#DEMAND BETTER THINGS FROM LIFE OR YOU GET THE DART

[napalmstrikebarbie]

in case anyone else needs to hear it today: it is okay to reject things that suck and desire things that do not suck

#*loads nerf gun and aims* I AM NO LONGER ASKING #DEMAND BETTER THINGS FROM LIFE OR YOU GET THE DART #OP

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

[wileys-russo]

I jusr re-read Mrs. Williamson and the idea of rxLeah with Alessia as the little sister is something I can't get out of my head. So I have a suggestion, I thought about her usually being a little shit (like in the story) but then also being very protective of her older sister. Maybe r and Leah have a fight and Alessia is very protective but in a sweet way not a mean way towards Leah, more like pampering r but being firm in demanding an apology from Leah. Or something along those lines, would love to read something like thins from you! :)

mrs williamson ficlet, continuing on from here

alessia had answered your call as she usually would, with a sarcastic remark about never gaining back the minutes of her life you were about to drain her from. though the very second you'd spoken and she heard the way your voice cracked she was sitting bolt upright with a frown.

"what happened? are you okay? is the baby okay?" "the baby is fine. can you come over please?"

she was there in record time, grateful to have not been pulled over the way with the way she sped through the last two sets of lights before pulling into your driveway.

the first thing alessia noticed was the lack of your wifes car in the driveway and her eyebrows knitted together, grabbing her bag and kicking her door shut she jogged up the front steps.

you'd already opened the front door before she even reached it, and her features softened seeing your red puffy eyes clearly indicating you'd been crying. "whats happened then?" your younger sister pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back which was aching given you were now five months pregnant.

you only shook your head not able to even speak as alessia sighed, shuffling the two of you inside and closing the door as you let go of her. "where's leah?" alessia asked gently as she followed you into the kitchen, the scoff and roll of your eyes all she needed to know the blonde was clearly not in your good books.

"not here." you muttered, moving to grab two mugs from the cupboard as alessia appeared behind you. "i'll do it, sit down please." she shooed you away ignoring your protests, helping you sit down carefully on the lounge.

"shit you're huge now." she remarked bluntly as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the piercing glare sent her way having her eyes widen. "not like that! just, you know." alessia gestured awkwardly to her stomach, wincing as you continued to blankly stare at her.

"i'll get the tea!" she announced, darting back to the kitchen as you rolled your eyes and glanced down to your phone beside you which was lighting up with notifications, turning it over and not bothering to even look at them.

alessia returned and shot you a filthy look as you made a comment you were surprised she managed to carry both mugs in and not spill a drop, your younger sister notoriously clumsy.

"so dear sister. self care day?"

~

"is it supposed to feel sort of like its burning?" you questioned with a slight frown, touching your cheeks which were coated in a charcoal facemask alessia had gifted you ages ago and had remained untouched.

"yes! that means its working to get rid of all your wrinkles." alessia mumbled as you kicked her with a glare for the comment. "hey! you're messing up my artwork." the blonde scowled, tugging your foot back into her lap where she was painting your toenails having already done your nails.

"so will you tell me now what you and leah are fighting about?" your sister asked glancing up at you curiously, not having pushed you too much but still in the dark on why it was that your wife was nowhere to be found and you'd clearly been crying when she showed up.

though as you shook your head the striker sighed but again didn't push you, knowing better than to try and get information out of you that you clearly weren't ready to share.

despite how much of a kick she got from winding you up and messing with you this was one of those rare occasions you were grateful for her, and the quiet thank you mumbled to her was all she needed for a grin to settle into her features.

you feared she'd hold this against you for her own gain in the future but for now you were just relishing in her efforts to make you feel better, no matter how much you might argue the two of you were still incredibly close and despite being younger alessia had always been fiercely protective.

which is why when the door rang and she glanced over your head to see leahs car was now parked in the driveway alessia was quick to her feet, ordering you to let your nails dry and handing you some micellar wipes to remove the mask from your face.

"leah." your sister spoke dryly as she opened the door, the older girl caught off guard as she frowned. "alessia?" she answered with a raised eyebrow. "why are you here then?" the younger blonde challenged, effectively blocking the doorway as leah gave her a strange look.

"well because i live here. why exactly are you here less?" "i'm here because my heavily pregnant sister called me crying and upset, which i can only assume is your doing. so, come to apologise then?"

"did she tell you why she's upset?" leah narrowed her eyes trying to step inside as alessia protectively spread herself to further block the door. "she didn't need to." alessia quipped back causing leah to exhale deeply.

"babe!" leah cupped her hands and yelled out into the house making alessia roll her eyes. "what?" you hovered behind your sister, eyes slit into a glare and arms crossed over her chest.

"this is so stupid love. what have you done?" leah sighed as alessia scoffed. "what has she done?" the taller girl retorted as your hand fell to her shoulder gaining her attention.

"you left me leah." "i what!?

"you left her while she's nearly six months pregnant leah what the hell is the matter with you!" alessia angrily lunged for her team mate who hastily stepped back as you pulled your sister inside by the back of her jumper and mumbled for her to stop it.

"i didn't leave you! i went to the shops!" leah gestured to the bags by her feet as alessia fell silent and took a step back as you stepped forward. "i woke up and you were gone, your car was gone, there wasn't a note and you left your house keys behind." your eyes welled up with tears as leahs face softened.

"baby i've sent you like a hundred messages. i knew you were upset i couldn't find the peanut butter ice cream last night so i've gone to like ten different stores till i found it." leah picked up one of the bags and showed you its contents.

"im sorry!" you burst out into tears as your wife hurried to pull you into a hug, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your back.

"sorry, pause!" alessia laughed in disbelief, leah shooting her a warning glare which was ignored. "she went to the shops for a few hours and you thought she left you?" alessia shook her head, running a hand down her face with a shake of her head.

"alessia i am pregnant and hormonal okay!" you sobbed as leah shushed you and placed a kiss to your forehead. "oh my-" alessia wasted no time grabbing her keys and pushing past you.

"if you weren't pregnant i would throw you down these stairs!" your sister seethed, pausing to take a deep breath as she caught leahs eye who smiled apologetically.

"you are hereby banned from calling me unless its about the baby, you're dying, you're in labour or seriously injured." your sister warned seriously, pointing at you with a menacing look before huffing and storming off down the driveway.

"i love you!" you yelled after her, a middle finger all you got in response as you buried your face in your wifes chest and she helped you inside, still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"darling you seriously thought i left you? why didn't you just call me or read my messages?" "again, very pregnant and very hormonal okay i wasn't able to think!" "right right sorry my love, lets get some ice cream into you then. i love you very very much...even if you're a little unhinged." "leah i heard that!"

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #woso community #woso blurbs #alessia russo

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

stress relief - itzy yeji

-word count: 3245 words (longest to date :D)

-the yeji fic from many weeks ago. i finally finished it. i have something special that's nearly done. (i promise this time. it was a collection of spare time over a few months)

-dom!yeji, aggresive blowjob, riding, doggystyle, sweaty sweaty sweaty, facial

The stale stench of the air conditioned office clung onto you as you entered the bar.

Being in the bar was the last place you’re supposed to be this month. After just receiving a promotion at your workplace, the workload placed on you gradually kept snowballing to a point of no return. But you couldn’t just give up. Well, first of all, you really needed this job. It paid well, now that you had the promotion. Furthermore, times are changing, there really isn’t very good job stability now and getting fired and being “free” was not to be an option. 

You should’ve been at home, working and completing the reports due next Monday and getting ready for the presentation on Wednesday. Then taking note of all the shipments and settling the deal with the customer from Italy. But eh, it was a Friday, one night wouldn’t hurt right ? 

Or so you thought.

Three quarters through your drink, at around what was probably 11pm, a show begins.

The lights were cut for a brief moment, before spotlights focused onto the pole in the middle of the room. And out comes 5 gorgeous vixen clad in jet black costumes. Then, the music cues. 

Guess who loves you, naya na.

It’s a really, really catchy song and it made the atmosphere super stiff, as if all five of the women were demanding attention and silence as they performed. 

Do I show you? Noya-no.

Okay, this is actually really good music. And good lord those women are gorgeous. 

Ajik time-i anya nan

Jom deo gakkai jom deo gakkai geureoda gapjagi ssak

The choreography too, jesus christ.

But in particular, one of the women is catching your eye. The way her luscious firey orange hair, jewelry embedded within, moves in perfect tandem with her body, which by the way, is absolutely killing it. Every single dance move, to the smallest body pop, is quite literally perfect. Flawless. She’s wearing a sleeveless top and it’s really turning you on. Her arms are so gracious, and you’d love to feel them all over your body. Her collarbones and neck, they’d look so much better with your lovemarks on them. And the little bit of breast peeking out from the top. It’s more than enough to get your heart racing, and you take another sip of your icy cold drink to properly brace yourself for whatever they have left in store.

Imma steal it mameul humcheo

You are gonna love me.

That’s absolutely incorrect. You’re more than loving them, you’re fucking captivated by them.

Gyeoljeongjeogil ttae ippareul deureonaeneun type 

And suddenly, the orangehead takes the stage. 

The lyrics become an absolute blur to your ears as all your mind is fixated on is the absolutely stunning woman. God, she fucking looks like a cat too. Those damn fucking eyes are so… succubus like. And after twirling her fingers in your direction, she suddenly does a slut drop, squatting while spreading her legs apart. Now your eyes are staring at her milky thighs that are on full display under the spotlight. A million things are running through your mind right now, and none of them was related to your work life in any sort of way.

You’ll never know.

Her left thigh moves,snapping you out of your momentary hypnosis and your eyes quickly dart back up and you see her staring at you, a smirk dashed across her face. 

The rest of the song plays on but your mind is now playing that same slut drop moment over and over again. Eventually, the song ends and all 5 of the women are panting, sweat starting to collect at their foreheads. They retreat behind the stage quickly and the rest of the club goes on like the performance of their lives didn’t just happen. 

.

.

Give or take 10 minutes, you are on the way back from a toilet trip. At your table, you are greeted with a very much welcome surprise. The same fiery haired girl is sitting in the seat opposite of yours, watching you make your way back to your seat. 

“Hey there oppa.” Her voice is a knife full of confidence, laced with venom. 

“H-hey. Nice performance out there.” You grab your drink again, needing a punch of ice to hide your nervousness. But it’s so hard to maintain composure, especially when your eyes are looking at everything but her own cat eyes. 

“I know. You clearly enjoyed it. Or rather, you enjoyed me.”

“Was I really that obvious?” That was definitely the alcohol talking. You would have said something like “Sorry” or “I didn’t mean to.”, but no, you were playing the fool, like an absolutely rizzless bastard.

“My group has 5 members, yet every time I moved position, your gaze was glued onto me.”

“Well, you are really, really hot.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Bring the glass to your mouth again, shit. It’s fucking empty.

“So, what’s a young office worker doing in our bar?” She asks, elbows on the table, her head supported by her cupped hands as she leans in. 

“Well, to be fair, I walked in thinking it was a regular bar. I just needed a drink to take my mind off of work.”

“Are we not a regular bar? Anything special about this bar?” She asks, clearly trying to poke at you, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.

