after moving a certain book had you moving into position, and flashing a smile at the cameras, knowing whoever was watching you would see, and pulled your neck gaiter up over your nose. You stood, half of your foot hanging over the edge of the beam, and you let yourself fall.

Yeosangs eyes narrowed at one of the monitors that held his access to the security cameras. “Capt-”

“I know.” Hongjoong walked up behind the younger man, hands resting against his control panel. He examined the monitors that had gone black. “Can you play it back?”

A nod followed, and a series of rapid keyboard clicks resulted in the restoration of the image. The screen displayed their team members. Seonghwa, his demeanor almost nonchalant, kept a watchful eye on the group, his attention caught when Jongho uncovered a false-shelf, showcasing a safe behind it. A series of exchanged glances ensued, but in a small, shadowy area near the ceiling, he saw movement. It was slight, but his heartbeat sped up as his gut told him something was wrong.

He gestured to Yeosang, who promptly put a small earpiece in his outstretched hand. He swiftly inserted it in his ear, ready to give a warning. “Someone is in there with you.”

Yunhos voice came over their link. “Are you sure? I haven’t seen anyone Joong. Even from here.”

“I’m sure. Yeosang and I saw something move on the cameras. You’re being watched.” His eyes stayed on the monitor that he saw the movement in, and he saw it move again, a pair of eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled, almost as if giving it a smile. “Fuck” and then, as if scripted, the screens went dark.

“Get out of there.” Hongjoongs command echoed through all 6 of the links. “Eyes went dark.”

“What about the-” the youngest tried to ask.

“I don’t care about that shit right now! Get out! Retreat! Whatever word I need to say to get it through your thick skull!" Hongjoong's order cut through the tense air, driven by a mixture of worry and exasperation.

All eyes locked on Seonghwa, who nodded once, determination on his face. “Okay. We go. Be ready for anything.” He locked eyes with each of them, and reached for his pistol. The others followed suit, eyes shifting around the room, senses on high alert.

Clashes of lightning briefly illuminated the room. Yunho was having trouble keeping his scope on the others, carefully keeping watch, when the lightning illuminated your figure quickly dropping from the ceiling. His finger was quick on the trigger, and a muffled crack echoed in the air.

Seonghwa jumped, feeling the wind of the bullet whizzing past him. “What the hell Yunho!?”

“Hongjoong was right. Someone is in there with you.” He stopped as he watched you land on Mingis shoulders, wrapping your legs around the tall man and using your weight to propel you both forward. You flipped the large man over, dazing him momentarily, gun clattering somewhere into the shadows.

You used the same momentum to roll yourself into a standing position, which ended up with you face to face with a man with very cat-like features, holding a gun aimed at your stomach.

Your eyes scanned him up and down as everyone froze, the atmosphere tense, and they tried to figure out what to do. Your eyes locked with the man in front of you. The next words that came out of your lips were muffled, but they heard them all loud and clear. “Hey Sannie.” Looking into his eyes for that second, had made that connection click in your mind.

His eyes widened, showcasing confusion at your greeting. You decided to act fast, bringing your knee up in between his legs and wrestled the gun from his grasp in one fluid motion. You turned your back to him as he fell, groaning in pain and holding himself.

The only parts of your face that was left uncovered lit up when a series of thunder and lightning lit up the otherwise dark room. A wicked smile painted your face as you saw the eyes of the others widen.

“Way to make an entrance,” Wooyoungs snide remark made him your next target. You feigned left, and swiftly diverted right, foot making contact with his arm as he swiftly blocked it. His hands wrapped around your ankle, smirking at you as you felt arms wrap around you from behind. They had you locked in an iron grasp, but you smiled, realizing that the person behind you slightly lifted you off the ground, making the foot you had stood on, free to kick.

You kicked Wooyoung in the stomach, eliciting a loud "oomph" as he released your leg and bent over in pain. The arms around you remained locked, but you swiftly dropped to the ground, shifting your weight. This movement loosened the iron grip around you. Thrusting your upper body forward, you flung the other man over your shoulder, and he crashed into one of the expansive bookcases lining the wall. You couldn't help but grimace, silently apologizing to your future self for ruining one of your favorite sections of books.

The hair on your arms stood on end, and a gut feeling urged you to move. You obeyed, and not a second later, a whizzing sound indicated that a bullet had just been fired where you had stood moments ago. You tsked at your assailants and quickly assessed the last remaining man, recognizing him as Jongho. A small knot formed in your stomach as you heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked, its barrel now aimed at you.

"You're going to step aside and let us through," Jongho said with a cold, unyielding expression that tugged at your heart momentarily.

Ignoring the feeling, you rolled your eyes and decided to taunt him. "What's wrong, Baby Bear? Can't face me like a man?"

Internally, Jongho winced at the nickname, a moniker he hadn't heard in years. After they had parted ways, he had made it clear to the others that anyone who called him that would regret it. They had wisely complied. His current objective was to keep you focused solely on him. Your back was turned to the other men you had subdued, but they were slowly getting back on their feet. San was making his way toward the safe behind you.

You smirked at Jongho and lunged at him. Shots were fired, and a stinging sensation coursed through your right bicep, but you pushed through the pain. You had a job to do. Attempting a right hook, you caught him off guard, allowing you to wrap your legs around his neck as you propelled yourself upward. You brought both your hands down onto the top of his head, trying to stun him. He staggered slightly and then slammed your back into the wall, causing books and splintered wood to rain down on you. Gasping for breath, you were momentarily winded by his maneuver, which gave him the opportunity to strike again, this time successfully stunning you.

Behind you, you heard movement and the unmistakable sound of a lock being clicked. Turning your head to look over your shoulder, you saw Wooyoung and San rushing out of the safe, carrying bags slung over their shoulders. They also supported Seonghwa and Mingi, helping them make a swift exit while Jongho remained to deal with you.

Jongho reached up, landing punches on your side and back, causing excruciating pain to shoot down your spine. A slight buzz of electricity had you bracing yourself. The shock never came, but the sensation of being slammed onto a massive desk made the edges of your vision go hazy, and you were certain you blacked out for a moment.

You lay on the shattered desk, feeling tiny pinpricks of pain running down your spine, convinced you'd have dozens of splinters in your back. At some point, your mask and hood had fallen, revealing your face to the men.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, meeting a pair of large brown eyes. Jongho held his side, supported by San, waiting for the others to rush out the door and onto the balcony from which they had entered. Recognition briefly flickered across his face before he turned his back on you, leaving you behind as he limped out the door, favoring one leg.

As the members returned to their waiting van, the atmosphere remained tense. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they grappled with the aftermath of the fight. San broke the silence, asking, "How did they know my name?" The question hung in the air, intensifying the uncertainty.

Seonghwa spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of realization as he stared down at his hands. "It was Y/N."

The van's engine roared to life, the sound of tires squealing on the wet concrete serving as background noise. Each of them was lost in thought, pondering the mention of your name. The rain picked up again, and Seonghwa watched the raindrops slide down the window, wondering how Hongjoong would react to the news that they had finally found you.

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lovedrots · 1 year

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little moments

iii . little moments - p.p. x reader ᥫ᭡

synopsis : you spend the last days of your trip to italy with the boy you admire most. ( includes one-bed!trope and mutual pining )

warnings : creepy pedo old(ish) men, mild swearing, very, very rushed. this is the first time i have written in a while. :( unedited, not proof-read !!

a/n : this is my first time writing in . . . a long time ! so please note that this likely isn’t very smooth, nor is it proof-read / edited. also i am begging you guys to give me requests in my inbox .. i gotta write more !!

word count : 6,921

italy ; 1:56 p.m.

venice was supposed to be fun.

this was supposed to be your opportunity to get away from your parents, to live out your cliche teenage late-night dreams with your closest friend, betty.

but instead, you were stuck trailing her and her new boy-toy, ned leeds.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like ned. no, he was funny. kind. but what bothered you was that he had wormed his way right into the middle of your plans. betty and you had put together list of what you wanted to do: sneak out at night to drink hot cocoa on the roof, pet the pigeons, take every boat you saw … of course, those were all thrown out the window.

and it didn’t really help, that ned’s best friend, peter parker wasn’t around. you hoped that he would at least have his – rather cute – best friend by his side, but it seemed that even he wasn’t content on watching ned and betty suck each other’s faces off.

understandable.

turning your attention from the pale waters, you tried to catch your blonde friend’s gaze – mission failed. you pursed your lip, fingers picking at each other. you were getting antsy, with a need to go something. anything.

“have you guys checked out the saint mark’s basilica yet?” you quipped, sliding in front of them. you were sick of trailing them like a helpless dog.

“doesn’t look fun,” ned muttered, dark eyes glued to betty’s grinning face. and the other didn’t even think it proper to reply. neither of them seemed to notice you, as they brushed past, the girl’s shoulder bumping yours in the process.

your face flushed with something resembling anger – both because of their lack of attention, and the fact that you may have been a little jealous of the couple. just a little. who wouldn’t be? sure, you could say they were just in the honeymoon phase, but the way they looked at each other still had you yearning for more than your life offered. when would you get to experience that? just thinking about it had you kicking your feet, fireworks going off in your tummy.

though you would never admit it, some nights, you would imagine yourself sleeping beside someone. it made you feel … safe, when no one else did.

that’s when you realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks, ned and betty out of sight. you frantically looked around, e/c eyes scanning heads as you stood on your toes. shit. gone.

“lost, amore?” a old, sultry voice rasped. you turned to see a man – likely in his fifties – looking you up and down. though he was smiling, it was certainly nothing kind.

lost? you weren’t lost. just exploring, yeah? you knew where you were; the cream walls, beige roof of the building to your left … the totally familiar waters …

okay, sure. you were lost.

but you couldn’t tell a stranger that!

“no, sir,” you replied, and though you tried to put strength into your voice, it still managed to come out as nothing more than a squeak. “i was just – just looking around. i’ve been here tons of times.”

you began inching backwards, uncomfortable with the older man and unfamiliarity of the situation. though you were sure he had no ill intentions, (were you?) you were rather put off by his use of such an intimate name. after all, you were a teenager; very obviously one, too.

“please, miss! you look –”

you stumbled into a hard surface, warmth seeping into your back, an oomph leaving whatever it is that you crashed into.

you spun on your heel, whipping your head up to look at – peter parker. oh, just the person you needed to see, you thought, sarcasm pounding your head. your gaze shot from man to boy, as if unsure where to focus. you were jet-lagged, disoriented, and maybe a little creeped out.

setting your eyes on peter, you tried to channel your feelings of long (momentary) suffering through the irises. though, in all honesty, you probably looked like a drunken madwoman. but when your e/c eyes met his, the honey-brown so enchanting, you felt a little more secure. it wasn’t quite a warm, safe blanket; after all, you didn’t really know the boy. you’d only watched him from afar. stuffing books in his locker (they often fell out), sneakily mixing chemicals in the lab (you could never tell what, exactly, it was), tapping his foot to taylor swift songs when he thought so one was looking.

yeah, you were smitten.

“sorry mister;” came his wavering voice, “she’s got me!”

sorry? you ‘got him?’ needless to say, you were baffled. never had you ever spoken to the brunette, yet he was acting as if you were the best of pals. you gave him a quizzical look, nearly crossing your arms. but the silence, the bothered look on the elder’s face, had you playing along. “pete!” you choked out, the nickname forcing itself through your teeth, “i was looking everywhere for you.”

“i was down by the – the docks,” he quipped, scratching the nape of his neck. he – rather reluctantly – placed his palm on your shoulder. Though his composure was stiff, and his acting skills horrible, you had no other choice.

feigning annoyance, you crossed your arms, thick brows knitting. “you could’ve answered my texts!” for the fun of it, you fished your cell phone from your back pocket, swinging it between your fingers.

he huffed, tapping his foot. now you were really getting into it, the little squabble. “my phone was dead! you try replying to messages with a pitch-black screen?”

the two of you shot back and fourth for god knew how long, pointing, grumbling, and prodding at each other. To the two of your, your humorous scene was only a few moments long. but, by the time you’d calmed down, laughter at the tips of your tongues, the man had drifted away. last you had checked, he was staring down the two of you with awe and anger, mouth opening and closing each time there was a heartbeat of silence, as if to interject.

the giggles finally bubbled up, leaving your lips in a string of gurgles as you attempted to suppress them. your newfound travel companion, upon hearing your racket, couldn’t help but explode. Peter doubled over, clamping a hand to his mouth, as if to stifle his guffaws; but, it was no use. both of you look utterly insane, like drugged maniacs.

but he thought your laughter was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard.

though, you didn’t know that. you were convinced that you sounded like a crow that had just drunken twelve bottles of whiskey. plus, you were too busy admiring his joy, through the whisps of hair that fell into your face as he chuckles subsided.

you averted your eyes, pupils refusing to shrink back. “thanks. for helping me back there, i mean. that guy was … something.”

he nodded in agreement, a boyish, lopsided grin plastered to his face. “oh, um, anytime!”

you suspected he would be on his way. that he’d turn around, and you would be left alone again.

instead, he analyzed you, head to toe; the hydrangea-print top, the sun-kissed cheeks and nose. you thought you looked like a sloppily put-together mess, but peter thought you looked dream-worthy. “i didn’t know you knew who i am.” he said once he collected his thoughts.

you blinked, your only sign of surprise, ‘till you spoke. “who doesn’t know peter parker? you’re basically the only reason our decathlon team wins every show-down. smartest guy we know!”

was that too much? perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. you only just topped yourself before you could have slipped out something along the lines of, plus, you’re gorgeous. very handsome. i like to watch you in class, you’re so pretty.

but, even when he wore an embarrassed blush on his cheeks, his grin grew impossibly wider, his chest puffing in pride. “i mean – i try. not the smartest, though. try mr. stark. he’s a real genius,” he rambled. “and, hey, you’re pretty smart, too. mrs. warren seems to like you! you always get good grades in her class.”

“you notice?” you rose a brow.

“well, i sit directly behind you, so it’s kind of hard not to listen to it. that’s the only reason. it’s not like i’m a stalker or anything!”

of course, he wasn’t watching you because of some feelings. it was just by chance. if you sat at the opposite end of the room, he probably wouldn’t even know that you’re in his class, for thor’s sake.

needless to say, you were butthurt. but you couldn’t let it show through.

even so, you only found the strength to nod, watching the waters of venice ripple. how could you have gotten your hopes up? you rubbed your arms, droplets of the rivers spraying them with each crash of the tides. you hated the silence. it was your chance; your chance to prove that you were worth becoming friends with. but your awkwardness, your shyness, kept you from saying a word.

you looked up at his face, expecting him to be looking right back – but instead, those puppy eyes were glued elsewhere, to the dark wood planks at your feet.

maybe, he was as nervous as you were.

you cleared your throat, shifting your posture a few more times than it would be, if you were casual. “you haven’t got anyone else, or any plans right now … right?” you tried, foot tapping.

“No, no no!” he quickly ushered, hands that were once behind his back now set in a defensive position. “none at all. i just wanted to walk around, y’know?” he bit his already rouge lips, the action only emphasizing the color in his face. “d’you want to join me? if you don’t, that’s fine! i mean, we only just really met, and it might seem kind of weird. not that i’m weird. am i? i don't think so, i just –”

oh, you were helpless for this man. the way he went on a tangent, deep eyes sparking, you had fallen far before you could really acknowledge it. your stomach was doing summersaults, head feeling light, but not quite dizzy. when were you going to wake up from this dream? you wanted to pinch yourself.

“oh, no, i’d love to . . weirdo,” you added with a quick wink. you weren’t flash, after all; you’d never intentionally bully the poor guy.

peter shook his head, curls bouncing as his face contorted further into a content happiness.

you slipped your phone into the front pocket of your jeans, slipping past him to launch into a slow stroll. you almost instinctively reached out a hand for him to take, as though to guide him, but you pulled away as quick as it came up.

the two of you were oh-so close, shoulders nudging every so often as you walked. it wasn’t always this way; at first, you’d been feet upon feet apart. but as you spoke, you seemed to gravitate towards the enter – or, towards each other.

“but, blueberry pie has such a good balance of sweetness, and the texture is so much more . . it’s just nicer!” you insisted, upon peter bringing up his favorite pie.

“but –” he countered, “that place down the street from delmars? best cherry pie ever.”

you shrugged, mocking offense. “well, i’ve never had it! how should i know?”

he scoffed, hand to his heart. “fine. when we get back from europe, first thing we’re doing? i’m taking you there. and ordering two slices of cherry pie, extra ice-cream.’

if we even make it that far, you wanted to mutter, but held your tongue. instead. you jabbed at his shoulder. “yeah, yeah. i’m holding you to that.”

your bantering, since the little skit you put on, never seemed to stop. but your differences never made your heart beat less for him; it only made you more curious. one of the most interesting, being his view on heroes in comparison to yours.

“i appreciate them; i do,” you had said, “but they can’t save us all. kids still go missing. murders still happen. it’s impossible to stop.”

“but they try! they’re humans, too,” he countered. though his tone was harsher than you were used to, you didn’t miss the kindness, the understanding, in his eyes.

“i know,” you said softly. “but – they always say they’re going to ‘save everyone.’” you paused, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “it’s – it’s why i like spider-man, actually.”

you found it curious, how his eyes widened, and his cheeks grew crimson. “what do you mean?” he squeaked out.

“well; he’s not like those other heroes. he looks out for all of us. robberies, drunk drivers … stuff that most of the avengers wouldn’t bother watching out for. i admire him.”

“somebody’s gotta watch out for the little guys,” he murmured as if you couldn’t hear. and those words, stuck in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

somebody’s gotta look out for the little guys, huh?

italy, 6:34 p.m.

it was dusk, by the time you had left again. hours before, peter parker had walked you to your hotel, where you weren’t surprised to find betty missing. likely with ned, peter had scoffed. you nodded, shrugging. at least you has some peace to yourself. you had shared an awkward moment before he left; he had gone in for a side-hug, while you had expected a full-on one. this had both of you struggling to find a comfortable way to meet, before you settled on a less-than-shitty … fist bump. yeah. a fist bump.

you groaned at the memory, shaking your head. you needed something to clear your head. and that ‘something’ was a boat ride!

you wove through the busy streets, eyes glued onto the boat-stop, humming with delight as you watched one pull into view and –

“rose, lovely?”

you jolted once more, struck into reality as a man in a cap resembling a beanie held out a singular red rose. you shook your head, cursing yourself for not avoiding the packed walkways.

“american, yes?” he tried again, signaling the flower in his hand with the dip of his head.

opening your mouth to offer a curt reply, you instead felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “um – hi, sorry to interrupt, man. y/n?”

you quickly spun to see peter parker behind you, yet again. “peterrr … hi!!” you quipped, a fake grin splat on the panes of your face.

“hey,” he smiled back, sliding his fingers from your shoulderblade to your hand, entwining them with yours. “let’s get our boat, yeah?” he gave your hand a gentle tug towards the dock, his other occupied with a small pale bag, making a point to raise the one holding yours just enough for the capped boy to see. and, though you shouldn’t have, you squeezed his palm just a little tighter. to remind the fluttering of your heart, that it was real.

when you sat on the slick bench of he raft, peter, alarmed by the pools of water on said bench, shrugged his jacket off, swiftly placing it where you were aiming just before you took your seat. you gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “i just – i just didn’t want your jeans to be ruined! they’re pretty.” his voice wavered, soft.

his little display of respect had you over the moon. and though everyone else was out of sight, you hadn’t let go. side by side, hands clasped, the two of you seemed to look opposite ways. you towards the city lights, and peter towards the open waters. but, in reality? you were looking at each other when the other turned away. it was like a game of whack-a-mole, to catch one another red handed. the few times your eyes met, you felt your skin ignite.

the entire ride, not a word was exchanged. but you never moved away. you would feel the occasional squeeze to your hand, which you would respond with one of equal gentleness. They seemed to communicate, ‘is this okay?’

it was short, sweet, the crossing not lasting anything more than ten minutes. when you stepped out, you seemed frozen. his irises, illuminated by fairy lights, were so sweet, like pools of milk chocolate.

but, nothing good lasts forever. the worker on the boat coughed once. twice.

right; money.

you slid your hands into your pockets, grabbing from your wallet … but the boat as gone as soon as you looked back up. peter was sliding a wrecked, leather-bound square back into his pants. you sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. “oh, please. you couldn’t have let me pay you back at least once?”

“pay me back for what?” he asked innocently.

you scoffed, dropping the wallet back where it came. “yeah, yeah, mister hero …” you shook your head, though you could feel tingles of a smile warping the edges of your lips. he had let got of your hand to pay, and though it did not find yours again, you could feel the ghost of his touch linger on your skin. “we have got to stop meeting like this,” you added, referring to the assistance he offered you. two times, now, had he led you away from odd men in this foreign land.

peter shrugged, fiddling with the handle of his paper bag. “at least i means we meet, somehow.” though his words came off as casual, there was a strain in his voice. as if he wanted to say more. “besides; if i didn’t turn out, where else would you be?”

rolling your eyes, your eyes followed the sun, watching it sink below the horizon. “i had it covered …” but, upon seeing his face drop a fraction, you felt yourself soften like warm wax. “okay, maybe i didn’t. you saved my ass, i admit it.” you rose your hands in surrender, a tight-lipped beam lighting your face.

he seemed to perk right up, like a dog receiving praise, posture straightening with delight. you could practically envision a wagging tail.

and you didn’t mind it, when your fingers drifted into his once more as you led each other back to where your class was gathered.

italy, 2:12 a.m.

you kicked your feet beneath the thick bedsheets, the absence of your friend hitting you like a ton of bricks. originally, the two of you planned to stay up late in face-masks, drinking smoothies and eating chocolates. but, where was she now?

with her new boyfriend, obviously. and thor knew how the hell betty managed to sneak into his room.

actually – never mind. your teachers were too much of a deadbeat, to pay attention to the lot of you the middle of the night.

you wrestled with the duvet for a few more moments, both hot and cold wrecking your body. blanket on? too hot. blanket off? too cold. how did people even manage, in such conditions?

you felt your feet touch the fuzz of your slippers as you swung up, laced night-dress crinkling against linen. you wanted to sleep, so badly, yet it never came. each time you closed your eyes, stars would appear, and you would replay your walk home with peter in your head. it was all so strange. you had met only today, really, and it felt like he was your ‘soulmate.’

or, maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that things could work out between you and the coffee-eyed boy.

you kicked your legs, emitting soft thuds to the mattress, unsure of what to do. you’d tried listening to ambience between the time of 1:34 to 1:56, but that didn’t seem to work, though it often times did. you also attempted the classic, ‘counting sheep.’ but, when does that ever really work. you even got so distracted, that you had begun to name the damned sheep that were jumping over your little imaginary fence.

your personal favorites were sir mcwooly and baaa-rney.

toddling over to the small desk by the hotel’s queen’s bed, you rubbed your arms, feeling the goosebumps spiking up on your skin. you sat on the swiveling chair, the small lamp as blinding as the sun when you turned it on. you seethed, squinting as you made a grab for the miniature sketchpad and pen assortment you had packed

you scribbled away, filling pages with tiny stars, before your hand began to flow out portraits of your friends. first, betty; with her shining blonde hair, her sugar-sweet grin. you doodled her and ned, despite the small crack in your heart at the thought of them so happy together. you drew them on the flight together, when you had been kicked out your seat to sit behind them, watching the new couple giggle through the cracks. you added little notes, complaining about their mushiness, about how empty they made you feel.