You take another awkward sip of your drink, which was just melting ice at this point.

The conversation continues hazily and you guys chat for what must be hours until the distance between both your faces was probably the size of your drink.

“Can't imagine how stressed you must be.” Her right hand falls into your left, fingers tracing your forearm as she whispers. “Want to get out of here? I’ll get rid of all your stress for you…”

Ah, an offer you couldn't refuse. Now that’s some business I don't mind getting done right now.

“Say less… Um, I didn't catch your name?”

“Name’s Yeji. Don't worry oppa, you're gonna be moaning my name all night.”

And in a flash, you're both out of the club and in your car. You don't waste a single second. Foot on the pedal and you're on the streets of Seoul, zipping past the buildings of the city. 

Yeji, in the meantime, has other plans.

She takes your hand, and places it on her thigh. You can feel her gaze, waiting to see what your next move is. Were you gonna retract your hand and focus on getting home quick and safely? Or were you gonna start the study of Yeji’s body right then and there?

Obviously the latter.

Your hand roams around the silky smooth skin of hers. Pinky occasionally dipping into the gaps in her pants and rubbing against her inner thigh. You hear Yeji suck in a deep breath, the horniness evidently getting to her.

Fuck, fucking red light!

You seize the opportunity to look at Yeji, she’s now grinding against your exploring hand and you can't help but sneak a finger into her pussy. 

Green light. And your foot is back on the pedal. Finally, you reach the last turn into your apartment.

As soon as you get out of the car and into the elevator, Yeji pounces on you. Your hands catch onto her thighs for stability. Your lips crash against one another, her teeth biting your lower lips. 

Ding. Elevator door opens.

Door. Open. Bedroom. Bed.

No time to even register a logical sequence of actions. You toss her against your bed. Yeji is now a panting sweaty mess, but it doesn't matter. She looks even more gorgeous with the thin layer of sweat across her skin. Collarbones, arms and armpits glistening with sweat. You pin her hands above her head and nibble on her neck. Then, tongue out, you start collecting the sweat, from her armpit, across her chest and then from the middle of her neck to behind her ear, where you whisper, “You taste fucking amazing.”

“I know.”

You reach behind and pull down the zipper leading right to her tailbone, then help the foxy girl out of the one piece top. You pause for a moment to take in the sight before you. A smoking hot dancer is lying on your bed in nothing but a strapless bra and a thin black thong and some knee high boots. Yeji’s body is fucking picture perfect. Tight midriff, perky breasts, juicy thighs, not to mention her pretty face.

“Let me put on a show oppa. Just for you.”

She gets off the bed and you take her spot on the edge of the bed. Yeji turns around and takes off the bra, placing it on the ground next to her. Then, she bends over, putting her perky ass on display for you as she pulls off the lacy thong from her slender toned legs.

“You know, I should charge extra for this performance.”

You wouldn’t mind paying any amount to see this performance if you were being honest. 

“Boots on or off oppa ?”

“On.”

Yeji then smiles, tosses her thong onto your face, allowing you to grab a deep whiff of her sex. In front of you, Yeji is back in her slut drop position, but this time it’s even more erotic because she’s wearing nothing but the boots. Her pussy is on full display as she spreads her legs open, with just a little bit of hair going down the middle.

“Fuck, Yeji…” Your cock was throbbing within the confines of your pants with her tiny little strip show.

“Told you you’d be moaning my name.”

Yeji then straddles your lap, looks into your eyes while unbuttoning your shirt. 

“Let’s get all that stress out of your body, oppa. Think about nothing but me, okay?”

“You don’t even need to ask Yeji-ah.”

You pepper her neck with kisses as she peels your shirt off. She then lowers herself, hands grazing across your body, down to your pants which she pulls down. Finally free, Yeji purrs when she sees your length. 

“Wow, it's huge, oppa. Can’t wait for it to be deep inside my pussy.”

She gathers some spit on her hand and uses that same hand to stroke your cock, taking a cold fingertip across your sensitive tip each time she reaches your head. Each swipe across sent you nine realms ahead. It wasn’t clear if it was the alcohol or Yeji’s pure skill at this, but all you could hear was the loud hammering of your heartbeat. Or maybe that was the lewd sound of her saliva being spread over your length. Then, after spontaneously deciding that your cock was ready for the onslaught that was to come, Yeji pushes both your legs off the ground and onto her shoulders and lets the front portion of your cock rest in her mouth. Your balance is shifted. You’re now staring at the ceiling, stimulation after stimulation speeding down your nerves from your cock to your brain. You feel her mouth bobbing up and down on your length, her skillful tongue working its way across its veiny landscape. You try to will yourself to get up to watch the spectacle happening before your eyes but the pleasure drags you the fuck back down and all you can do in response is let out weary breaths and sinful moans while your toes curl and leg muscles spasm. 

And your cock isn’t even all the way through.

Yeji plunges her head down like a vulture diving into the carcass of a dead buffalo, and you feel that sharp nose of hers bump into your pelvis. The sudden action takes you by surprise and, from god knows where this submissiveness came from, you arch your back and let out a sound that you swear to never to make again. You feel saliva coating your nutsack now but when Yeji slowly removes her mouth from your cock, letting the cool wind graze your cock, all you want to do is beg Yeji to put your cock back inside her mouth. But that need not be done, because as you have a brief moment to register the influx of sensations, she hungrily goes back down onto you. Her prey. You would kill to see her eyes right now, staring straight into your own as she watches you submit to her. But then again, from the amount of noise you were making, it was pretty evident that she had you in the palm of her hand. It was just twice. Just twice that the whole length of your cock was engulfed by her mouth, but it drived you to the absolute edge and you felt like your first load was about to come.

“Fuck, Yeji. I- I- I’m gonna fucking…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have given her the verbal cue. Because just as you feel the gates of heaven about to open, she quickly withdraws. The feeling of the climax fading away throughout your crotch. You look at her with a face of discontent, displeasure and anger.

“Can’t have you busting so soon,” she says, chuckling to herself as she climbs over your vulnerable naked body after kicking off her boots, rubbing circles on her slickening pussy. “I'll let you cum deep down my throat some other time.” 

She climbs over you and hovers above your crotch. Grabbing your stimulated, twitching cock in one hand, she lines it up with the folds of her pussy and in one fell swoop, with no prior warning that she was going to go all the way down in one shot, she sits on your pelvis, practically impaling her pussy with your cock. 

“Anggh! Fuck!” A sharp, shrill moan of pleasure erupts from her mouth as her ass rests on your pelvis. Your hands wondrously find their way to her toned sweaty thighs, grazing the muscle on it in pure wonder and amazement. 

“You’re so fucking hot Yeji ah, and so freaking tight!” The fiery redhead doesn’t say a word, but she continues the ride. Hands on your pectoral muscles, Yeji displays her body isolation skills learned from dance. Her gaze fixes onto yours once again as she moves her hips up and down and you can only imagine what her ass looks like as it does this motion. But imagination always becomes reality when Yeji is around. The sexual chemistry between the two of you is just perfect, or maybe Yeji just knows what you so desperately want but is too shy to voice out. She turns around, her hands resting on your legs this time as she does the same vertical wave motion with her hips once again. Her beautiful butt is like a hypnotic pendulum, your eyes fixed on the gorgeous peach in front of you, it’s just irresistible to slap. And so you do. 

Slap! 

“Angh!” Crimson locks of hair get flung up into the air as Yeji throws her head back in response.

You bring a palm down on the flesh and watch how it ripples in response, a red handprint faintly appearing at the spot that was struck. Such a goddamn vixen. Is the only thought that runs through your mind, perhaps the only thought that has been running through your mind the entire night as soon as you laid your eyes on the foxy woman. Her pulsing butthole intrigues you as her hips work their magic, and you can’t help but take your index finger, and slowly slide it into her puckered hole. As your finger snakes its way in, her anal walls clamp down on it until your whole finger up till your knuckle has been engulfed. 

“Holy shit! Just like that oppa! Stuff both my holes up!” 

You withdraw your finger and this time, using both your index and middle finger, you embark on yet another tight fit into her anal cavity. Yeji’s hips start to slow down as she reaches the pinnacle of her stimulation. 

“Fuck-ah! Cumming!”

Her body convulses violently and you feel her muscles contract around your submerged fingers and your cock. You give her alluring buttcheeks another firm slap that echoes throughout the darkness of the night and watch as she slowly climbs off of you.

“You haven’t cum yet oppa…”, she whines, still in her lustful trance. “And my pussy is still yearning for a good pounding.” She wiggles her hindparts in front of you in a doggy position, spreading her pussy lips for you to see. You line yourself up behind her, give that gorgeous ass of hers another firm slap before sending your cock back into its rightful embrace. 

“Oh fuck…” Your cock’s reentering of Yeji’s tight pussy is like getting back into the swimming pool after being exposed to the cool air for too long. Warm. Wet. Refreshing. Her vaginal muscles are still so full of vigor despite having just came, almost as if they were desperately trying to wring you dry. Her scarlet nails dug into the bedsheets as you picked up a steady pace of thrusting your hips. From the back, you bunched up her fiery hair into a makeshift ponytail while your other hand rested nicely on her hip.

“That’s it! Fuck me harder! Use me as your fucking stress relief toy oppa!” That entire dialogue was more than a green light to you. Tightening your core to its limits, you picked up the pace, slamming your hips ever so desperately, with Yeji letting out a raspy moan with every smack that reverberated throughout the night. 

“Holy- Angh! FUCK! I’m gonna cum oppa! I’m gonna fucking cum!” Yeji cries out. Her pussy constricts around your cock for the second time of the night, this time an erotic geyser of squirt ensues, covering your thighs in her slick. Your own orgasm starts to surface. Pulling out of her pussy, you flip Yeji onto her back and climb over her. You point your cock at her and aggressively jerk yourself off to the finish line. 

“That's it. Cum for me. Cover me in your cum oppa. Paint your slut in-”

Yeji is interrupted by streaks and streaks of cum erupting from your cock in what must be your biggest orgasm to date, painting her sharp features, her chin, nose and eyes. The sweaty, panting mess sticks out her sharp tongue in an attempt to collect some food samples. 

“Oh, fuck… Yeji ah.” is all you manage to squeeze out as the last drops of your semen land on her face. 

“Gosh, you sure came a lot.” 

You collapse beside her, both of you sweaty messes. “What can I say? I had a lot of stress pent up inside me.”

Yeji gets up, and walks away from the bed. You still lay there, utterly spent, watching her hypnotizing body sway from left to right.

“Where are you going?”

“To the shower you dummy.”

A brief moment of silence follows as you are unsure of how to reply. Do you join her? Maybe she’s tired and doesn’t want round two.

But your thoughts get interrupted as she makes the choice for you.

“Oppa, are you not joining me?”

Suddenly, your body is full of vigor once more as you imagine the two of you soaped up together in the shower, feeling each other and exploring more of each other’s body. You excitedly hop off the bed and scurry to the shower. It was going to be a long, long night.

#smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader #itzy smut #yeji smut

[kirishima-eijirock]

@katsuslover asked: Making katsuki jealous by talking w deku or something and he's all sulky and a baby and u show him why he's better

a/n: omg hell yessss I made it a little angsty but I hope he’s not too OOC

You narrow your eyes at the blonde sitting right in front of you. His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a deep frown that you’ve never seen before. Clenched fists that are slightly shaking, he glares down at the floor with such an intensity that almost frightens you. Almost.

He’s been that way for the past half an hour, with no warnings at all. It’s weird, how this morning he wasn’t giving two fucks about anyone or anything at all, and now he’s just… furious isn’t even the word to describe it. Neither is rage. This is something else, and you knew it.

“Kats, just spit it out already.”

You’ve been trying to coax an explanation out of him for the past twenty-seven minutes, and yes, you’ve been counting. He’s never hid his anger from you. Or anyone, actually. But definitely not you.

“Kats, I swear to god, if you don’t start saying anything then I’ll go back to my conversation with Midoriya—”

“Get that bastard’s name out of your mouth.”

It was a quick mumble. A short demand. A command, if you will. He’s never said shit about Midoriya with such pure hatred that it did confuse you, and you started to question if you really understood Katsuki in the first place. 

His brow furrowed and his teeth gritted, his glare shifts from the floor to your shoulder, avoiding your direct gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to glare at you, no. The last thing that he wanted to do was to direct his anger at you. You were one of the most precious people in his life, and he wasn’t gonna risk anything, much less even glaring, to fuck it up. But looking down and glaring at the floor looked utterly pathetic, too. So his eyes dart from the wall behind you, to your shoulder and neck, but never your face. You didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t your fault, either.

He knew it’s not your fault, so why did it sting so much to hear you laughing with that bastard? He didn’t get it.

“Never mind. ‘M fine. It’s nothing.”

“Kats, you can’t be mad like that and not explain yourself.”

It’s true. He knew that he owed you an explanation, and a good one. Shame crept up on him as he realised that he snapped at you. That you were on the receiving end of his anger. The promise he made to himself— to never, ever make you upset, or to ever let you feel like the reason that he’s mad— was now broken in his eyes.

“I’m… sorry. For snapping at you. It’s not your fault,” he mumbled under his breath. 

It wasn’t snapping, but he hated the fact that he still could have upset you. 

“Kats, it’s okay. I’m fine, I promise. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything that’s on your mind, right?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, though it’s clear that his snapping only made him more irritated with himself.

“It’s not nothing if you’re…” you trail off, not wanting to point out the current tears in his eyes. 

“Huh? I’m what?” Still oblivious to the tears, he looked around and found nothing.

“Kats, seriously. Tell me, now.”

The firm gaze directed at him from your eyes made him freeze, and the gentle tone in your voice made him hesitate. He was surprised, to say the least, that you were still here, trying to help him while he stood there in front of you like an idiot. If you left now, he wouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, he understood why you would do that, and he couldn’t blame you. This emotional, vulnerable part of him finally showed for the first time in your relationship. 

It surprised you, just a little. You knew he hated showing emotions besides happiness and the occasional happiness, but never tears. He never cried solely in front of you, at least.

He felt weak, so… pathetic. 

And on the other hand, you were there, trying to help him and coax some coherent words out of him, before finally giving up with a sigh

“Kats, if you don’t wanna talk, then we can save that for another time. I won’t push you any further if you’re getting uncomfortable.”

He’s never felt comfort like this. Not warmth, or such gentleness either. It’s so new to him, but in the best ways that he couldn’t describe. 

What was this feeling? His heart was bittersweet now. His loathing towards Midoriya was worsening, but the sweetness in your voice was making it fade away slowly.

“I promise I’m fine,” he rasped out. 

“Okay, Kats. As long as you’re alright,” you murmured, not really pushing him to speak unless he really wanted to.

He took a deep breath, not sure how to address the issue.

“Look, I don’t know what to feel when you’re talking to that damn Deku,” he stated plainly.

“You don’t know what to feel? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stopping you from having friends, okay? I just don’t like how giggly and shit you were with him,” he huffed.

“Well… why not?”

“It just bugs me, that’s all. Just feel like I should be the reason you’re laughing. Not him.” 

Oh. It finally clicked in your mind. He was jealous. You wanted to point it out, but it could sour his mood further, so you decided against it for the time being.

“Well, if that was the case, you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

You were too sweet, too understanding. It was hard for him to believe that he deserved it. That he deserved you. 

“Really?”

“Yes, really, Kats. You don’t need to worry that I’ll be upset, okay?” 

He nodded slowly, still not used to this amount of sincerity and care from someone.

He was never this soft, or vulnerable to anyone. You, however, were an exception. He wasn’t afraid to show it to you, and even though he wasn’t used to it, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. 

“Thanks…” a soft mumble of thanks left his lips, happy how this confrontation went.

@angelshimaa angst for you :)))

#kiri next and im gonna make two versions of this LMAO #bnha #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou

[ponderingmoonlight]

Nanami fearing rejection from his wife and daughter after Shibuya left him seriously wounded

Pairing: Nanami x wife!reader; Nanami x daughter

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: Even though he survived Shibuya, Kento Nanami dies from the inside just by the thought of losing you and his precious little daughter due to his severe wounds and scarred skin. But despite his great fear, your reaction turns out completely different than expected.

Warnings: Let's just pretend this is how it ended okay I'm crying, tried to proofread this but I'm just veeeery depressed right now, this might be the fluff you NEED after today's episode

Request and idea by gorgeous @wifenanami <3

Everything’s a blur. What happened last? How did he get here? His heavy heart skips a beat. Oh, right. His whole left side burns like a thousand fires, arm unable to move even an inch by the way his skin feel like bursting every minute. He was severely burned. The last thing he saw was…

Haibara, then Yuji, and then…

You.

Oh god, just the thought of you kills him from the inside.

“Hey, easy there. Your heartbeat is jumping out of the roof. You need to rest now, Nanami. I already called your wife.”

The smell of burned cigarettes simply takes his breath away, along with the venomous words that leave Shoko’s mouth so casually.

“My wife?”, he coughs out, body desperately trying to sit up.

No, this is impossible. You can’t see him like that, body covered in burn marks with his left eye and hair missing. What will you think of him? And what about your daughter? That sweet innocent angel, will she even be able to recognize him? You, his wife, the love of his wife. Your daughter, the greatest treasure on earth.

Will you be disgusted by his fearful sight?

“Yeah, she’s already on her way. Honestly I wasn’t sure if you’ll make it, so I-“

“Why on earth did you call her?”

Shoko stops in her tracks, laying her head to the side in nothing but confusion.

“Huh, what are you talking about? (y/n)’s your wife after all, why wouldn’t I tell her?”

“What if she doesn’t recognize me? What if she’s freaked out by me? What if she brings our daughter with her?”

His sweaty palms begin to shake uncontrollably. In his life, Kento Nanami lost a lot of things: Jobs, money, people, good friends. But oh god, the thought of losing you, his precious little family. It truly kills him from the inside.

“Stop talking nonsense. Being pathetic doesn’t suit you at all”, Shoko remarks dryly.

His widen eyes dart towards the door, waiting in nothing but thick fear for your arrival. Was this afternoon the last time you looked at him as lovingly as you always did? Was it the last time his daughter kissed his right cheek before she left the house? It can’t be, it just can’t turn out like that.

But you deserve so much better. Damn, you are straight up gorgeous, a woman who turns heads on a regular basis. You need more than a crippled man by your side, more than one half of the man you used to know. He wouldn’t even be mad if your eyes lose the spark they hold for him when you see him today.

“I’m leaving now. Something seems to be off. I’m trying to get back by dinner.”

“Why do you have to go this early? I thought we’d have a little time for ourselves. Since our precious little angel is still at kindergarten and I have the afternoon off…”

Your hands roamed around his broad chest, eyes filled with nothing but affection and love. You were always bad at hiding your feelings, your bright orbs being the centre of his universe. God, how much he wanted to lock the door behind you, how much he longed for your touch. But this sounded serious.

“As much as I’d love to take that offer immediately, the young ones need me, (y/n). But I will return as soon as possible and then we’ll finish what you started.”

“Promise it”, you demanded, a small understanding smile decorating your delicate lips while he held your body so tightly against his.

“I promise it. I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

One last longing kiss on your forehead. One last kiss before he left your house with a last “I love you” shouted into thin air.  

“Damn”, he hisses through gritted teeth, pain pulsating through his whole body, taking his sight.

What is his life worth without you in it?

-(y/n)’s POV-

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

“Hey, hold your head up high, angel. Everything will turn out alright, okay? Daddy is a hero, after all”, you reassure your daughter softly while secretly wiping away a falling tear.

When Shoko called you a few minutes ago, your feet begin to carry you on their own, heart hammering against your aching chest. Your loving husband, the man who gifted you with the precious daughter who holds your hand tightly. She didn’t tell you what happened to him, how he feels. But her tone was as urgent as never before, making you storm down the dark streets of Tokyo in pouring rain until you finally arrived at Jujutsu High, opening the well-known doors to the hospital wing with trembling hands.

Please, let him be alright. Maybe injured, but alive. Maybe distressed, but all in all fine.

Please, let your husband be alright.

You wander down the cold hallways, eyes roaming around the area in a desperate attempt to spot your husband somewhere between the countless injured people. Where is he? Where did they put him?

Suddenly, your orbs get stuck on a wave of pink hair.

“Yuji?” you breathe out.

“Mommy, there’s Yuji!”, the excited voice of your little daughter next to you cries out, already on her way to storm towards the pink-haired boy.

You can’t hold back. Out of instinct you follow her tiny feet, embracing the boy in front of you in a tight hug.

“Please tell me you’re alright, tell me you feel well”, you whisper into his ear.

In an instant, tears start to swell up his eyes, soaking through the fabric of your elegant autumn dress. Your heart shatters into a million pieces, hands gently stroking through his hair.

“I’m not. I’m far away from feeling well, (y/n)”, he cries against your neck, letting himself fall completely against your frame.

Oh Yuji. You hate to see him like that, his thick tears falling like the pouring rain outside.

“I’m sorry for letting Nanami-sensei down, I’m sorry for all the things I did, I-“

“Don’t talk any further. I’m sure you did your best, Yuji. And I know Kento is very proud of you. Please, get some rest now, okay? Did Shoko already check on you? Hey, do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“You can sleep in my room!” your daughter suggests in an instant, hugging Yuji’s leg while looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Thank you, I’m okay. You should look after Nanami-sensei. After all you’re here because of him and not because of me, right?”

“I will always look after you, Yuji. But yes, I’d really like to see my husband right now”, you reply tenderly.

“Is my dad alright?”

“He’s in room 018 down the hall. Please…tell him I’m sorry”, Yuji mutters.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, thank you for your help, Yuji. Come on darling, let’s go see daddy.”

You let out your shaky breath, hand holding onto the doorknob. Finally. You will definitely pay Yuji a visit later on. But know, you have to focus on him. Finally, you’re able to see your husband again.

“Kento, I’m here-“

“Don’t look at me. Get out and never come back”, his harsh voice instructs you.