Needless to essay, the page was ripped from the booklet.

your pen found it’s way to paper once again, this time, the lines forming the familiar silhouette of peter. you started with his doe-brown eyes, making emphasis on the shining in them, the familiarity. though you enjoyed drawing each part of him, something about those eyes had you grounded to them. and it showed; when you were finished – or, more specifically, you noted how cliche you were acting – anyone could see the emphasis you’d placed on his irises. darker than all else in the portrait, white cut-outs of hearts and stars, if you looked close enough, bright against the ink.

you shook your head, gingerly, not to break the paper, tearing the page from the notebook. you set it aside, atop your previous project. the cold was getting to you; you were shaking like a wet dog, and, god, did you feel like you were sick. the small blotches of pen-gel on your hands didn’t help the look. it was like you were catching the plague.

padding for the suitcase propped against the wall, you dug through it, slipping a alpaca-fur sweater over your head. it would leave a mess of hairs, later, but in the moment, it was worth the suffering.

only issue was, your hands were still cold as ever. but you knew just what to do.

italy, 2:59 a.m.

the aroma of milk chocolate wafted through the room, the small kitchen’s floorboards creaking as you twirled and bobbed your head like a bird. you had your earbuds shoved deep into your ears, ramones blasting through the tiny speakers. you were careful to avoid the odd, slimy bits in the floor. though venice was a beautiful city, your academy didn’t seem inclined on letting the lot of you stay in a nice hotel.

whatever; the trip was free, anyways. you’d take what you could get.

you dipped your spatula into the thick, italian-style cocoa, buzzing with delight as you licked a speck of the liquid from your finger. heavy, yet delicious. even just a drop, was like a cup’s worth of flavor of those sad, little packets of hot-chocolate at home.

you poured a bit of the mixture into a small mug, surprised to find a good half of it left in the pot. you groaned, realizing that you did not, in fact, have a personal fridge to store the drink in for later. and you didn’t trust anyone from your class to not steal it from the hotel’s storage unit, if you chose to keep it there.

you’d have to gulp down the whole damned container. it was like sipping on melted-down icing.

you absent-mindedly poured the rest into a matching cup, grumbling at the spare dish you’d clean. you whispered the lyrics to the song playing through your ipod, foot tapping – rather noisily – on the old wood planks.

but, your peace was short-lived.

a small voice seemed to echo you, repeating the very lyrics you thought only you could hear. you pulled one of the buds out, head whipping about until you came face-to-face with peter, who was leant against the cracked doorframe, muttering to the very lyrics you were whispering.

you froze up, quarter-full pot in hand. like a deer in the headlights. “a ramones fan?” you squeaked out as soon as you remembered that you had a voice.

“yeah – yeah. they’re cool,” he replied with equal eagerness. though he made an attempt to look casual, the constant shift in position and blush staining his cheeks opposed it. “how many song d’you know?”

“not many. this just showed up on my playlist, i guess,” you clarified, not quite meeting his gaze.

“oh! that’s fine. music is kinda subjective. and the ramones aren’t exactly in style now, so –”

you cut the poor boy off with a chuckle, holding out a cup of chocolate to him. “now, don’t undermine your tastes over me. hell, i’d be happy to listen sometime.”

“really?” the panes of his face seemed to heighten with joy. “awesome. people don’t usually .. they don’t tend care about that, y’know?”

you nodded, letting go of the mug as he took hold if it’s handle, fingers brushing yours with a spark. “it’s the little things that matter, though. i mean, imagine having someone who just knows everything about you like that?”

he gazed into the cup with wonder, as if pondering your words. “yeah … i mean. it would be easier than having to explain every little thing to ned,” he stuffy joked, scratching at his neck (again; a habit, it seemed) as if there was a switch to turn his awkward energy off.

you gave a polite giggle, leaning over the dusty counter, drink in hand. this silence seemed to be a reoccurring thing between the two of you. you would look anywhere, but each other, until you caught one-another red handed in the act. each time your eyes met, you melted a little, seeing the warmth behind them. and a sprinkle of something else. something dark. lonely. sad.

peter cautiously swiped a tinge of chocolate from the inner rim of the pot, tasting it, with a hum of approval. he took a soggy paper towel off the rack, wiping his fingers free of the sweet treat, before clearing his throat once. twice.

you looked back up, watching him frantically digging through the pockets of his jeans; front left. front right. back left. back right.

… the item he was looking for was, actually, in his hoodie.

when he at last came across it, a wide grin spread across his face, a depiction of relief. you caught a glimpse of red, shining against the soft light of the kitchen lamp.

“turn around?” he pleaded, fiddling with … whatever it was.

though you weren’t sure if you could trust it, the innocent, hopeful look on his face had your knees weak. so you obeyed.

you nearly gasped as you felt warm, calloused hands caress your neck, shifting your hair over your right shoulder. and as, in contrast, a cool metal chain was placed around your throat. as he clasped it together, he seemed to linger there, hands unnecessarily raking through your strands.

not that you minded.

you took the jewelry – a necklace – between your fingers, heart puddling to find a rose made of red glass resting on your skin. “oh, pete … why?”

“i just – i-admire-you, you-know? i-mean,have-you-seen-how-you-work-in-decathlon? or-how-you-help-mrs. warren, even-though-she-can-be-a-little … difficult. not-that-she’s-bad! no! and, um. you’re-gorgeous. not-in-a-creepy-way, but – still. yeah.”

boy, was he out of breath. you could barely understand a thing he said. “peter … i seriously didn’t catch a word of that. slow down, yeah?”

his cheeks grew scarlet as he nodded. “i was just saying that i, kind of, admire you i guess?”

you blinked, fingers that were fidgeting with the bud now frozen. “you admire me? peter parker? well, i must’ve done something right,” you laughed – not quite understanding that his words were, actually, a confession, and not words similar to that of a student and a mentor.

you didn’t catch the grimace of disappointment that passed over his face.

“right … yeah. of course,” he assured, taking a large step back. did your breath smell? you pondered, shoulders tensing. but he only padded to the spare cup, giving you a look of inquiry – to which you nodded – as he picked the ceramic up, taking a swig from the thick drink. you grinned as he pulled away from the mug, upper lip lined with deep brown.

“you’ve got something there,” you quipped, jutting your chin towards his face. he took a swipe at his mouth, missing the small puddle by an inch or two. again. again. by the time he’d given up, you were struggling not to spill your hot chocolate as you guffawed. you tip-toed to his silhouette, napkin in hand, and quickly swiped the dessert off his skin. “there, dork. all fixed up,” you declared.

the smile on his lips quivered, as though to keep it from turning into a full-on, toothy smirk. you lingered, body soaking up the heat radiating off of him. how you longed to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. and oh, gods, how he smelled. warm apple pie, laced with fresh rain.

you wondered if he tasted just as sweet.

but you couldn’t think that way. you shouldn’t have. what you wanted, what you knew, was nothing more than a fantasy. you only ever watched peter parker from the sidelines. hell, you didn’t know what his favorite food was. his favorite colors. all you knew was his favorite subject, how he tugged at his curls while we was stressed. the way he bounced his leg as your teacher spoke, pink lip tugged between his teeth. though, you could never really tell if he was really focusing; the boy’s eyes were always glossy, clouded. like he wasn’t really there. at this point, you were confident he lived inside his laptop screen.

except for the fact that he answered every damned question he was asked.

seriously, it had you rethinking your own intellect.

you didn’t grin back, your own foolishness taking a toll on your mood. you stumbled your way to the sink, his heat leaving your body feeling empty. setting your mug down with a clunk, you couldn’t meet peter’s curious gaze. “i’ve – got to sleep. early day tomorrow, yeah?” your voice was weak, no matter how hard you tried to bring humor to it.

and as you tuned to leave, what you didn’t catch, was the crushed look on your love interest’s face.

the moment you had reached your hotel, you were rather dejected to see betty missing. you scoffed, face-planting on your side of the queen-sized bed, right hand unconsciously shooting up to protect the glass art around your neck from the harsh impact. you gripped it just a fraction tighter as you sighed into the pillows, the heaviness of silence dragging anxiety from the depth of your heart.

it took you a few minutes, to find the strength to get up. but when you did, you slipped into a silken night gown, wrapping your skin in a thick robe to protect it from the cold air. your face was slathered in a gray mask, hair pushed back by a baby-blue headband. you could feel the clay on your face drying, sending a strange tingling sensation through your flesh. ick.

your eyes welled with disappointment as you stared at yourself in the mirror. were you selfish, for wanting your best friend back? you were supposed to be doing this together, face-masks and all. but instead, you had been abandoned for some guy. you blinked back your worries, determined not to let your sullied mood ruin your almost perfectly dried clay. instead, you took a deep exhale, eyes trained on the knob of the hotel’s front door.

it was as if you had summoned it with your eyes; a sharp, quick knock at the dead of night.

you blinked, almost confident that you had been hearing things. but it came again, once. twice. three timed, before you approached it, scowling. if she was going to stay so long with her boyfriend, why come back now?

“you should have just stayed where you were,” you bit out as you swung the door wide open, huffing. your voice was venom, and deep down, you were sure you’d overreacted. but you were hurt. “really, bett! it’s – what – three in the –”

were betty’s eyes always such a deep shade of brown? you didn’t remember her hair being so short.

oh.

you blinked back your angry tears, wishing you could take each little word back. you’d been a fool, for lashing out at your friend – much less, the wrong one. you rubbed your eyes, barely missing the crusted clay inches beneath. “peter?” you coughed.

“bad timing?” he swallowed, taking a step back from the door; an offer to leave, if you so chose. you felt your heart crack, just a fraction, as you shook your head quickly, opening your door a bit wider.

“more like, bad situation,” you shrugged, far too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “what . . .” you continued, “what are you here for?”

peter’s mouth pinched, as if he was thinking carefully for his next line of words. “i got kicked out,” he finally admitted, a sheepish grin pulling at the panes of his face. “betty took my side of the bed, and i didn’t really want to listen to them flirt all night.”

you giggled, a warm rush coating your skin as you nodded. “you should have seen them earlier,” you replied, spirits lifted with his caring presence. “i couldn’t even get a hold of the girl, for god’s sake. she’s infatuated.” you took a deep breath. the memory wounded you, but it felt nice – to laugh about it with someone who understood. “did you . . want to come in?” you finally asked after a heartbeat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. you looked like a grizzly bear, in your fluffy turtleneck and your dark clay mask.

but he didn’t seem to mind. hell, little did you know, he thought you looked beautiful. sure, he enjoyed watching you from his seat in chemistry. enjoyed gazing at you as you bit your lip while working through an equation, or how you raked your hand through your hair idly, when your fingers had little to do. but above all, he enjoyed this the most. you, in your rawest, most natural state.

“yes. yes, please,” he quipped, slipping past you, into your dimly lit hotel. you trailed after him, the air far heavier than it had been moments ago. what were you to do? the boy you’d been eyeing for ages now stood in the center of your room, looking lost and helpless.

sucking on a tooth, you sighed, “just . . . sit, yeah?” you pulled out the office chair to your right, rolling it just behind him, like the gentleman (gentlewoman, you supposed) you were. “i’ve got to wash this—“ you gestured to your skin, caked in product, “—off my face.”

you excused yourself with a forced grin, despite the butterflies in your stomach. even if you were happy, you were far more bashful than anything else. you gazed into the mirror as you shut the bathroom door behind you, noting the texture of your skin, the dryness of your lips, the bags beneath your eyes. you looked like the devil herself, ruined and exhausted.

you gently scrubbed the mask off, turning the mini-towel you had brought a light grey, so as not to irritate your skin. you didn’t want to teeter out looking like a seeded strawberry.

once your skin shone with water, not a trace of dirt beneath, you dug through your bag for a plethora of items; chapstick, moisturizer, a nightgown, a hairbrush . . . it took you little over twenty minutes, to took anything like the girl you were, this morning.

slipping out the washroom, you tugged at the sleeves of your nightgown, the beige a contrast to the deep red trousers he had chosen.

“so!” you clapped, falling back onto the plush mattress of the hotel bed. “you can take the bed, and i will take the . . . couch.” though it was soggy, and looked a strange color, you couldn't bear the guilt of making him sleep on it. he’d already been kicked from him own room, for christ’s sake.

you had expected relief to wash over his face, but instead, he panicked. “no. no! i can’t let you do that,” he gave you a pointed look, his eyes darting between the cushions and you. “i intruded. i’ll take the couch,” he announced, sitting up a bit straighter.

you were having none of it. “oh, please. you cured my loneliness. i wasn’t the one who got kicked out of my own hotel, was i?”

the brunette’s lips tightened, as though he was about to give in. you watched him hopefully, your tummy fluttering with absolutely glee as a sigh loosened. “yeah. yeah, okay.” he broke out in a grin, and though it looked sweet . . . mischief lurked beneath it. “if,” he continued, peter’s nervous aura replaced with a sly air, “and only if you’re willing to share. i know those couches suck, probably full of germs and mold . . .”

you cringed, remembering the soggy floorboards and furniture of the foyer. did you really want to sleep on . . . that? you could already feel the stale, reeking water encasing your arms. shaking your head, you finally replied. “you’re . . . awfully stubborn. fine. only because i can’t stand the smell.”

the boy before you, however, seemed taken aback, cheeks glowing a red hue. had he not expected you to agree? you stifled a giggle behind a cough, padding to the bed, testing the springs of the mattress with your fingers. “are you tired?”

“very,” he admitted, wincing. “being out all day . . . yeah.”

“right.” guilt washed over you. it was your fault, wasn’t it? you had wanted to explore, and he complied, for your benefit. you sat, patting the space to your right. “please, sleep. i’ll be in soon! i just need to text bett.”

he looked up at you curiously, honey-brown eyes sparkling in the dim light.

you giggled, resisting the urge to ruffle his already-messy hair. “i don’t want her coming back in te morning to a boy in my bed, with no explanation.”

“oh. oh.” his expression as it kicked in, had you rolling. he was distressed, burning up, his words incoherent and quick as lightning. you – gently – slapped his shoulder.

“get your mind out of the gutter, and go to bed,” you ordered, leaping to your feet to retrieve your phone. you could hear the rusting of duvets and sheets, as he settled in. and only then, did you let yourself really think. you had just invited your gods-forsaken crush to sleep in your bed. with you in it. you were so wound up in nerves, you didn’t even text your friend. you doubted she’d even come back, anyways.

so you simply stood there, for a few minutes, simply . . . watching. watching the way his lashes fluttered, the pattern of his breathing. he fell asleep widely fast, already steady and deep in his dreams. you tip-toed back, until you were slipping into the now-warmed cotton, humming in content. the sound of his breaths, his subtle heartbeat, lullied you to sleep like a sweet song.

the last thing you felt, that night, were his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

italy, 9:34 a.m.

it was cold, when you woke up. freezing, in fact. that human warmth from the night before . . . it was gone, but what did you expect? a romantic morning-after scene? you two hadn’t even kissed for christs sake.

you laid there, feeling defeated. had you just made things awkward, between the two of you? would you ever get to speak to one another again, or would he avoid you? but, eh wasn’t like that, was he? no, he was kind, and sweet. and he wanted to share, no? he offered, and you accepted. he couldn’t do this to you.

almost an hour passed before you got up, soles of your feet warm against the ice-cold flooring.

and that’s when you saw it. a single note, crumpled and messy, on your nightstand, amongst the pile of drawings – a few missing, you noticed. his.

oh, shit.

you picked up the sheet of paper, eyes scanning the pages, reading each syllable aloud to yourself.

“you know, it’s rude to draw someone without showing them. i’m awfully offended, and am keeping these!

. . . not because i don’t like them. i love them. a lot. god, you’re talented. they’re cute.

i would have stayed. i wanted to. but i had an emergency, from mr. stark, and didn’t want to wake you with a call, y’know? please don’t be upset. i liked last night. i haven’t slept so well, in a while. maybe it’s a sign we should do it again? if you wanted? maybe?

– peter.”

perhaps this trip wasn’t so bad, after all, you decided as you tucked away the sheet. you’d keep it forever, if you could.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #tom holland

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storiesforallfandoms · 6 months

Text

look at me ~ bo burnham

word count: 2323

request?: yes!

“so you already know that inside: the outtakes has gotten so many people back into their bo thing. me included. sooooo i was thinking, he’s a big guy, ya know👀 so my lil brain was doin some thinkin (not at all while horny) and it came up with this: bo fucking you in front of a mirror!! he’s holding you up, fucking you from behind, saying things like ‘look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock’. just, please please please do your thing and make this something great🥹”

description: after a long day of filming his special, he finds himself pent up and wanting to release his aggressive sexual energy, so he decides to take his girlfriend in the first place he finds her: in the bathroom in front of the mirror

pairing: bo burnham x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two, three)

Bo had a lot of feelings surrounding the filming of his quarantine special. At first he was upset over having to cancel his plans of returning to live performances, but then the idea of filming, editing, directing, lighting, etc., his own special seemed exciting. And getting back into writing comedy felt almost therapeutic. The longer quarantine went on, though, the more his mental health struggled. He was enjoying creating, but he hated that this was how he had to create. And he hated how much he struggled to make everything perfect.

But more than anything, he was unbearably horny. To a point where he was writing extremely horny bits into the special.

It was his own doing really. Bo would spend every day - from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep - working on the special. Most nights, that was late enough that his girlfriend, (Y/N), would be fast asleep. Other nights, he felt too mentally exhausted to try and initiate sex.

He felt guilty for the quality time he was losing with her by working all day, but (Y/N) was incredibly supportive. She would check on him every day to make sure he was doing okay, occasionally bringing him food so he would eat. She’d get him to take little break every now and then before going back to long hours of working on the special. Bo felt extremely grateful to have her in his life. But man, did he ever miss being intimate with her.

He was sat in this guest house one evening, editing his most recent bit, which was a song about sexting. His mind was on (Y/N) as his own voice played through the speakers. He thought about how badly he wanted to hold her, feel her body against his, her warm walls around him. His horniness was definitely trickling into his work and it was something he needed to fix soon or else he felt like he might explode.

Bo stood and looked out the window that faced towards his house. He could see a light on in the room that belonged to him and (Y/N), signaling that she was still awake. He quickly rushed out of his guest house, leaving the unedited song running.

(Y/N) was in the ensuite bathroom getting ready for bed. She had peaked out to the guest house to check on Bo. The lights were off besides a dull blue light that she assumed was Bo editing another bit. She had sighed to herself before going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. As proud as she was of Bo for working on this special all on his own, she really did miss getting to spend time with him. Their bed felt too empty without him.

She was leaned over the sink, washing her face, when she suddenly felt two arms wrap around her. She let out a yelp and stood up quickly to see Bo’s towering figure behind her in the mirror. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, lightly kissing the area, causing her heart to flutter for a different reason.

“Hey,” she said. “You finished up early tonight.”

“I can’t standing being away from you anymore,” he responded. “It’s getting too hard to not have you in my arms.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s hard,” she teased.

Bo chuckled and grinded his hard, clothed dick against her. “You got me there.”

He continued to kiss her neck as he pressed himself against her. She lulled her head to the side, giving him more access to her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed. His hands moved from around her waist, one going upwards to cup one of her breasts and the other moving down between her legs. Her breath hitched as he teased the waistband of her pajama pants.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over her ear in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded in response. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Bo.”

Bo grinned and nibbled on her ear as his hand dipped under her waistband. He ran a finger through her folds, teasing her clit with a feather-light touch.

“You’re already so wet,” he whispered. “Desperate for me to you, baby?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) whimpered. “I’ve missed your touch so much.”

“I’ve missed touching you. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed having you. I think about being inside of you practically every waking moment, and when I’m sleeping too.”

She moaned as he finally applied pressure to her clit. He rubbed slow circles into the bundle of nerves as he continued to kiss over her neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, leaving red marks in his wake that he really hoped would turn into hickies. There was something so hot to him about marking (Y/N) in a way that other people would see and know she was his. He slipped his hand under her shirt to cup and knead at her breasts, one at a time, making her nipples pop out underneath his fingers.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess; putty in Bo’s hands. He was essentially holding her up at that point as she was leaning back against him, her legs wobbling to a point where she wasn’t sure she could stay up much longer.

“Are you close already?” Bo asked. “I can feel you trembling.”

“I-I’m s-so close,” she said.

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

She pried her eyes open to look into the mirror. Bo’s eyes were staring back at her, dark with lust. It was hard to keep them open as her orgasm washed over her. Her legs just about gave out from under her as she cried out. Bo held her, smirking to himself as she trembled in his arms. He whispered praises into her ear as she came down from her high.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Right here, baby, please.”

“The bed is just a few steps away,” she teased.

“I can’t wait. I’m a slight breeze away from cumming in my pants.”

She giggled and turned her head to kiss him. She reached back to run her hands through his long hair. At first, she wasn’t a fan of the idea of Bo growing out his hair and facial hair, but now, with his beard leaving a tickling sensation in its wake and his long hair giving her something to hold on to, she suddenly loved it.

Bo broke away from the kiss to shove (Y/N) down over the bathroom counter. He pulled her pants and underwear down around her ankles, helping her to step out of them and kicking them off to the side. He let his own pants fall to the floor as well, his hard dick springing free from his pants. He took it in one hand and ran it through (Y/N)’s drenched folds, collecting her slick to use as his own lube. (Y/N) bit down on her lip as she whimpered, but couldn’t contain her moans once Bo pushed the head of his dick against her entrance. He easily slid his cock into her, slowly moving inwards until he was buried at the hilt inside of her. He dropped his head against her back, groaning at the sensation. It was a feeling he had been longing for, and now that he had it he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to last.

He slowly pulled himself out halfway before slowly thrusting back into her again. The head of his dick so easily nudged her g-spot that it made her already shaky legs even more wobbly every time he thrust inwards. She held on to the counter, digging her nails into it with such a grip that she thought she was going to break the counter.

Bo kissed over (Y/N)’s neck and what he could reach of her face again. “Can I start fucking you, princess?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Bo took that as enough of an answer for him this time and started thrusting into her at a quicker speed. He held on to her hips as he slammed into her, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. (Y/N)’s mind went blank, the only thing she could think of being Bo, Bo, Bo! She cried out his name, a sound more beautiful than any song Bo had ever heard.

“I might not last long,” he told her. “Do you think you can give me one more before I shoot this hot load inside you, baby?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It became a chant, like that was the only word she knew.