There he sits, back faces towards you will a white cloak covering his upper body. Your mind begins to race, his punitive tone being to unusual. Not even when discussing, your husband ever turned this cold. What has gotten into him?

“Hi daddy!” your daughter greets her father with all excitement.

His heart breaks in an instant. Why? Why on earth do you have to be here? And why did you have to bring your daughter with you? Why do you have to see him like that?

“I am not the man you fell in love with anymore, (y/n).”

The bitterness in his voice makes you squint your eyes while walking towards him.

“What are you talking about, Kento? I might love you even more after you survived this hell”, you reply in an instant.

“Daddy, what happened to your face?”

Like in slow motion he turns around, revealing severe burns on the left side of his body and his eye covered in bandages. Your heart skips a beat. Oh god, what happened to your poor husband?

“Who did this to you, love?”

“It doesn’t matter how or who. But I understand that I’m not the man you married anymore. I am only half of the man I used to be. So if you want to leave me behind, if you want to take care of our daughter alone-“

He is forced to stop mid-sentence by the way his little daughter presses her tiny body onto his lap, hugging him as tightly as never before. And your gaze that makes time stand still. Your gaze that isn’t filled with disgust like he imagined.

No, your look holds nothing but love and gratitude.

“You can’t imagine how happy I am to see that you are well. When Shoko called me I thought we’ll might lose you. Kento, I…I love you with all my heart. The thought of letting you go, the thought of never seeing you again. I’m so glad.”

And then you sprint towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck carefully with your loving gaze never leaving him.

All pain seems to vanish, nothing else but you matter. Your eyes always tell the truth, he knows all too well. And right now, they scream at him in nothing put the pureness of love while a tear runs down your smiling delicate mouth.

“Now you look like a hero, daddy”, his daughter mumbles against his chest, smiling up at him so widely that even Kento Nanami can’t hold back any longer.

“Because he is, sweetheart. Your dad is a hero”, you clarify with shaky voice, pressing a kiss against his right cheek.

“You aren’t disgusted? Even though I look nothing like the man you fell in love with an never will?”, you mutters.

Gently, your hand caresses his uninjured cheek.

“Nothing will ever distress my love for you. No scar in the world will stop me from loving you with all my heart. I’m so glad you came back to me alive. Nothing else matters.”

“I think you look cool, daddy!”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. For the first time in his life, he isn’t able to keep his composure any longer. A tear of joy, a tear of gratitude. Of course, Nanami was always very aware of what a wonderful woman you are and how well you cared for his little daughter as well. But oh, seeing both of you with your arms wrapped around him, gazing at him with nothing but love and tenderness in your orbs…

Your eyes never lied at him.

How does he even deserve this? How does a simple man like Kento Nanami deserve such a loving wife and daughter made of pure gold?

“We need a cool name for you now, daddy.”

“Daddy first needs all his energy to get well again, sweetheart. But yes, you are right. After all, every hero has a special name, right?”, you reply, chuckling over your very own falling tears.

“I’m not a hero, darling”, Nanami contradicts, running his hand through his daughter’s hair softly.

“But to me you are, daddy. And to mommy too.”

“Indeed. And when all of this is over, I’ll take you to Malaysia”, you confirm, cuddling against his chest while resting your eyes.

“Malaysia, huh? Sounds great…”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk shibuya arc #shibuya #shibuya incident #jjk season two #jjk hurt #jjk comfort #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen shibuya arc #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kento #jjk nanami #jjk kento #jjk kento nanami #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami jjk #nanamin #nanami my beloved #nanami x reader #itadori yuji #yujin #yuji itadori #itadori #jjk s2 spoilers

[myseungsunglove]

More than Willing | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x reader 

Warnings: Smut, piv sex, no protection (Wrap it before you tap it and all that advice) friends to lovers, language 

Word Count: 3.5k

𖠫Summary: Seungmin has been your constant since the moment you joined JYP Entertainment. He’s been your safe haven and your biggest supporter. When you became the 9th addition to Stray Kids in 2020, it only brought the two of you closer, but over the years there has been an unspeakable tension boiling at the surface, just waiting for a weak spot to break through and rear it's tempting head. 

✎A/N✎: This has been in rolling around in my head for a few weeks now. I think I’ve played it out enough that it’s time to put one to paper. Hope you enjoy. 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© February 28, 2024 by myseungsunglove」

XMDNIX

“Oh. My. God.” you sigh dramatically as you plop onto the king size bed in your NYC hotel room. “I can’t believe that just happened!” you giggle and groan all in one breath. “God I’m sore,” you grumble, throwing your arms to the side of you so that you look like a starfish on display in the bed. 

“Pff,” Seungmin scoffs playfully as he knees the foot that is dangling off the edge of the bed. “Welcome to life on tour,” he smiles down at you. “I can give you one of my famous massages later,” he teases, winking at you. “How does it feel to have your first performance in the US as a member of Stray Kids behind you?” 

You smile and sigh happily, reaching out a hand so he can help you up. He takes it gladly, moving to help you sit up, but instead he finds himself being pulled onto the bed, toppling not so gracefully on top of you with an exasperated laugh. You grunt at the weight of his body landing on you, but can’t help the laugh that escapes you. 

“It feels like I’m on cloud 9 with a 120 pound weight on my chest,” you tease, looking up into his eyes as he remains where he landed. 

“God, sorry,” he giggles, pushing himself off of you and rolling to lay beside you. “There really isn’t anything quite like that post concert high, is there?” He smiles wide, looking at you and a laugh tumbles from him. The cadence of his laugh sounds like a song. It’s beautiful and contagious and before you know it, you’re both giggling for absolutely no reason other than the sheer joy of the occasion.

 After the laughing fit has passed, you let your arm fall across Sungmin's chest. It lands with a dramatic thud and a low umph is punched from his lungs. You chuckle again and work hard to keep another giggling fit at bay.

“The only thing that makes it better is that I get to spend it with my best friend,” you sigh, running your hand along his chest over the Maniac hoodie he is still wearing. “But fuck my muscles hurt like a bitch,” you laugh again as you smack his chest playfully and sit up with an exhausted sigh. “I really need a shower,” you add, pushing your hair out of your face. It’s late June in New York, and it’s a hot one. 

“Yeah you do,” Seungmin smirks beside you. “You kinda smell,” he teases, sniffing the air and pulling a disgusted face. “Dibs on the shower first!” He laughs, jumping up from the bed and darting into the huge bathroom.

“Ya! Kim Seungmin you little shit!” you yell after him, hot on his tail only to have the door slam in your face. The last thing you see is a braces filled smile gleaming at you followed by maniacal laughter from behind the door. “Ah fuck you!” 

“You wish!” he sing songs as he turns on the shower. You do a 180 and stomp dramatically into the living area, throwing yourself on the couch. Your head thuds against the back of it and you are starkly reminded just how sore your muscles are. This is your first world tour with the boys, having joined them right at the start of Covid and you didn’t realize just how demanding “regular” idol life could be. All you had known was life as a “Covid idol” as you liked to joke. It was still busy, but this was a whole new level of busy. Not to mention you were already prepping for a comeback in October. 

You grabbed your phone from the coffee table and turned on your playlist. Seungmin’s voice from his Hometown Cha Cha Cha OST rings out and you can’t help but laugh. His voice is your favorite in the whole world. You still can’t believe he is your best friend. You look around the room and sigh happily. The two of you always share a room when traveling, even when the company gets everyone else their own room. Seungmin always insists that he be with you, for safety reasons, he claims. 

Sure you do feel a little more at ease with him in the same room when you are far from the safety of your dorms, but Seungmin knows you can handle yourself. The company initially forced you to room with someone, putting you with staff the first times you traveled. While you love each of them dearly, it hadn’t been the kind of experience you wanted or wanted to continue while traveling with SKZ and Seungmin had made sure that he was the one you roomed with from that point on. 

You breathe deeply and gradually your breaths slow and you drift into a light sleep. 

You’re eventually  stirred by a quiet albeit dramatic sigh. 

“I was gonna give you one of my famous massages,” Seungmin laments. You can hear his arms lift from his side and slap back down against his hips dramatically. 

“I’m awake,” you start, opening your eyes and blinking a few times as Seungmin’s figure comes into view. 

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. You rub your eyes and when you open them again, you're surprised by the view. Seungmin has a towel still draped over his hips, his hair still wet. Usually he’d already be donning a white oversized T-shirt and a black pair of basketball shorts. 

You lift a scrutinizing eyebrow at him, and can’t help but let your eyes roam his body. His shoulders are broad and his chest wide. He hides it under all his oversized clothes, but he has a well built torso despite not spending a lot of time in the gym. He is dedicated to perfecting dances, and that’s evident in his build. He’s slim and toned, defined without excess. Solid. Steady.  His waist is tiny, smaller than yours, and his thighs are surprisingly thick though you can’t see them for the towel, but you know. 

Seungmin clears his throat and laughs. 

“Ya! My eyes are up here, perv,” he teases. 

A blush pulls onto your face and you stand quickly. A satisfied smirk creeps onto Seungmin’s face and the unspoken tension that’s been dancing between the two of you for the better part of a year has manifested itself right into the room with you. 

“Bought damn time,” you huff, standing and heading for the bathroom. “And you better not have been lying about that massage,” you add, your hand grazing Seungmin’s bare chest as you walk by him. He shakes his shoulders a little at your touch and tossels his wet hair around. You know goosebumps have pricked up on his skin. You don’t look back at him but you hear him clear his throat and sigh loudly as he falls against the couch with a chuckle. You can’t help but smile yourself as you step into the bathroom and close the door. 

You’re not sure how long you spend in there, but the room is full of steam and hot as hell when you finally step out and grab a towel, wrapping it around your torso. You use another towel to dry your hair so that it isn’t soaking wet and pull open the bathroom door, steam billowing out into the room, announcing your departure from the bathroom. 

“Fuck it’s hot out here too,” you complain, looking around for Seungmin. 

“You know I don’t turn down the air if I can help it,” Seungmin says. He is lying on the couch where you left him, with a towel still draped over his hips. 

“It’s not good for…”

“Not good for our voices, I know,” you interrupt him with a laugh. “Why are you still half naked?” you ask as you move into the bedroom and plop onto the bed again, holding the towel close to you so it doesn't fall. 

Seungmin isn’t far behind you and laughs at you sprawled across the bed. “Cause it’s hot as balls,” he says as he walks over to his suitcase and pulls out a pair of black shorts. He tugs them on and pulls the towel off. “You’re still half naked,” he notes, walking into the bathroom to hang it up.

“How bout that massage?” you joke as he returns to the room, still bare chested, his hands pushing his hair out of his face only to have it fall back onto his forehead, his efforts fruitless.

“Promise is a promise,” he shrugs, walking back into the bathroom. 

“You didn’t exactly promise, but if you’re willing I’m not complaining,” you sigh and pull a pillow under your head and shuffle around getting comfortable. 

“I’m more than willing,” he chuckles as he returns from the bathroom, your favorite lotion in hand. 

More than willing. You try not to let that phrase stick in your brain too much, but you can’t help but wonder what he means by it. 

“You trust me, yeah?” he asks, a serious demeanor overtaking him suddenly. His eyes meet yours and there is something there you don’t recognize. 

“Of course I do Seung,” you smile, a little nervously. 

He squeezes some lotion onto his hand, rubbing his large hands together as he keeps his eyes on you. He reaches down and grabs your foot, massaging gently as he asks his next question. 

“If you want me to stop, you’ll tell me?” He presses his thumb into the arch of your foot and a small moan escapes you. 

“Yes,” you breathe out as he sets one foot down and gives the other the same treatment. 

“Yes what?” he asks, and there is a teasing lilt to his voice now but a sense of command there as well. 

“Yes, I’ll tell you to stop if that’s what I want,” you sigh as his hands move up to your calf and knead into them. You take a deep breath when both his hands slide over your knees and squeeze earnestly at your thighs. You don’t mean for the quiet moan to escape you, but Seungmin’s hands have always been good at this. However, he has never touched you quite like this. There is something different about the way his hands move up and down your thighs, your skin on fire as he moves his long fingers to the outside of your thighs and up along where your leg and hip meet. 

You realize the towel has ridden up and remember you are still completely naked underneath. 

Seungmin seems to notice your embarrassment and digs deeper into your hips and chuckles when you moan louder, your hands flying up to your face. 

“I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he says, his hands not leaving your body as they move up your sides and under the towel. “Though, this would be easier without the towel,” he says quietly, his hands dancing along your sides lightly. 

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you open the towel and let it fall to your sides, completely naked before him. 

He shoots up suddenly, his hands off you in seconds as he turns around quickly. He runs his hands through his hair and his head falls forward as his long fingers dig into his neck, his elbows resting against his knees. You can’t help but watch the way his back ripples with his movements and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and running your hands over his shoulders.  

“God, y/n, warn a guy first,” he chuckles nervously. 

“You said it’d be easier,” you reply, reaching out and running your hand along his arm, pulling at it to get him to look at your face. “And maybe I want you to look,” you add when his big brown boba eyes meet yours. His tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip as his eyes dart down briefly at your mouth and back up to your eyes. His stare is intense and you feel like your body is on fire from the inside out from his look alone, and he hasn’t even really looked at you, but the thought  propels you forward. 

You take his hand and place it on your ribs, your hand resting gently over his. His fingers splay across your skin slowly and then squeeze at your sides, causing you to arch into his touch. He turns around then his knees back on the bed as his other hand lands on your ribs. He squeezes them, his hands slowly sliding up under your breast and back down again, causing you to let out a breath that you don’t realize you are holding. 

You can’t take the tension anymore. You feel like you’re going to burst if you don’t do something. 

“Kiss me,” the words fall desperately from your lips as your chest heaves tremulously under Seungmin’s gaze and touch. 

His mouth gapes slightly, but when you reach out and touch his neck, his brain catches up and he lets you pull him down to your face. 

“You want me to kiss you?” he asks, his eyes roaming your face as his hands stay firmly on your sides. 

“God yes,” you breathe out and that seems to be all the permission he needs. His hands tuck under your back and he pulls your body flush against him as his lips find yours. You’d been watching Seungmin sing for years, but nothing prepared you for how soft his lips are. Your chests are pressed against each other as your mouths open to each other, his tongue slipping between your lips and tasting you in earnest. You cling to him as he rolls you to lay on top of him, his hands roaming your back as he kisses you breathless. 

When your lungs are on fire and your skin ablaze and flushed, he pulls away, your name a whisper on Seungmin’s mouth. His lips are swollen and puffy and he looks  more beautiful than you have ever seen him, his skin flushed and his hair a disheveled mess. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes with a laugh as you kiss along his jaw and down his neck. “Fuck,” he moans when you nip at his pulse point then lave your tongue over it to smooth the ache. “Are we really doing this?” he asks, his hands settling on your hips.

“I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted you like this Seungmin,” you admit as you roll over beside him and hide behind your hands, suddenly starkly aware of the situation at hand, of the position you now find yourself in. 

Seungmin quickly moves on top of you, his hips settling against yours, his covered erection evident against your cunt as he rolls his hips into you. He moves your hands away from your face before he speaks. 

“Then have me,” he breathes out desperately, his lips locking with yours. He kisses you hard and deep and you can feel his braces against you as he moves against your lips. Your hands run down his back and over his hips as you desperately push his shorts past his ass. He lifts off you slightly, not wanting to break the kiss and pulls the shorts off completely, kicking them off as he settles back between your legs, his hard cock now running through your folds and your sweaty bodies moving slowly against one another.

 His hands are everywhere at once as he takes his opportunity to  move his kisses across your jaw and down the column of your neck. His lips trail across your collarbone and he sucks several marks onto your skin as you moan desperately and arch into his mouth. When his lips find your hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it before sucking it into your mouth, a broken sob shakes your body. 

Seungmin lavishes your body with attention before trailing his way back up to your mouth. He kisses you slowly, his hips canting against yours as he confesses. 

“I can’t believe you want me too,” he breathes against your lips, his hand softly holding your face as his thumb swipes across your cheek. “My beautiful best friend. My y/n,” he sighs and kisses you again. “I love you,” he pants against your mouth. 

“Then show me how much,” you respond, your legs falling open more. 

He reaches between your bodies and grasps his dick in hand, running it through your folds before lining himself up with your wet entrance. “You're sure?” he asks, the head of his cock breaching you slowly.

You arch into him, your hands running down his back and settling on his ass as you help him ease into you. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Minnie,” you let out your airy confession. “I love you so fucking much.” 

His lips find yours again, his hand on the side of your face and in that moment, you think you could lie there and kiss him forever and be completely satisfied. It’s only when he pulls out of you and slowly slides back in, his hips meeting yours and pressing hard against your body, that a moan falls from you and your brought back to the reality that you’re fucking your best friend. No, you're making love to your best friend. 

His hips find a slow and steady rhythm as he pulls away from your lips just enough to look into your eyes as he pushes in and pulls out of you. Your mouth falls open, small puffs of air cascading out of you with each press of his hips, his cock reaching that spot inside of you that sets you on fire in a whole new way. 

Your hands roam his back and move up to his shoulder, his pace slowly picking up as you squeeze around him, your head thrown back in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” you moan, moving your body to meet his as you start to feel that coil tighten in your abdomen. 

“Fuck,” Seungmin echos, as your bodies slap together, his stomach tightening, that blissful release eminent. “Y/n, I’m gonna come,” he warns.

Your legs wrap around his hips, holding him to you as he drives into you, his rhythm now erratic. He reaches between you and starts to rub circles around your clit. 

“Seungmin,” you moan and arch into his touch, your walls squeezing around him. That’s all it takes for him to spill into you, his pace briefly quickening when his climax hits him. That’s what pulls you over the edge, his hands moving to your hips once he feels you flutter around him, his seed warm as it overflows from your pussy and drips down over his balls and down your ass as you quiver beneath him.

Your hands reach out for his face, pulling him into a kiss once more. 

“I love you, Kim Seungmin,” you whisper against his lips as he settles against your body, his hand running up and down your sides lovingly as he kisses you slowly again. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he confesses, looking into your eyes. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” his cheeks blush and you place your hands on both sides of his face. 

“You have me now,” you tell him, pulling him in again to kiss him hard. 

Suddenly he is laughing against your kiss and pulls away from you. 

“I don’t think this probably helped with your muscle soreness,” he jokes, pulling out of you and moving to get up from the bed. 

You laugh out loud, slapping his chest as he pulls away from you, his hand reaching out to pull you up. 

“Definitely made it worse,” you agree with a playful laugh. “Not that I mind,” you add as he pulls you up from the bed. 

“Shower,” he says as he tugs you toward the bathroom. “This time I won’t lock you out,” he winks as you step into the bathroom and he moves to turn on the shower. “You’ll  really get that massage now,” he smiles mischievously, pulling you into the shower with him. 

Your laughter is muffled by a teasing kiss and you can’t help but think what a wonderful tour this is going to turn out to be. 

#seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #Kim Seungmin Smut #Kim Seungmin Drabble #Seungmin One Shot #Seungmin smut #skz smut #Kim Seungmin One Shot

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

INEVITABLE [2]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, mentions of the slave trade, canon violence, blood and injuries

word count: 6,030

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

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02: FALLING FOR YOU

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"courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyways. stupidity is the same. and that's why life is hard." ⏤jeremy goldberg

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It had been a very long time since Din was nervous before a hunt. Wary, maybe, or concerned, but not nervous. He had retreated to the Razor Crest for the night, needing the time to mentally and emotionally spiral while in the safety of his own ship, then the next day he started tracking you down once more. Din thought surely you would’ve left Bespin entirely, but he tracked you back to a cantina. A different cantina. But still.

 Just as he had yesterday, Din simply stepped into the building. He had planned to be more tactful today, but realizing you were in another cantina had been curious enough to throw him off entirely. You sat at the bar this time, turned so you could lean your back against the counter, with pretty eyes glancing around the room. Your eyes darted to him, away, then back again. Din expected a lot of reactions to his presence, but he never would’ve guessed that you’d roll your eyes with a huff and turn back around. 

What the hell?

Din crossed the room. Grogu whined from inside the closed pram floating behind him. The child hated being locked away, and Din hated locking him away, but he didn’t trust himself around this quarry. And that’s what you were. A quarry. He had to remind himself of that again.

“Can I buy you a drink, bucket head?” You asked. Din narrowed his eyes at you in a glare⏤ knowing good and well you couldn’t see it, but it made him feel better to do it. You glanced over your shoulder at him with that same infuriating smirk you shot him yesterday. “What’s your poison of choice?”

“You’re coming with me.” Din demanded.

“Mmm, no thanks.”

Din shook his head, “That wasn’t a choice.”

“It kind of felt like a choice when I kicked your ass yesterday and ran.” You snickered. “Mandalorian.”

The way you said his title was mocking and it made Din’s skin bristle with irritation. His hands drifted to his hips and he leaned in toward you. “Get up now.”

You groaned. “Seriously, bucket head⏤”

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped.

“⏤what do I have to do to get you off my back?” You had continued on, unphased by his demeanor. “Credits? Is that what gets you going in the morning?” You turned back around, maintaining your confident posture, and it put your face by his. “I can get you some credits. Probably. Do you take IOUs?”

Din tried to keep his composure. He had dealt with plenty of quarries who mouthed off to him, but this was the quickest it had actually worked. Din leaned back to stand tall once more. You quirked an eyebrow up at him and he locked his jaw. He wondered if you could hear his teeth grind together. Din reached to his belt, pulling off the binders, and slammed them on the counter by you.

“Put them on.”

“That’s a bit lazy of you, don’t you think?” You replied. “At least all the other hunters I faced did their own dirty work.”

Briefly, Din felt a flash of anger at the thought of a bunch of hunters manhandling you. It was gone as quick as it came, and the feeling was replaced with annoyance that it came at all. This soulmate thing was becoming a real nuisance. Fine. You wanted to make this difficult? Din would be the bounty hunter you expected him to be.