Bo smiled and put his hand around her throat, pulling her up so that she was flush against his chest. He continued thrusting at his brutal pace while reaching his other hand between her legs to rub her clit again.

“Look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock,” he said. “God, you look so fucking hot, falling apart for me like this.”

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, which clearly was not what Bo wanted. He squeezed her throat slightly, just enough to block her airways and make her lightheaded.

“I said look at me,” he growled into her ear. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. He smiled at her. “Good girl. Look how fucking good you look, all cock drunk for me like this.”

Her eyes were hooded, threatening to close again, and her mouth was in a permanent “O” shape as her body bounced with every thrust. Bo looked like a man on a mission, watching her face intently as he rubbed ruthlessly at her clit and thrusted hard into her. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sight which just drove her further over the edge.

She didn’t have to tell him this time that she was close. Actually, she didn’t even have time to tell him. Her second orgasm hit her quickly and intensely. Her vision clouded for a moment and her entire body felt heavy. Bo wrapped an arm around her lower stomach, keeping her up for his last few thrusts before he also hit his own climax. He buried his head in her neck again, muffled groans tumbling from his lips as he gave a few more shallow thrusts.

They were both panting and sticky with sweat once they finally started coming down from their highs. Bo was reluctant to pull out, but he could feel himself becoming soft and slipping from between her legs. (Y/N) gasped as she felt the hot trail of cum running down her legs.

“Let me clean you up so you can finally lay down,” Bo said.

He reached past her to grab the face cloth she had been using early and ran warm water over it again. Turned her so she was facing him and knelt down in front of her to wipe her legs and between them. He planted a kiss on both of her inner thighs, causing her to twitch a little from overstimulation. When he stood again, he discarded the cloth onto the floor and took (Y/N) into his arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed.

He laid her down first before crawling into bed next to her. He took her into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her warm body against his. It had been so long since they had been able to fall asleep together. He rarely tried to cuddle her when he came into bed after she had fallen asleep in fear that he would wake her.

“Are you done working for the night then?” (Y/N) asked, her voice soft and sheepish.

“Definitely,” he decided. “This takes so much more precipitant than working on that stupid special.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I think it’s going to be really good.”

Bo chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You haven’t even seen any of it.”

“I saw that one that was a parody of Drake’s music.”

“Eh, I’m thinking of cutting that one. I don’t even like it all that much.”

“Don’t do that! It’s my favorite one!”

He squeezed her slightly and kissed her again. “Okay, no promises, but I’ll try my best to put it in.”

“Thank you.”

They laid in silence for a while. It was quite comforting. Bo never wanted to leave the bed. He just wanted to hold (Y/N) and lay here in the dark and silence.

“I miss this,” (Y/N) whispered into the silence.

Bo sighed. “Me too. I promise I’ll try not to work too late so that we can have these moments more often. And I promise I’ll try to finish the special soon so that I’m not working on it at all anymore.”

“You don’t have to finish it soon if you don’t feel it’s ready, but I would prefer it if you were here in bed with me when I fell asleep at night. It’s not the same to fall asleep in a lonely bed all by myself.”

“I promise. Now get some sleep. I can tell you’re fighting off the unconsciousness.”

(Y/N) shook her head and smiled to herself. Of course he was right, she felt exhausted now after their bathroom activities. Being curled in his warm embrace didn’t help that matter either. She settled herself next to him and closed her eyes, letting the sleep take hold of her. Bo wasn’t too far behind, placing one last kiss on the top of her head before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

#bo burnham #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham smut #imagine #one shot #request #smut #rpf #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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mitsuyaya · 1 year

Text

[ good old-fashioned lover boy ] okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro megumi & nanami kento

♡ contains: 300 words. none just fluff, lowercase intended, unedited

♡ summary: how the jjk boys court you the old fashioned way

♡ end note: my sis has been singing this nonstop on the karaoke and I suddenly had an idea. would edit this if i have a free time :)

jjk masterlist

okkotsu yuuta

yuuta learned the guitar for one purpose only and that was so he could serenade you. he was driven to woo you just by creating and singing a song for you. it took a lot of time, a lot of paper and pen wasted, as well as strings broken but he managed to write a song about how special you are to him. by the time he finishes his song the line that goes: “I'll never make you cry, so baby just let me be your guy” is now stuck in your head.

megumi fushiguro

when megumi said he'll show you how determined he is in making you his significant other you didn't think he'll take it so seriously. come tomorrow morning and he's in your kitchen. your mother said she let him in and asked if he could make you and your family breakfast. and when your family is in need of another helping hand, he's quick to extend help and asks if there's anything else they need. he would always ask your mother if they finished grocery shopping so he could be the one to do it instead. it's not a surprise when one day your mom referred to him as her son-in-law.

nanami kento

letters have been long gone since cellphones and the internet became popular. and yet, nanami stuck with using the old-fashioned way of sending love letters to you. at first it was just little notes written in the back of a receipt from the coffee shop you work at. but as you two grow closer, get to know each other much better — now he leaves two to three pages of letters about how his day has been and how he can't stop thinking about you the whole day.

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spiteless-xo · 10 months

Note

eren getting a boner while he's spooning you but being uncomfortable because it hurts but he really just wants to cuddle 🥺

i'm so grateful for this ask because i'm in the mood to write something and i don't feel like editing tbaw rn 💀

i kinda deviated from the original prompt but anon, may i present to you:

╰┈➤ cuddling with a boner

ft. eren/gn!reader cw. explicit sexual content, explicit language, unedited, oral, second person pov, cuts off before the good part. 642 words.

you're supposed to be watching a movie together. some cheesy bank heist movie that eren's been wanting to watch for weeks and you finally caved.

you're laying on top of him, chest-to-chest as the two of you watch the main character recruit their band of misfits for the job. you've only been watching the movie for twenty -- maybe thirty? -- minutes when you notice something poking into you.

"eren..." you start, and you can feel him tensing beneath you, shifting a little as his eyes stay determinedly focused on the tv screen. "what is that?"

"what's what?" he hums, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

you squirm on his lap, grinding your hips down on the growing budge in eren's shorts and he lets out a throaty groan in response. "what's this?" you ask, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him with a smirk.

"i want to watch the movie," he whines, eyes darting to yours for a second before returning to the screen. "i can't control little eren when you're laying on me like this, but i'm serious -- i want to finish this movie first."

you snort, "do you want me to get off then?"

he responds by wrapping his arms around you a little tighter with a whine. "no, i want to cuddle."

you roll your eyes in amusement before resting your cheek back on his chest, eyes focused on the tv. but now with eren's cock pressing firmly between your legs, you can't help but gently rock against it.

"baby, please, i'm serious," he whines, hands shifting to hold your hips still. "i really want to watch this movie."

this time, you ignore him. you slide a hand down his chest, between your bodies, and grab him firmly through his shorts. he groans, hips bucking up against you in response, but he insists, "you can do whatever you want, but i'm not taking my eyes off the tv."

you take that as a challenge. he removes his hands from your hips to lace them behind his head, gaze still fixed on the tv even when you sit up on his lap.

you stroke him through the thin material of his shorts, watching his jaw tighten to hold back his moans while his weeping cock leaves a wet patch on the fabric. you slide your hands up to the waistband of his shorts, hooking your fingers underneath before tugging them off completely -- eren even lifts his hips to help you, despite his instance that he's "watching the movie".

his cock is already thick and hard, the head shiny with a layer of precum from your teasing, and looking at it like this has your mouth watering. you shift your position and gently inch your way down the couch until your mouth is level with his crotch. eren's hands shift from behind his head to rest on your arms, gently stroking you up and down as he breathes through clenched teeth.

"i thought you were watching the movie?" you hum, hot breath ghosting along his cock and his twitches against your palm.

"i am," he insists, jaw tight as he stares at the tv.

you run your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the thick blue vein running along it, and hear him groan from deep in his chest. his hand moves from your arm to the coffee table, reaching and stretching until he grabs the remote and thumbing the pause button.

when you look up at his face, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half-lidded, chest rising and falling rhythmically as he looks down at you.

"keep going," he says, rolling his tongue across his lower lip. "i paused it so we wouldn't miss anything."

"oh, good," you scoff before wrapping your lips around his soft, swollen head.

#eren #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #aot smut #tiff.fic #tiff.ask #eren.drbl

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ugh-yoongi · 11 months

Note

Congrats on the 1k!!!

Can I request an idol boyfriend Namjoon and y/n drabble? Something like they’re on a museum date and Joon is being his intelligent/passionate about art self, talking all the artwork and whatnot, and y/n just gets so turned on so they end up hooking up in a hidden part of the museum? 👀

namjoon being an enthusiastic art heaux? this is right up @effortandmore's alley. thank you for this request, though. this one was fun.

most of the history on the piece described here is from the met's website, here. it's a really interesting and heartbreaking piece; i encourage everyone to check it out.

(also, this is more "waxes poetic about art" than anything else. smut takes me forever to write and i figured you've waited long enough, so you'll have to headcanon it, i am so sorry. also, something about this piece just screamed namjoon to me and i wanted to write it. hope you enjoy anyway!)

nydia

pairing: namjoon x reader (no pronouns used) genre: established relationship au; fluff warnings: can be read as idolverse or not, one mention of suicide (the story behind the sculpture is pretty depressing), light swearing, namjoon being hot and smart, unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1k

The next gallery you walk into is vast.

Full of windows that cast a mid-afternoon glow on the floor. Stained glass casting colors. In here, everything feels grand. Feels a little overwhelming, reminds you of your place in the world: small, irrelevant, hopeful. You’re standing in a room of giants, both literally and metaphorically.

Namjoon is large on his own, but here it feels endless.

Diana is centered in the room, light dancing across the bronze. As you stare up at her, you wonder if she’s happy with this iteration. If she mourns her original purpose, poised atop one of the city’s most recognizable buildings, now long-gone. Demolished. You wonder if she’s content to be stationary when she used to go the way of the wind.

She’s stunning, even as a replica of her original self, but she’s not what Namjoon came here for.

What Namjoon came here for is also in the center of the room. The marble she’s carved from is more modest than Diana’s glittery bronze, but no less impactful. Her name is Nydia, and Namjoon has been obsessed with her since he’d gotten his hands on a first edition of an old novel, out of place amongst his poetry, but inspired by art and weathered by time and someone else’s devotion to it.

“There she is,” he says, and the room is vast and empty but you could make out the hushed awe in his voice from miles away.

You tuck yourself into his side, feeling just as small next to him as you do next to all of these sculptures. Laugh softly, endlessly endeared, at all the pamphlets he has clutched in his hands. History upon history, always something else to learn, and you could write just as many on the man beside you.

“Tell me about her.”

Namjoon looks down at you. Smiles. Says, “Her name is Nydia,” even though you know that already. “Randolph Rogers sculpted her in 1856. She’s based off of the character from The Last Days of Pompeii.”

You study her. Admire all of her intricacies, all the love that had gone into creating her and telling her story: her closed eyes, the broken Corinthian column lying at her feet, the movement of her dress. You’re vaguely aware of her story, recited to you by Namjoon over the span of three afternoons, one for each volume, so you know enough to know the tragedy, but you’d be able to feel it if you hadn’t.

“In the novel, she was kidnapped and enslaved and rescued by a man named Glaucus. She falls in love with him, but he’s betrothed to Ione.” He sighs, subdued; probably knowing too much about unrequited love. Probably relating too much to the sculpture standing tall before him. “There’s a lot that happens in between, but Vesuvius erupts and Nydia leads Glaucus and Ione to the Bay of Naples, where they’re able to board a ship to safety.”