Din grabbed you by the wrist roughly, spinning you in your seat so he could twist your arm behind you. His other hand grasped you by the back of the neck and he slammed you into the counter. The sound of your grunt of pain made his grip marginally loosen. He leaned in once more, “Anything to say now?”

“Now? No.” You replied. “But I’ll let you know if I think of something.”

If Din thought fate had been ridiculous before for picking a quarry as his soulmate, he was really hating it now. Not only was his soulmate a quarry, but it was a smartass slave trader with the most aggravating of smirks. Maker, he was looking forward to shoving you into the carbonite freezer. Din grabbed the binders off the counter and connected it to both your wrists behind your back. He ripped you up and out of your seat then without a beat he began to shove you out of the cantina. 

You begun to kick your feet, slowing your pace, and Din grabbed you by your upper arm so he could drag you along as needed. Din turned his head to look at you in skepticism. Yesterday, you had been quick to plan an escape route, but now you were going willingly? He didn’t trust it.

“Tell me, why would you go to a second cantina knowing I’m chasing you?” Din blurted.

“You want me to just reveal my grand master plan? I think not.” You chuckled. “You can just keep on wondering, bucket head.”

“It’s… reckless.” Din wanted to use the word ‘stupid’, but he couldn’t force it out.

You shrugged best you could with his hand wrapped tightly around your arm. “I’m reckless. What’s your point?” He shouldn’t have even asked. Din shook his head and mumbled curses under his breath. He was able to get you a few more streets over before you cried out in pain and hunched over. “Ow, ow. Wait⏤ Hang on.”

Din’s feet skidded to a stop. “What?”

“My leg. I just⏤ Let me lean for a second, okay?” You grunted and limped over with him in tow to lean against a hand railing. Din looked for any obvious injuries. “You’ve been dragging me down the road, you ass.”

Guilt rolled through him like a crashing wave no matter how much he tried to hold it back. His fingers loosened around your upper arm. Half a sigh left his lips a fist suddenly slammed up into his side right under his diaphragm making his breath stutter. Din spun, but you had already hooked one end of the binders around his wrist and the other to the metal bar you had been leaned against. He went to grab you, but you threw yourself over the bar and away from him. His hand shot to his blaster, but Din found it in your hand.

“How…” He breathed and glanced down at his situation.

Din reached for the keys on his belt, but while one of your hands held him at blaster point the other held up the keys. He blinked in shock. Din would never admit it aloud, he could barely admit it to himself, but he was mildly impressed. In fact, he’d be very impressed if his anger wasn’t overshadowing everything else.

“I’m a pickpocket. Should’ve warned you.” You shrugged. “Listen, how about we end our working relationship here.” Din huffed and tried to pull his arm free from the metal bar uselessly. “I’ve hit all the cantinas I need to in this city so I’m gonna be on my way, and I’m gonna leave you here. Let’s just agree to part ways as bitter friends.”

Din gnashed his teeth. “Release me. Now.”

“Yikes.” You made a clicking noise with your mouth. “You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands, bucket head.” You threw the key over your shoulder and then tossed the blaster as well⏤ so both would be out of reach from him. “It was so nice to meet you, by the way. Would love to never meet up again.”

You winked at him and he glared at you the entire time you sprinted away. Din turned to the pram to see Grogu had already opened the hatch and was staring at him. Din tugged on the binders once more, fruitlessly, then motioned to them. Grogu hopped out of his pram with a mischievous giggle and Din let his head fall against the metal bar with a ‘clang’. 

The Mandalorian was pestering. You had a bad feeling he wouldn’t just give up. In fact, arguably, he could come after you with a vengeance after you hooked him to a metal bar. He’d get out free, but you hoped you could get a few worlds away before he did. You had a feeling no matter who he asked on the street to grab the key and blaster they’d steer around him without making eye contact. The faults of being an intimidating Mandalorian, you supposed.

You were on your way back to the local tarmac in hopes that you could bum a ride off someone. As you walked, you had pulled out your list to scratch names off. Technically, there were a few other places you needed to check, other cities, but it’d be a little awkward for you to sit in your third cantina of this world and have the Mandalorian walk in again. Maybe for now you’d put off the rest of Bespin and come back later.

“Lookie, lookie.” A whiny voice sang in a tone that made you wince. A slimy looking human stepped into your path from around the corner. A group of four other unfamiliar men stepped out behind him. He whistled. “The Mandalorian’s friend is all alone.”

You narrowed your eyes in disbelief. “Friend? Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy.” He snapped. “We saw you with him.”

“Yeah, alright, and what part of seeing us together made you think we’re friends?” You scoffed. “Was it the part where I broke a bar stool over his head or when he put me in a pair of binders?”

The men behind the first began to mumble skeptically, but the first refused to cave, “No, no. I’m telling you the two of them are⏤ look! Look, here he comes to save her already!” You stiffened in shock and whirled around to see the silver Mandalorian stalking toward you from down the road. How in the hell had he gotten out that quickly? “What did I tell you, boys?”

You scanned the area. To your right were the backs of buildings and the closest alley was further down, beyond the men blocking you. To your left was literally nothing. A protective guard rail and a view of the clouds. So that was out. And now you had a fucking bounty hunter stalking you from behind. Great.

“How about this,” You hissed, “Let me pass then you can beat up on the tin can, yeah?”

“Boss, I don’t think she’s⏤”

“Fine, fine, whatever.” The man snapped. “Get the kriff out of our way.” You gave the Mandalorian, who had paused, a brief salute and hurried past the men who left a space for you. You got a few steps away when you heard the man speak once more. “Don’t forget, I want that beskar. As for the kid, we can just sell it.”

You came to a screeching stop. A chill ran up your spine. A kid? You turned around to see the men slowly approaching the Mandalorian who continued to stand his ground. The pram behind him now rested right beside him and the hatch was open to reveal a small, green creature with large ears and wide, innocent eyes. A kid. Fuck.

The men had completely forgotten about you to focus on the Mandalorian so not a single one of them noticed when you began to approach them once more. In a swift, practiced motion, you drew your dagger and threw it with a precision that came from years of ingrained muscle memory. The blade buried itself into the back of the closest man, and his scream of agony made his friends pause and whirl back around. The Mandalorian took this as his opportunity to strike.

You lunged forward to get your blade back while hiding behind the man’s body best you could to avoid being hit by stray blaster fire. He spun, startling you, and began to swing out to try and make contact. You ducked under his arms to avoid a blow but that put you further into the fray. You didn’t notice the attack coming from your side until an elbow slammed into your face. You heard a crunch, felt the warm blood spray down your face, and with a groan, you hit the ground dazed. One on one you did fairly well in a fight, but more than that and you struggled. You rolled over and glanced up to see even more people showed up to the fight⏤ all friends of the ones you were fighting. They came up from behind the Mandalorian. 

Once you were on the ground, it seemed like nobody cared about your presence at all. They swarmed the bounty hunter in a mass. You knew beskar was rare, but this seemed like overkill. A young cry filled the air and you spotted one of the men rushing toward you with a squirming bundle in his arms. The roar of anger that left the Mandalorian was ground shaking, words in a language you didn’t recognize ringing loudly, and it was followed by a wave of fire from his vambrace as he took on every single adversary that came at him.

You jumped up as the guy with the kid rushed by, and on instinct you ran after. Your face throbbed with pain, but you didn't let it hinder your speed. Luck was on your side and the man ended up cornering himself by staying too close to the railing. When he tried to turn down a different road you were able to cut him off and back him up against the guard rail once more. 

He reached for the blaster at his hip, but you were faster. You drew the weapon from under your jacket and aimed it at his head. “Don’t.”

“What?” The man narrowed his eyes. “What the kriff is that?”

“Firearm.” You replied. “Nice, isn’t it?” He shifted and you tilted your head. “The slug in this weapon isn’t meant for you. Set the kid down, and I’ll let you walk away.”

The child in his arms squirmed enough to be able to look at you and even from this distance you still couldn’t tell what species it was. But, you could see the kid was young⏤ a toddler at best. You stayed firm in your stance, and the man was nervously shifting as if trying to gauge how serious you were. As if to prove your point further, you pulled back on the revolver’s hammer so the slug clicked into place.

Slowly, the man held the kid away from his chest in surrender but he stopped suddenly, “How do I know you won’t shoot me the second I hand the kid over?”

“I told you,” You said, “This slug has someone else’s name on it.”

“What about the Mandalorian?” He cried. “He’ll kill me.”

“Probably.” You shrugged. “But I figure, you set the kid down and you’ll have time to run at the very least. You hurt the kid, and that block of angry beskar is going to stomp your teeth down your throat.” You gave him a mocking grin. “So, make your choice and make it quick.”

Blaster fire came much too close and you had to duck to avoid being hit by a stray bolt. The Mandalorian was barreling in your direction while the last few fighters fired after him. He barked something and you turned back to see the man holding the kid had been hit. He slumped to the side, hitting the guard rail, and with a surprised chirp the kid went right over the side of the city. 

You dropped the firearm and leapt over the edge right after him.

It was perhaps one of your least thought out plans, but the moment your hands grasped the kid you spun in the air and used all the momentum you had to throw him right back over the rail. The few broken bones or concussion he might get from being thrown so violently was better than the fate you were about to meet. Loud wind whipped past you as you fell. This is not how you thought you’d be leaving the world of the living and despite your entire body being filled to the brim with terror and fear as you hurtled through the air there was still just enough room for regret to take root.

Not regret at leaping over the edge for a kid you didn’t know.

Regret that you never got to see the life leave Viktor’s greedy eyes.

Nothing could have surprised you more than a solid force tackling you from behind. The air left your lungs while firm arms wrapped around you and the trajectory of your fall changed as you were suddenly being rocketed up. Glancing over your shoulder best you could, you spotted a chest of silver beskar. Before you could comprehend what was happening your feet touched down on solid ground. The hands wrapped around you dropped and you found yourself falling to your hands and knees⏤ still shaky from falling a few hundred feet.

“Patu.” A chirp followed by excited babbling made you lift your head to see the child standing right in front of you. He reached out and gave your face a little pat. He looked entirely unharmed. The situation was starting to become clear once more and you saw your firearm lying on the ground out of your peripherals. 

You lunged for the weapon, but a heavy boot dropped down to rest on it⏤ pining it to the ground. Sheepishly, you peered up to see the Mandalorian staring down at you with his hands on his hips. You pressed your lips together and then scrunched your nose out of habit only to wince in pain from the movement. You cleared your throat. “We, uh, need to stop meeting like this.”

“Get up.” He said tensely. You sighed and pushed to stand, dusting off your pants, and tried to puzzle out if you could make a clean getaway by breaking into a sprint now. The Mandalorian stepped forward, lifting a hand to your face and you flinched back. “Stop. Stay still.”

The bounty hunter’s hands cupped your face in an almost tender way. Your eyes widened in confusion both at his actions and the flickering flame of warmth that sparked in your belly at being this close to a man who was hunting you. His hands shifted, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, and then he used both thumbs to snap your nose into place. You let out a howl of pain and shoved him back, “What the⏤” You lifted to touch your nose and realized it wasn’t nearly as tender anymore. “What the hell, man!?”

“Your nose was broken.” He replied.

“Yeah? Well, warn a girl!” You scoffed.

The Mandalorian tilted his head. “Would you have let me fix it if I warned you?” No. Of course not. You mocked him under your breath by mumbling his words. He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my son.”

You glanced back at the small child standing by your boot now. He gave your leg a little pat before waddling over to this father. The Mandalorian picked him up and you wondered if the man under the armor was just as green as the kid. How did he fit ears like that under his helmet?

You pointed down to his boot, “That’s mine. Giving it back to me and letting me walk away would be a real cool thank you gift.” The metal pram from earlier drifted toward the two of you and when it came to a stop the boy jumped from the armored arms holding him into the floating crib. You were surprised to see the man move his boot out of the way and bend over to pick up your weapon. The Mandalorian held it out to you and your lips twitched up in excitement. “Glad to see we could settle this, bucket head.”

The second your hand grabbed the firearm you realized he wasn’t letting it go, but before you could tug or even speak his other hand shot up and clicked one binder around your wrist. You gasped, “You dick.” You could’ve sworn a chuckle left the helmet’s modulator. He tucked the firearm into his belt and then clicked the other half of the binder to his own wrist. “Is this because I called you bucket head?”

“That didn’t help.”

“So, I save your kid, and you still arrest me?”

“Yes.” He nodded and leaned into your space to pull the blade from the sheath around your thigh. He tucked that into his belt as well and took a few steps away. You dug your heels in. “Walk.”

“What about⏤”

“Walk.”

You grumbled in annoyance and picked up your feet. He seemed nonplussed with having to drag you down the road and it looked like his end goal was the tarmac where you had initially planned to be. The pram lingered beside you and the green child was babbling excitedly as if the two of you were having a full blown conversation. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Your kid talks a lot.” You said, tugging on the arm connected to him⏤ not that it seemed to bother him.

“So do you.” He hit back.

“That’s…fair.” You admitted. “Where are you taking the savior of your child?”

“I could’ve saved him without you.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, well, if I knew you had a kriffing jackpack I would’ve let you.” The Mandalorian came to a sudden stop and it jerked on your arm. “Bucket head, come on! Seriously?”

“You didn’t know I had a jetpack?”

You narrowed your eyes at him trying to figure out the catch behind this obvious trick question. You shook your head. “Why would I know that?”

“When we met, I saw you watching me.” He replied. “You were checking me for all my weapons.”

You winked, “Maybe I was just checking you out.”

“Stop.” The Mandalorian said firmly and started walking again. The two of you got a few more feet before he spoke up once more. “If you didn’t know I had a jetpack, why would you jump over the edge?”

“Did you miss the part where your kid went flying over first?”

“You’d be willing to die for a stranger?”

You shrugged. “He’s a kid.” The Mandalorian stopped again and turned to stare at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in mild annoyance. Why was this conversation still happening? Maker, at this point you were hoping to be thrown in a carbonite freezer just to avoid his heavy gaze and questions. “Can you finish arresting me please?”

After a beat, the Mandalorian began to walk and you took that as a victory. You’d take what you could get today.

Watching that bastard grab Grogu and run away while he was left trapped in a mob of smugglers was the most rage Din had felt in quite a long time. He had been ruthless in cutting down the men that swarmed him, and he would’ve killed every last one in that moment if he had the time. As soon as he had a window, Din was sprinting after the man who had taken his son. 

Din hadn’t even realized you were still around until he saw you holding the man at the end of your weapon. The blaster bolts that fired around him missed you by an inch, but it hit the man right in the side and all of Din’s rage turned to fear when he watched Grogu get thrown over the edge. Even knowing he’d be able to fly after him⏤ it didn’t stop his stomach from turning to lead. Then fear morphed into absolute confusion when he watched you drop your weapon and literally leap over the railing. You disappeared out of sight and seconds later Grogu came flying over the railing back to safety. Din lunged forward to catch the kid before he hit the ground.

“Gev!” Din set Grogu on the ground, pointing at the boy to make it known he was serious, and then Din dove over the edge.

He didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom, what was going through your head. What kind of quarry would stop mid-escape to risk their life in the way you had? You had been in the clear. The smuggler’s let you pass and instead of disappearing when the opportunity presented itself, you came back and stabbed one of them. Din hated to admit it, but he had also been very aware that you stayed in the fight and he had a visceral reaction to watching you get elbowed in the face hard enough to collapse.

It was how the smugglers got the opportunity to grab Grogu.

Like a kriffing idiot, he had gotten distracted and nearly lost his son because of it.

‘He’s a kid.’ Your voice echoed through his head the entire walk to the tarmac. Initially, Din had been confused why you’d trust him to actually catch you. Did you actually know who he was? Your soulmate? And you assumed he’d have to catch you? But, when you admitted that you had no idea he even had a jetpack, Din felt floored. You hadn’t jumped over the edge trusting he’d catch you. You jumped over the edge thinking it was going to be the last thing you ever did, and you did it to save a stranger. No, a kid. That’s what you said. The look on your face, the tone of your voice, it was natural instinct for you. The obvious choice. 

You hadn’t given sacrificing your life for a child a second thought.

Din hadn’t decided yet if that made you honorable or insane.

A thought drifted through him before he could stop it. It was an action taken right out of a Mandalorian’s playbook. He forced it out of his head. You were not a Mandalorian. You were a quarry wanted for slave trading. A quarry. His soulmate quarry. Dank farrik. Din lowered the ramp of the Razor Crest and led you on. 

“Can I use the fresher before you shove me in carbonite?” Din did a double take at your words⏤ a common occurrence with you he was learning. You seemed to be entirely serious with your request though. You shrugged nonchalantly. “Being frozen with a full bladder is miserable.”

“You’ve been in carbonite before?”

You paused then pointed to your face with a tight lipped smile. “Bounty.”

“I’m not putting you in carbonite.” Din replied. He ignored the confusion drawn on your features and closed the ramp. Din then unlatched the binders and pointed down the very short hall. When Peli had rebuilt the Crest for him he had it modified for just a bit more space, but the fresher was nearly laid out in the same position. “Fresher’s that way. There’s no weapons in there.”

Din wanted to get the ship up in the air right now, but he didn’t trust you not to make a break for it. He got Grogu settled with a ration bar and then he perched himself on the edge of a supply crate facing toward the fresher. While waiting, Din pulled your weapon out from his belt and admired the metal work. A slugthrower. Impressive. He hadn’t seen one in a hot minute, and this one was built by someone who knew what they were doing. The dark metal was carved with swirls and designs of gold. The handle carved in wood and ivory. Though he hadn’t seen one in ages, Din was familiar with firearms. He popped out the ornate cylinder and raised an eyebrow at the single slug loaded in. All other five slots were empty.

The other weapon you carried was a simple metal dagger. Not as rare, but vibroblades were more popular. 

The mystery of who you were seemed to grow with every second he was stuck with you.

Din set the firearm down by his thigh and unintentionally his hand drifted up to rest over his left ribcage where your words stained his skin. ‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’ All those years he thought those words, rolled them around in his head, there was a sharp difference. Now, he heard the words in your voice rather than his own. Even once he rid himself of you, that would linger.

He heard you shifting in the fresher and drew his own blaster to rest on his thigh⏤ pointed toward where you’d be, but with the trigger finger resting on the side of the weapon. He didn’t think he’d need to use it, but if Din had learned one thing about you thus far it was that you were unpredictable.

The fresher doors slid open and you stepped out. When your eyes landed on him, you let out a huff and lifted your hands in surrender. “You did a lot of work to just shoot me now.” Din motioned to the ladder leading up into the cockpit with his blaster. “You… want me to climb?” He pushed off the crate and gave a single nod. “Yeah, alright, sure.” You sighed and walked to the ladder. You paused to glance over your shoulder to Grogu who was still scarfing down his ration bar. “Your dad is kind of a dick. Anybody tell you that before?”

“Buir!” Grogu laughed and followed it with babbling.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You mumbled to yourself and began to climb. Din followed. He wanted answers from you as much as he wanted to get off this world. At the top of the ladder, Din passed you and ushered you into the cockpit. He pointed to the passenger seat and didn’t miss how you rolled your eyes before dropping down. Din took his own seat, but spun the pilot’s chair around to face you first. He pulled the binders from his belt.

“Hands.” He ordered.

“Oh, good.” You smirked and offered him your wrists. “I was starting to miss these things.”

Din clamped them in place then turned back to begin lift off. It wasn’t until hyperspace that he turned back around, and Din was startled to see your eyes had been drooping closed. At his movement, they snapped open once more and your posture stiffened. He took the moment to really soak you in. Specifically, he let his eyes trace the golden band around your neck⏤ the lights of hyperspace reflected off the material same as it did his own beskar. At first glance, he’d label it a gaudy accessory that didn’t match the worn down nature of the rest of your outfit. However, even from here Din could see the faint scars that half hid under the gold. 

It wasn’t a necklace. It was a collar.

“What now, bucket head?”

“Now, you tell me why someone who is clever enough to escape multiple bounty hunters is reckless enough to visit another cantina right after running into me.”

You shrugged. “Maybe you’re not as intimidating as you think you are.”

Din leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, “All the other hunters find you in bars as well. Why’s a slave trader visiting every cantina in the galaxy?”

He really doubted the backstory the bounty puck was giving him now, seeing the metal that adorned your neck, but Din wanted to see your reaction. There was a brief flash of anger across your face, gone as quick as it came, and Din could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from saying whatever words were spinning around in your head right now. Finally, you smirked, “I’m on the search for the galaxy’s best cocktail.” You leaned forward. “You wouldn’t believe what world is in the lead, Mandalorian.”

Din wasn’t sure what was more ironic⏤ that fate lumped him together with a quarry or that fate picked a person who never knew when to shut up. He shook his head, “You asked me earlier what it would take to get me off your back.” Your eyes marginally widened. “Do you still want to know?”

“Name it.” You answered.

“I want answers.” He stressed and watched as your jaw locked in irritation again. “What are you searching the galaxy for?”

For a long moment, you just stared at him. Din could see you analyzing him. It was that simple action, and the way he saw you sizing him up when you first met, that told him you weren’t just some mouthy, arrogant idiot. You were clever. It was probably how you escaped so many bounty hunters in the past. 

You shrugged, “Revenge.”

The answer didn’t necessarily startle him. It was only revenge, love, and greed that could have someone dedicate so much time to their end goal. Piecing together the parts of the puzzle he had gave him a blurry image. Din nodded, “Whoever you’re going after, do they deserve it?”

“Yes.” You replied without even a pause. “They do.”

You didn’t fully understand the line of questioning being thrown your way, but considering the options it wasn’t the worst scenario you found yourself in. The Mandalorian had turned back around without another word after asking you his last question and it now left you sitting in your seat exhausted and confused. More than anything you craved sleep. After your last 24 hours that wasn’t surprising. What did surprise you was how easily you were dozing off while being in this too small cockpit with the Mandalorian bounty hunter. It was like your stupid body didn’t perceive him as a current threat.

Maybe he wasn’t. He said he wasn’t going to throw you in the carbonite freezer, and from what you knew about Mandalorians they were the type who held honor above nearly everything else. You had given your freedom to save his kid and you prayed he didn’t take that action lightly. 