Namjoon reaches out, careful not to touch, and traces the air along Nydia’s fingertips, her hand that’s raised to her ear. “She’s blind, so she’s used to navigating by sound. Everyone else in Pompeii is unable to see through the ash and rock, but Nydia has never been able to see, so she’s able to get them to the ship by listening to the ocean.”

The two of you share a quiet moment. You wonder what it must’ve been like, living through the chaos of that day. Watching, hearing the world burn down around you, helpless to stop it. Knowing you’re doomed to your fate. You wonder if you would’ve made the same decision as Nydia, if the pain of loving someone who doesn’t love you in return would hurt too much to be selfless. You wonder if it would’ve haunted you.

“What happened to her?”

Namjoon remains quiet. You almost think he doesn’t hear you, but then he answers, just above a whisper: “She decides that death is preferable to the pain of her unrequited love for Glaucus and kills herself. Slips into the sea.”

“Oh.”

The huff of laughter that tumbles out of Namjoon surprises you. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to be depressing.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ll just have to write a strongly-worded letter to Edward Bulwer-Lytton.”

A full-on cackle. “Yeah. Let me know what he says.”

“Probably, ‘Sorry my novel upset you, but I’ve been dead for a hundred and fifty years.’” You sigh, trying to shake off the dregs of sadness. “Tell me about Rogers. Is that less depressing, at least?”

Namjoon lights up the way he always does when you ask him about art: entirely, with his whole being. Looks like the first time you told him you loved him, and you think they’re probably the same, that they say the same thing. “Mostly. C’mere.”

You follow him to another sculpture. Ruth Gleaning, it says. “He carved this one, too. It was his first large-scale work, since he’d mostly sculpted busts of tourists after he moved to Italy. Nydia was much more popular, though; a year or two later he was commissioned by the U.S. to do the bronze doors for the Capitol building. He was also commissioned to do a statue of John Adams but it got lost at sea.” Namjoon looks anguished at this. “Fuck, can you imagine? He had to redo the whole thing.”

“Sounds a lot like you.”

“Wow, rude.”

The two of you share another laugh, but you’re struck by all of what Namjoon is. Intelligent, empathetic, eager. Always wants to bring you into what he loves, always wants to share it. Doesn’t deem anything unworthy of knowing, because you wouldn’t have thought Namjoon would know all of this, the history of an American sculptor forgotten behind the likes of Calder, Nevelson, French. But he has assigned spaces for everything, so of course he knows.

It’s a little overwhelming, how much you love him.

How much you want to know him the way he knows everything else.

The gallery you’re in is vast, but it’s filled with love. An artist’s love for its subject, your love for Namjoon. They say the same thing.

#work: 1kfm #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jewel answers #jewel writes

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heartofwritiing · 11 months

Text

I guess this time there’s just no hiding, (fighting you make me restless.)

parings: hockeyplayer!wilbur soot x figureskater!fem!reader (+ c!philza & c!kristen they own the ice rink!) (mentions of platonic!c!tommy x fem!reader)

summary: you and wilbur meet for the first time after your schedules get mixed up.

authors note: OKAY SO I started writing this back in April and never finished it, but I recently read Icebreaker by hannah grace and I had the urge to finish it! the idea was an au of what if sbi were a hockey team! (pretty sure I saw fanart once of dsmp like that but it could’ve been american football or soccer??) I've literarily been editing and re-writing this for three days straight and I think it's okay, but I hope you guys like it! I'm excited to post it anyways!! Let me know if I should do a part two!!

*title is lyrics from set me free by michelle branch from the ice princess soundtrack!

Warnings: Hockey AU!, first meetings, flirting,annoyance-lovers, swearing, beardbur. YES. unedited! (If there is anything I forgot let me know!!)

Ice skates glided across the smooth ice, freshly resurfaced only a few minutes ago. The blades cut with every movement, leaving lines in your wake.

It felt so freeing, so weightless in a way. You always loved being out on the ice. It felt like another world permitting your feet to take control and letting your mind be free of your thoughts.

Warm-ups were always a great excuse to not practice your triple lutzes. You had been trying to get it down for weeks, and your coach told you to just take it one day at a time but, of course, you still pushed yourself until you got it perfectly.

You were glad your scheduled preparation was when no one was at the rink, so you wouldn't get distracted while practicing for regionals. The only people in the building were the Zamboni driver, Sam, and the owners of the building.

Once you completed your warm-up, you felt fully prepared to begin your routine. You took a deep breath and focused all your energy to your feet, taking a deep breath, tuning out the world. At that moment, it was just you and the ice.

Following your whole set flawlessly, It came time to go for the triple lutz, you moved faster but more immersed, and you push off the ground sailing through the air and spinning. When you landed on your opposite foot, you failed to gain your balance and collided with a thud. A sharp pain shot through your body from the impact, but you brushed it off quickly collecting yourself. You got up to try again.

The cold air hit your face as you staked back to your starting point in the middle. You concentrated again and went for an attempt at the triple lutz again. You lifted into the air and suddenly felt something hard crashing into you. A groan and another thud, this time from the person you had slammed into.

You landed hard on your ass and groaned. Thinking to yourself why the hell was someone else on the ice while you were. Annoyed you’d have to start once again You quickly looked up only to find yourself face-to-face with a handsome stranger. He was also on the ground having slipped from the impact of your body colliding into his.

"oh shit,” he mumbled. “are you okay?" he quickly picked himself up and offered his hand out. Your heart raced, and you felt warmth spread throughout your body.

Effortlessly he helped you to your feet. You realized how tall he actually was since he towered over you. You begin to feel a bit dizzy staring up at the tall man. You guessed it was from the numerous times you had hit the floor hard. It certainly wasn’t the butterflies punching in your stomach from the painfully attractive male.

“I'm fine,” you replied shakily. “ I wasn’t paying attention,”

He smirked down at you as you stood up. You were able to observe his features more closely the closer you stood to him. The stubble around his jaw and under his chin adds a rugged charm, while his curly and slightly disheveled hair partially covers his eyes. You swear you catch a little glint in that soft brown gaze.

Likely from catching the tremble in your voice only moments ago, inadvertently revealing your nerves. You silently scolded yourself for behaving like a teenager around this attractive stranger.

“It's okay sweetheart, I wasn’t paying attention either," The stranger's voice crooned and sounded like honey. Your knees slightly buckled at the sound of his accent dropping a few octaves lower.

What was happening?

You nodded silently, fiddling with your skating attire between your fingers in an attempt to steady your thumping heart. Your gaze involuntarily drifted downwards, taking in his attire.

He wore a hockey uniform with a distinct green stripe at the top and a white base. The jersey's padding accentuated his broad shoulders, and the prominent pine green number 14 drew attention. Overall, the uniform made his complexion appear less pale somehow.

The realization hit you. He was a hockey player who played for the team that practiced in this rink. Hell, you knew Coach Phil, who owned the rink with his wife Kristen your skating coach. They were like your parents, taking you under their wings at a young age.

The hockey team he coached was dubbed "The Crows." appropriately after his favorite bird. Phil told you the story of how crows were loyal to those who treat them with kindness and how they repay it back to you. It never bore you in the slightest the number of times he told you over the years.

Although you have never attended a game yourself. You weren't a fan of the sport. You didn't even know the basic rules. Since Kristen has informed you about the rowdiness and occasional violence that can occur, you never opted to go to an actual game.

Sometimes, when you finished your practice, you could hear the disruptive noise coming from the men's locker room down the hall. You would often roll your eyes and walk past the doorway with disgust over how loud they were.

The dislike of them wasn't personal you never had met any of the boys before. But something about broad-shouldered men doing nothing but finding some way to ooze testosterone poisoning every chance they got annoyed you for no particular reason. So you purposely avoided them at all costs.

There was only one person from The Crows you had spoken with until now - Tom, who preferred to be called Tommy, as he told you shyly. Although younger than the others, he possessed a charming yet bold personality. Strangely, you felt a protective instinct towards him, like an older sibling though you couldn't define why.

Since meeting Tommy, you had only talked with him in passing, but you knew he was a good kid and liked him.

You were lost in thought for nearly a minute and didn't speak to the hockey player standing close to you. He smiled and lowered his head as if he had spoken though you didn't hear him.

"Huh?" you blink.

He chuckles, and the sound echoes in your ears, causing your heart to pound again.

"I asked for your name, darling," he mused.

Oh...

And that nickname. It seemed as though he was intentionally trying to make you feel flustered.

You realized that you didn't even know his name you quickly abandoned any preconceptions about him and answered him politely.

"Y/N,"

When he heard how your name sounded falling off your lips he smiled genuinely. As if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. It seemed to have a significant impact on him. His reaction stirred something within you. Like a strange connection between the two of you was forming from this one interaction.

"Im Wilbur- or Wil, that's what my friends call me,”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to dislike this man by the minute. You decided to have a little fun, thinking it couldn't hurt.

��Oh? So we're friends now?” You raised an eyebrow.

He playfully teased, "If that's what you want."

Cheeky bastard. You thought while smiling.

“Now if you don't mind darling, I have to practice."

Feeling a sudden shift in your head made you glare at the back of his head. Pushing off your stakes to circle around him and put a hand on his chest. Wilbur looks at you with a stunned expression, as if he's surprised that you dared to stop him. a

"I've only been here for twenty minutes. You are not going to take advantage of my practice time," you scoff. “I have at least another half hour left."

You didn't mean to come off in a snooty way, but the stress you were under was so overwhelming. Winning regionals was so important to you, and you weren't going to let this jerk interrupt your training, no matter how handsome he was.

Wilbur just shrugged.

“Sorry sweetheart but playoffs are coming up, and I need to work on my shots,”

Your eyes narrowed and you faced off in a staring contest. Stubborn as you were you didn't move an inch.

“Well, I am not leaving.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

The only thing to pull your gaze away from his was the sound of Phil coming down the stairs in the stands asking what was wrong.

You skated over to the open space where Phil was walking down the steps, ignoring the fact that Wilbur was trailing right behind you.

"Phil, I was here first, and my time is nowhere near done. However, Wilbur insists that it's his practice time that I am intruding on it."

"Listen, ice princess," Wilbur said with a hint of frustration. You reluctantly turn to face him, wearing a scowl on your face. "We're just a week away from one of our biggest games of the season, and we need to focus on practice. I can't waste time dealing with any of your bullshit."

The tone of his voice caught you off guard for a second. Which caused you to put your lips in a thin line. You weren't expecting him to get this intense over the situation. Then you knew nothing about him.

"Wil," Phil gives him a warning glare. This promptly shuts Wilbur up.

"Both of you calm down. We will get this figured out," he tries to reason. He yells for Kristen as she comes sprinting out of the office that posed in the corner of the rink with the glass windows looking out to the entire stadium. You watch on as there are hushed tones between the pair as they look at the clipboard in Phil's hands.

You hear Phil mumble out a string of curses. This causes concern to cross your and Wilbur's faces, but you don't say anything. Phil rubs his forehead as his wife turns to you with a remorseful expression.

"I'm sorry guys, We must've gotten the schedules mixed up.” Phil looks at you sheepishly.

Kristen starts by saying that the problem is currently unfixable. She explains that they have numerous prior booked events for the rink, making it impossible to alter the schedule.

Great. You thought.

Not only was it two weeks before nationals, but you also needed the space to practice. This was the only skating rink around. And you had a suspicion that the hockey team was bearing to be more stubborn than you were about this new situation.

Then you heard the words that made your stomach drop.

"you're gonna have to share the space on the ice."

After Kristen spoke, chaos broke out. Both you and Wilbur bombarded the married couple with injunctions and protests. This wasn't fair in the slightest.

They managed to convince both of you to settle down and come to an understanding. The consequences of not doing so would result in Wilbur being benched and you being unable to skate in the regionals this year. Losing the opportunity to compete was not an option for either of you, especially after putting in so much effort since last year's competition.

Reluctantly you agreed to get along with Wilbur and the rest of the team when the time came, no matter how much you hated it.

Upon Kristen's return to the office and Phil informing the rest of the boys about the situation in the lockers, you opted to skate to the far end of the rink, away from others, choosing a spot with brighter lighting.

"Well, looks like we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other, darling." Wilbur wandered up to you while you got into position to start your program.

You huffed. Yep, this was your life now. Anticipating Wilbur's continuous comments every day for the next two weeks.

"Don't get too used to it, pretty boy," You sniped. "I only agreed to share for Phil and Kristen's sanity."

He snickered and hummed.

"Whatever you say," he mumbled. "Just don't let my pretty face distract you from your skating," he winked and skated backward.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks and tried to convince yourself that it was from how aggravated you were over a minute ago.

"I wouldn't let it get to your head," you voiced. "I could still easily beat your ass in staking any day,"

He smirked at you, seemingly challenging you to prove your capabilities. Even though you had nothing to prove, you just wanted the satisfaction of making a fool out of him. However, you know that the time for retaliation was not now. Eventually, you will wipe that arrogant grin off his face.

"I'm looking forward to it, darling," He said before he turned to join his team.

As the rest of his team gathered in a huddle, you watched as they greeted Wilbur in a brotherly way. Tommy had slid up to him enthusiastically, rabbling about whatever was on his mind today. Most likely hockey related.

Wilbur had brought a hand up to the top of Tommy’s head to playfully ruffle his hair before moving over to where Phil was getting the team settled, but not before flicking the blonde on the forehead. A whiney “ouch!” escaped the younger one’s mouth as he followed behind his teammate, causing an amused smile to tug on your lips at their antics.

Taking one final glance at Wilbur wrapping his hands in tape before pushing into the first move. A simple glide and you went into your own world.

Wilbur glimpsed over to your side of the rink and watched as you began your routine. He was absolutely enthralled with watching how flawlessly you moved. Definitely thinking about how beautiful you looked in your attire, even if it was a simple zip-up jacket and yoga pants.

He definitely wasn’t looking. He was.

It wasn’t until one of his teammates pulled him out of his trance with a smack to the back of the head with a glove that he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from you and fell into his own practice as Phil blew the whistle to signal them all to fall into their positions.

The next two weeks were going to be quite interesting, to say the least.

tagging @merakiwi ! since you liked my previous stuff! if you don't want me to tag you in anything in the future let me know!

#hockey au #fanfiction #x reader #wilbur soot x reader #dsmp hockey au #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp au #c!wilbur x reader #sbi x reader #sbi au #wilbur soot au #wilbur soot x fem!reader #hockey fanfiction #c!wilbur soot x reader #hockeybur #idk what should we call wilburs hockey character i need something better lol

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niuniente · 8 months

Text

Agreed!

When I started writing fics in BAD ENGLISH in 2006 (I think) and with short chapters, you know what happened? The small fandom I was writing for always left me at least 5 comments to each chapter. To these badly written, broken English, unedited, a ship based chapters of my very first fic when I knew nothing about writing fics or writing in English. 5 COMMENTS TO EACH CHAPTER, ALL SUPPORTIVE.

Now? Well, you can get some comments if you write professional level fics with professional editing to big fandoms (I know this as a friend of mine is a professional author who also writes fanfics). Small fandoms are more eager to give comments and overall feedback because it's so rare to get anything new - and I know authors who struggle even within small fandoms!

Also, if you dream about getting some comments and feedback, you need to have a FULL fic because there are readers who aren't going to touch your fic because eeew, it's unfinished, still in wip state. Good luck with writing without any support! Also, don't you dare to write one chapter long fics, those are too short, eew :(((

You and I, we're old. We don't care so much about support and such anymore, because we're found our own stuff with the support we got when we were young, and now, we're going to keep doing our own things, no matter what.

I feel really sorry for all who start now and try to find footing in fandom spaces. I will do my own best to support people in my own fandom circles as much as I can.

You young folks have no idea how much better things used to be and I'm really sad it seems like you won't be able to experience that, because the collective fandom state is "I don't have to acknowledge anything if I don't want to, except perhaps give it a like if I feel like it".

#reply #fandom

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amethystina · 22 days

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Can I just say I legit dropped my tea cup when I saw the news about a new fic from you!!! I'm so very bumped for it you cannot imagine!!! Please is there something else you can tell us about it? This is better than anything for Easter and birthday and Christmas!

Be careful and don't burn yourself!

And, well, it's a 5+1 from Ga On's POV that spans across the drama with the concept "five times Ga On touched Yo Han without thinking and one time he did it intentionally." It started with me wondering what would happen if Ga On actually had reached out to touch Yo Han when he first showed Ga On the scar on his back, and then it evolved from there.

And by "evolved" I mean that the touches snowball and cause some slight changes to canon events and their developing relationship. Things escalate a bit quicker than the original, I guess you could say?

And then there will be a bonus chapter (or a +2, if you will) just because I realised I wanted to make the story come full circle with Ga On touching Yo Han's back again and that, in turn, devolved into a sex scene. And, like, the downside of me never having written one with this pairing before is that my brain just went "OH SHINY NEW TOY, GOTTA EXPLORE THIS." So the sex scene is getting really long even if that definitely wasn't my intention, because some part of me can't help but want to explore the dynamic and intricate details of these two having sex x'D

I'm really proud of myself for keeping the rest short, though! (She says about a fic that's 13k, unedited, not counting the, so far, 7k long bonus chapter) Like, you wouldn't believe how tricky it is when I'm used to exploring every tiny nuance and, in this one, I couldn't. There simply was no time. So I had to completely skip any discussions about Isaac, Elijah isn't even in it (which I'm sure is illegal), and a lot of the emotional development happens off-screen.

It's a much quicker, contained story told in a different format than my other fics, but will hopefully still be enjoyable? There will be lots of touching and A LOT of tension, if nothing else. Especially since this is during the time when Yo Han and Ga On are still getting to know each other and Yo Han has more of his Abyss tendencies. And Ga On is more bold since he doesn't have quite as much baggage. So closer to Gravitational Pull than Who Holds the Devil.

But yeah. The thought hit me and even if I "should" maybe be writing on Who Holds the Devil instead, I decided to let myself write this because the concept sounded really intriguing and I knew it would be pretty short (for being me). The bonus chapter isn't quite finished yet and I also have to edit all of it so I don't know when I'll be able to post it, though. But hopefully sometime soon?

And I hope you will enjoy it once I do! Thank you so much for sharing your enthusiasm — it's really encouraging. Like, I still can't believe that people are this excited about my writing. I'm very grateful 💜

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #Amethystina Writes #Each Touch (Brings Us One Step Closer)#Is what it's called #One step closer to what you ask?#Well #Read and find out ;)#For real though #I go HAM on the Dangerous Yo Han imagery #Because I admit that's a weakness of mine #I just love how dramatic I can be with him #It brings me so much joy #So look forward to that I guess?

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sensei-venus · 1 year

Note

aaahhh Hawk and Anthony both liking chubby girls 🤭 I gotta know what Hawk tells Anthony in advice tho definitely good for a pt 2 if you wanna do that haha

(Unedited, didn’t write this on anything but tumblr so I’m not copying pasting this into my editing system, I’m lazy) (This is decent but I want to use this plotline in the future for Anthony/Reader if people like it because I think it’s a cute twist on who Anthony’s Reader is, kinda like the whole LaRusso!Reader)

The two boys sat down next to each other on the pool chairs. Anthony fidgets in his seat as he looked around the pool area for something to take his mind off what just happened. He felt a little embarrassed about the fact that he got caught by Hawk checking out his girlfriend. It wasn’t his fault she was hot.

“So do you know the basic’s?”

“What?”

“Do you know the basic’s? You know how to pick up chicks?”

“Kinda? I mean I haven’t really dated anyone before but I know how to ask someone out.” Anthony made a weird hand motion making Hawk roll his eyes.

Hawk stated off over to the pool, his eyes scanning for his girlfriend who had wondered off with Moon to go swimming. His eyes finally found her on the other end of the pool, swimming and playing tag with Moon,Robby and Miguel. Demetri was on the side of the pool calling foul’s but it ended with his girlfriend and Robby splashing him and then dragging him back into the pool with them. Hawk smirked as he watched her float around and laugh, joking with Moon about something.

“Sooo you clearly like thick girls or you wouldn’t be trying to eye up my girlfriends tits and ass. What do you need help with?”

Anthony huffed as he leaned back on the chair. He coughed into his hand saying “I don’t know man, smaller girls, skinner girls are kinda….I just like bigger girls ok but it’s kinda hard to get close to them? It’s hard to explain.” He scratched at his neck as he looked down at his hands.

Hawk grunted, his mind wondering back to when he first meet his girlfriend. Their first meeting, their first date, first kiss, first smile, first everything. He reminded when he first heard her laugh at one of his snarky comments, when she smiled at a joke he made. He reminded the very first time he kissed her soft lips in the malls food court on their third date. She was something else. He did remember how hard it was trying to break her hard shell and when he did she was so beautiful underneath it. She was proud, happy, spirited and sweet. Everything he liked.

“No I get it, it’s harder, in the dating pool when you like bigger girls. Some girls are reluctant to even talk to you if you show any kind of interest in you. Kinda depending on what kind of personality you like on a girl too. What do you like? Hot heads? Girly girls? Tomboys maybe?”

Anthony looked over at the older boy before looking around in slight embarrassment. Talking to someone in person is different then looking stuff up online or going on forms for advice. He looked around for a minute. The pool was slowly starting to even out and the crowed lessing by the minute. His eyes finally landed on a girl sitting on the side of the pool, dipping her feet in.

He looked her up and down, studying her body language and just looking at her. She had thick thighs that pushed together as she sat and clearly I nice ass from how plush she sat. Her belly rolled from her bend over position and her breasts where snug in her top, pushing against the tight bikini top. Chubby arms folded over her tits, possibly trying to hide them. He wished she wouldn’t. She was talking to another girl in the pool and it seemed that the girl was trying to talk her into getting into the pool. And it was pretty obvious she was not into it.

Hawk noticed when he didn’t get a reply back from the younger boy. He raised a brow and looked over to the boy, his eyes following where Anthony was looking. He smirked as soon as he laid eyes on the girl. He flicked at his sunglasses as he sat up in his chair.

“Ah so you like they shy type, should have guessed with you. Smart mouth going after a shy girl is right up your alley.”

Anthony looked back over at Hawk with a frown on his face, he snorted in annoyance.

“Hey I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. Shy girls are different, kinda hard, but I feel like you like a challenge.”

Hawk wiggled his eyebrows.

“What are you guys talking about?”

The two boys looked up and found Hawk’s girlfriend standing over them. She was dripping wet from the pool, Hawk grabbed for a towel and handed it to her. She bent down and kissed him before throwing the towel over herself and sitting down next to her boyfriend.

“Anthony hear just wanted some advice on dating- it seems we have a lot in common, but it looks like he might have a little crush, love at first sight on someone already.”

His girlfriend cocked her head for a moment before Hawk turned around and pointed at the girl by the pool side.

She followed his gaze and perked up at the sight of the girl. She giggled and turned around slapping at her thighs in excitement.

“Wait Anthony has a crush on Bert’s cousin? That's so cute!”

Both boys almost shot up out if their seats.

“Wait what?! Bert's cousin?!”

Almost on command Bert popped up out of the crowed and walked over to the girl. He patted her on the back which made the girl smile, Bert said something before leaning down and hugging her and giving her a friendly kiss to the head before walking off with some of the other dojo kids. He gave a small wave to her before heading off. As soon as he was gone and out of sight she was back to looking shy and lonely by the pool side.

“How is Bert’s cousin so hot? She's related to Bert of all people.”

Hawk and his girlfriend rolled their eyes at his statement. Hawks girlfriend couldn't help but coo as she struggled into Hawks side. She giggled as Anthony looked at the girl again. A flush started to appear over his face and it wasn't from the heat.

The girl smiled saying “You should go talk to her, I heard she is super sweet. Bert doesn't stop talking about her half of the time since she's moved here. She's like his favorite cousin.”

“Wait moved here? So she's probably transferring to west valley for the upcoming new year?”

“Yep, perfect opportunity to get to know her.”

Anthony looked over her shoulder at Bert’s cousin.

Man she was hot.

“Dude just go for it. Maybe hype her up with the fact you know Bert, throw in some karate flexing, see if you can find out something like her hobbies. Best way to get her out of that shyness for a quick second.”

Anthony nodded at Hawks words before slowly getting up. His hands felt a little clammy as he started to walk away from the two other teens and towards the pool. His eyes held on Bert’s cute cousin.

Hawks girlfriend smiled as she looked back at Hawk.

“I didn't know you where such a good match maker. Is that your secret talent or something you never told me about?” she teased. She poked at his naked chest for a second before she got a chuckle out of him. He messed with his sunglasses for a moment before smirking at her.

“Hum I don't know Princess maybe I am, or maybe just maybe, I'm the “thick girl whisper” or something.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her

Before he could stop her she was reaching over and twisting his nipple, hard. He yelped as he ripped her hand from his now sore nipple. He rubbed at it as he held her hand away from him.

“Well if it's like that then I'm guessing I'm the only “thick girl” of the “thick girl whisper” right.”

“Puff you don't even have to ask babe, your my only thick girl. Your the only babe I need in my life and don't forget that.”

She rolled her eyes before Hawk pulled her into his chest and kissed her head. The two of them watching as Anthony, successfully, chatted with Bert’s shy cousin by the pool.

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai hawk #cobra kai hawk x reader #cobra kai eli #chubby reader #reader insert #cobra kai x chubby reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #anthony larusso x reader #anthony larusso x chubby!reader

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valentine-writes · 9 months

Text

for you!

「 tws + notes: no tws, fluff, not edited, kinda ooc my bad,, im learnin,,, 」

↳ ft. gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, miles morales, and pavitr prabhakar

「 gn! reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: obvi strictly platonic for miles, pav, + gwen but like. anyways!! just practicing writing for them becuz otherwise they will be So OOC for everyone's reqz and i literally would die. highkey struggled a bit but i'm tryin y'all!!! ("trying" but this is unedited ASF) ...eveyone look away from my obvious bias for gwen i heart her. i wanna,, also write for more characters eventually,, sooo,, hc reqs,,, hehehe :3 no full ficz,,, yet-

GWEN STACY headcanons:

▸ she doesn't do friends. not really anymore. oh but like. aside from miles, ur also an exception.

your friendship just kinda. happened?? it was a slow process but eventually y'all got close

▸ you supported her in her band endeavours! u know how knives chau rocks the homemade sex bob-omb merch in scott pilgrim vs the world (sorry 4 being a scott pilgrim fan and referencing it. im battling DEMONS.) THATZ U. biggest supporter for realz!! and she appreciates it so so much :,(

▸ she tries to hold u at arms length initially but ends up missing u too much when ur not around :( you've gotten really close to her over time– something neither of you had expected. but having a friend is refreshing for her. she's secretly always just a little anxious about losing you.

one time, in the middle of your developing friendship, she just kinda... dipped. left you on seen, didn't return your calls– you hadn't seen her in a while. but she came back, apologized profusely (through a lot of stumbled sentences and awkward rambles), and then swore never to do it again. you were... conflicted. so you asked her if anything was wrong and she mustered the courage to be vulnerable with you.

you are probably one of the first people in a long time that she'd actually been able to open up to.

▸ sleepovers where u jus stay up and watch slasher films. idk man i just feel this one in my heart. even if ur not particularly fond of horror, gwen is cool abt it if u need to cover ur eyes or hide under a blanket. y'all are practically screaming at the screen whenever the protagonist makes a dumb choice, acting like the characters can actually hear u

"if you go into that FUCKING BASEMENT I SWEAR–"

"nah– she's doing it. watch. WATCH."

"I CANT"

HOBIE BROWN headcanons:

▸ u are NOT calling this guy hobart. the first time u ever called him that Everyone Else was thrown off. like. no. we gonna stick w/ hobie for this one.

you, however, had the funny little idea of shortening his nickname even further. now sometimes– just on occasion– it's bee.

naturally, he's too cool to care abt what he's called, so he doesn't seem to have too many feelings about your overly cutesy nickname for him.

▸ you know any instruments? great. jam sessions with him. you don't? he'll teach you to play guitar. few ppl are given permission to touch His Guitar... but he can afford to make exceptions.

as he's teaching you, his chest collides against ur back a couple times, his hands guiding yours. he'll gently guide your fingers on the fretboard and yeah it's like– maybe not the most efficient way to learn. but whatever. he's pretty good with helping you figure it out.

▸ if you express wanting a piercing, tattoo or wanting to change up your hair (dying it, cutting it, whatever–) he's immediately gonna be like. "yea? ok. bathroom. right now." he'll help you out. king of diy truly.

and hey, the piercings never get infected, the stick and pokes turn out fine, the haircuts never look that bad, and the hair dye doesn't turn out awful so like. win???

supports you in your impulsive choices– piercings can close, diy tattoos fade, hair can grow– but the joy of self expression iz 4eva!!!!

▸ he lets you steal clothes from him. totally will point it out, but won't be all that bothered by it. HE'S GONNA BE TAKING FROM UR CLOSET TOO you practically share a wardrobe at this point. the others slowly become unable to differentiate which clothes you and hobie own individually. even if your wardrobes are completely different– trust he will find a way to keep a small piece of you with him

MIGUEL O'HARA headcanons:

▸ this man is emotionally distant asf. how did you achieve this relationship with him. answer: no clue!!! (｡･･｡) now that ur tight w/ him i am begging you. for the sake of the multiverse. get this man a therapy consultation RIGHT NEOWWW..... they literally have therapy services available in the spider society hq. if you dont HAUL HIS ASS OVER THERE–

▸ it's really no secret miguel has a soft spot for you. though he is very adamant about the fact that he doesn't– most people know that he's a little less grumpy with you around.

you seem to be one of the only people who can actually make him smile. which is. crazy. the first time he ever laughed at a joke you made you just kinda froze and stared at him, wondering if you had just vividly hallucinated miguel being happy. it was a light chuckle, where he kinda,, put his hand over his mouth and looked away. but it was SHOCKINGGG

▸ if you managed to get along with miguel, you're probably also besties with lyla. miguel however does not enjoy this. mainly because you two gang up on him. a lot. aka whenever ur arguing about anything w/ miguel, lyla is more likely to take your side. for funzies!!! she calls you her favourite– and it's like. man. are you getting along with miguel just for his little hologram assistant? i would but im gon shut my mouth on this one

it's funny how easily u two get along. she has officially attached all his bank info to ur online shopping accs and gaming shit. go wild. he'll never know (he finds out.. eventually.)

▸ it's actually really weird how you affect him. and everyone's noticing. he's constantly overworking himself to preserve the safety of the multiverse and when he's not, he's reminiscing on the past- but you give him something that he hasn't had in a while- an actual break. you pull him away from his responsibilities, from the screens he gazes into for so long, and for once he can relax. even if it's just for a minute

MILES MORALES headcanons:

▸ i saw hcs of a friendship w/ miles like gumball and darwin and i literally cannot get it out of my head. y'all r tight like that!!!! itz canon now. considering miles doesn't have a lotta friends (in his universe, at least) he's glad to have you!!! you're probably one of the people he hangs around the most. if you're somewhere, miles is probably somewhere around you too. and if he is not? he's probably just late. spiderman-ing around nyc probably

▸ his parents have really grown to like you too!!! let's assume u dont pull a gwen and address them by their first names. (i love her so much no shade at all but PLEADYUWEGFEHF that was So White of her) miles always has you over to hang out– which usually means you're invited to have dinner with them. his mom especially is always makin sure ur feeling at home and u got enough on ur plate (she is so sweet i adore her)

miles is constantly hearing: "when are they coming over again? you haven't had them over in a while-" rio hearts u. (and i heart rio.)

▸ STREET ART WITH MILES STREET ART WITH MILES– he def taught u what he learned from his uncle aaron. eventually u found a place you two can spray paint 2gether and u go w/ him whenever u need to destress a bit ^_^ it doesn't matter what ur skill level is in art, he's happy to teach you! sometimes, for practice, he'll even draw you!!! and though he hasn't shown you yet,,, he's been comfortable enough w/ you to leave his sketchbook open when you're around

▸ ALSO!! your hangouts probably have a killer soundtrack. u share a collaborative playlist w/ miles and swap recommendations every so often– so whenever ur both 2gether and jus chilling you've got good music 2 blast which is a combo of both ur tastes!!! he probably loves ur music, even if itz something he doesn't typically listen to. it's jus so you.

▸U ARE HIS CANVAS NOW. if u let him, he'll doodle in pen on your arm. he's always so focused, his eyes fixed on your skin as he doodles all over your forearm and hand. his grip is gentle as he turns your arm, tilting it every so often to make sure it looks right. there is no awkward silence, no pressure to make conversation- the quiet shared is comforting.

eventually he runs out of space and blinks up at you,, almost forgetting who he was drawing on. he'll apologize for getting so carried- but his drawings look amazing.

...and then he realized it was permanent marker and immediately doubled his apologizes.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR headcanons:

▸ im going to put this here and i dont know why specifically this came to mind. but never play just dance with him. you will LOSE. one of thse people who don't have to try to win. but he WILL put his 100% in it and eat you UPPPP.

sorry u can't outdo him </3

like bro those moves AREN'T EVEN PART OF THIS DANCE HOW ARE YOU STILL WINNING???

▸ gym bro but not Insane Gym Bro just.... gym bro. will try to get you to workout with him,, but like. cool if you don't wanna! is the most supportive gym buddy to have though. will always encourage you throughout the entire thing and not even just to get you to push through a set- this boy genuinely jus believes in you so much.

▸ he's constantly talking to you about gayatri. he loves his gf sm. if ur one of those people who Don't Like hearing abt other ppls relationships he'll make an attempt to tone it down

but trust he NEVER. EVER. makes you third wheel them. gayatri also will make sure of this- so now... more than often... if you're tryin' to hang with the both of them- THEY BOTH TRY TO PLAY MATCHMAKER FOR YOU.

LIKE. you can't just be LONELY. they're gonna make sure of it. pav and gaytri number one wingmen,..,, women,,, besties

▸ probably texts u like crazy. the type of guy to send u things throughout the day like "this is so you :]" he loves his bestie (YOU!!!)

sometimes it's like,, a particularly interestingly shaped cloud. maybe a cool bug that landed nearby him. a flower growing out of the pavement cracks.

and then sometimes it's like. this.

"this is you."

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