“I have another question.” The Mandalorian spoke without turning.

“Alright, but if you get another one then I’m allowed one now too.” You argued.

You just barely saw the tilt of his helmet in agreement. A part of you hoped he was done questioning you about your goals in life. It wasn’t a topic you wanted to explore any further with this stranger. But, the Mandalorian caught you off guard by veering far away from his previous questions.

“What you said when we met…” He hummed, “What did you mean by that?”

“The soulmate thing?” You snorted. “Yeah, hilarious, isn’t it? You spooked me for a second with how quiet you got after I said it, but now I know silence is just your go-to intimidation tactic, bucket head.” From where you sat you could see him stiffen and assumed it was from your chosen nickname for him. “Does your kind even have soulmates? Do I need to explain⏤”

“My kind?” He finally glanced over at you.

“Yeah. Whatever you are.”

“I’m human.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re not allowed to sound so surprised that I didn’t know. You’re covered from head to toe in metal, and I just assumed you were the same kind as your kid.”

“Grogu was…adopted.” He replied. 

Huh. Grogu. That was the kid’s name. Well, that was one of two that you got. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees after he turned back around to scan a map on the control panel. “So? What do I call you then? What’s your name?”

“Mando. You can call me Mando.”

“Mando as in Mandalorian?” You laughed. “Maker, even ‘bucket head’ is more imaginative than that. You seriously go by that?” Mando didn’t reply and you snickered some more under your breath before leaning back. “I’ll consider it, bucket head.”

You could hear him mumble a string of words that you were going to assume was his native language. You'd also assume he was cursing. That's usually the response you got. The cockpit was filled with the comfortable silence of hyperspace and despite being seated on a metal chair, you began to doze off again. It was getting harder and harder to keep your heavy lids open, and faintly you thought you heard the Mandalorian speak once more before you lost the battle against unconsciousness.

“Sleep, mirdala runi. You’re safe.”

mando'a translations:

gev: stop (stay) /// buir: Parent (father) /// mirdala runi: Clever soul

taglist: @onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblogdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #female reader #reader insert

[baileypie-writes]

I'm sorry for all the asks for family requests but can you please do some of Velvet and Veneer protecting their preteen sister? Maybe from a bully?

A/N ~ Sure! And don’t worry, I don’t mind the requests:) Hope you enjoy!

And remember: if you’re being bullied, please tell someone. I promise you, somebody cares. In fact, I’m one of those somebodys.

~You’re Safe Now~

Velvet and Veneer + Preteen!Sister!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: You’re being bullied, but thankfully, this time your sibling save you.

Warnings: Reader getting bullied(verbal and mentions of it being physical), minor violence, swearing, Reader crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out a sigh of relief when you finally heard the school bell ring. Grabbing your backpack, you rushed out of the classroom. Your eyes darted around the halls as you made your way towards the front doors of the school.

When you were outside, you booked it to the side of the building. After confirming that you were alone, you finally let yourself calm down.

You can’t remember the last time you were able to peacefully make it through a school day. Each time, this group of boys would come and harass you. The’d say every insult under the sun, making fun of you for the smallest things. Things that you couldn’t control, like your looks.

You thought that telling your teacher would make it stop. You were unfortunately very wrong. After they got punished, that’s when the beatings started. You no longer felt safe at school, and you’re worried that they’ll follow you home one day.

Thankfully though, your siblings, Velvet and Veneer, were picking you up today. You haven’t seen them in a while, so they were going to take you out to eat and have fun. You were so excited, that you’d forgotten about your bullies. But all the memories came back once you saw them turn the corner.

Oh shit.

“There you are. We’ve been looking all over for you!” The leader, Jackson, called to you. His four other friends trailed behind him. You swear you’d rather have the devil himself appear in front of you than having to deal with these son of a bitches.

“What do you want?” You asked, trying to hide the fear in your voice. You failed miserably.

“Watch your tone, bitch.” Jackson pushed you, making you fall onto your back. You hit your head on the hard concrete, and you felt tears start to well up in your eyes. But you sucked them back in.

“My siblings will be here any second, so you better leave!” You yelled back at them. You were hoping that that’d scare them off, but that thought was shattered when you heard the boys snicker.

“Please, if they’re anything like you, we can beat both their asses no problem.” He grabbed you by your shirt, lifting your upper body off the ground. “Speaking of which…”

Jackson raised his fist, and you braced yourself for impact. You were already thinking of excuses to tell your parents. Maybe you should tell them you fell again. Or maybe that you got hit with a ball at P.E.

A loud honk snapped you out of your thoughts. You opened your eyes that were previously squeezed shut. All the boys’s attention were focused on a car that had just turned the corner towards the school. It was Velvet and Veneer’s car. If you weren’t being held, you’d probably jump for joy. You never thought you’d be so happy to see them in your life.

The car screeched to a stop, and your siblings hopped out of it. You’d never seen them so mad.

“Whoa. You guys are, like, those famous pop stars right?” One of the boys asked.

They didn’t respond. Their focus was solely on Jackson.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing to our sister?” Velvet asked. More like demanded.

Jackson let go of your shirt, making you fall back onto the concrete, and hit your head again. You let out a yelp of pain. The moment it fell from your lips, Veneer rushed over to you, leaving the yelling to Velvet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking more concerned than you’ve ever seen before.

“Yeah.” You said, barely audible. You looked back over to Velvet. She had her phone out, and a flash came from it.

“I just took your picture. If you ever do anything to (name) again, I’m posting this on all my social media accounts. Your asses will be finished.” She had the boys backed up against the wall. All of them looked ready to piss themselves. The moment she stepped back, they bolted away so fast, you swore you saw a cloud of dust form behind them.

Velvet scoffed, and looked over to you. You could tell she was trying to hide her concern, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. Veneer helped you to your feet.

“What was that? Are they bullies?” He asked. You just nodded. “How long has this been going on?”

You didn’t respond. You were so overwhelmed, that you began to uncontrollably sob. Your siblings were surprised by your sudden burst of emotion, but after a moment, Veneer gave you a gentle hug. Velvet, not knowing how to comfort people, just placed a hand on your back. They both let you cry it out.

~~~~

After the whole event, Velvet and Veneer took you out to eat at your favorite restaurant.

You ate your food slowly, being tired from all the stress and crying. Across the table, Veneer was trying to gather enough courage to bring up the whole bullying thing. Velvet, tired of waiting, spoke up for him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She sounded really upset.

“I tried telling people already. That just made them start hurting me.” You said, avoiding eye contact.

Veneer decided to speak as well, now that the subject was brought up. “But we’re your family. We can help you!”

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I was just so scared at what they would do next!” You raised your voice, making them jump a little.

“How bad was it?” Veneer asked after a moment of silence. You looked so traumatized, he almost didn’t want to know.

“They… beat me up a lot. And they make fun of me. I don’t feel safe at school.” Veneer felt his heart break for you. That’s when the anger caught up to him.

He turned to Velvet. “I want you to post those pictures.” His tone genuinely scared you.

“Oh, I already did.” She said, expression unchanging. Veneer gave her an almost menacing smile, and turned back to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry sis, you’re safe now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #velvet x reader #veneer x reader #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 veneer #trolls veneer #trolls velvet #velvet x reader platonic #veneer x reader platonic

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Better Late Than Never - Nikolai Lantsov

Summary: Nikolai returns to unexpected events regarding his brother and his childhood best friend.

Content Warnings: Vasily. No Beta/Proof Reading.

So I figured I posted 10 Tolya ones, I'm going to post one for my husband, the love of my life, the man of my dreams, by darling bastard prince, Nikolai.

He hadn't changed. Not in the years he had been away. Nikolai still looked exactly the same. The same clever persona that he wore around those he built it for. The same balanced tone he had practiced for years before perfecting. That same damned smile that was far too mischievous to exist in this surrounding, these rooms filled with important people who barely knew how to do anything that mattered.

You had almost hoped that he would've changed, or he would've been different to what you remembered him being, because seeing him like this, the same as you remembered him, was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do. Your Nikolai, late to the party, in more ways than one.

Vasily was so quick to pull you over to greet him, all laughter and welcomes, you didn't get a chance to speak. Nikolai stared at you as his brother spoke, you guessed it was to do with the unnecessarily extravagant attire you were wearing which was very out of character, or why you were within any distance of Vasily by choice.

"Brother, I am guessing no one has told you the good news," Vasily's tone was joyful but in a calculated type of way that made Nikolai very nervous. He couldn't understand what you were doing here, he was glad to see you, but you had only ever been on the grounds because he had asked you to be, you had often said these walls felt too high and you felt trapped into a life you didn't need reminders of. So why were you here?

"We are short on good news these days, so please go ahead," Nikolai said trying to keep his eyes on his brother, stop them wandering back to you.

"Well, I am betrothed," Vasily gleamed, his gaze turned back to you and Nikolai suddenly understood with blinding clarity exactly why his brother was being so chipper. "Or should I say we we are betrothed?"

Nikolai didn't hear much of what Vasily has to say after that, he just gives small nods as his brother talks a while more, eyes continuously darted to you, trying to read the situation, you tried to avoid his gaze. You had missed Nikolai dearly, and in his absence so many things had spun out of control, you had done nothing but wish for his return, but now he had it filled you with a strange uncertainty, a fear you didn't recognize.

Finally Vasily was pulled away by a member of the court and for the first time, you were left alone with Nikolai. "I missed you Kolya," were the first words you could muster.

"He proposed," Nikolai met you with and you frowned. No niceties and cat and mouse with Nikolai, then again you shouldnt have been suprised, it was always like that with him. The Puppy Prince never expected you to play games with him, or so you'd always thought. But all his time away, you'd forgotten what such directness felt like. It would've been a relief, had the topic not been one of such burden.

"I wouldn't say proposed as such," you said lowering your voice, "it was more of a demand than a question."

"And you said yes?" Nikolai asked.

"I said nothing, I thought that be the safer option, safer than explaining how I dare turn down a prince," you explained.

"You'd be surprised how easily that comes to some," Nikolai gave you a grin, the type you remember from the years of back and forth with him, and for a moment you can forget where you are, and why, you can even forget the reason you're talking. But only for a moment.

"He took my silence as a yes, and I'm in no position to correct him," you raised your arms gently in a gesture to the whole room, "so here I am." The displeasure behind your perfectly practiced demeanour was clear to Nikolai now, as it always had been in all the years passed.

"This is not what you want," Nikolai said as if it could be a revelation of any kind and not some natural statement of fact.

"No Nikolai," you teased your voice dripping with the sarcasm that Nikolai himself was so fluent in, "I dream of nothing more than to be married to your boorish, pigheaded, wanton brother who sees me as not an equal or a companion or even a bride but as a simple toy to steal away from you. Please, let me be married faster."

In all their years of friendship, Vasily had envied Nikolai and you, the one thing that Vasily could not easily take and make his own. "Careful, love, that sounds treasonous," Nikolai says, the laughter in his voice but you sense the parts of him missing. The parts filled with concern for you.

"Please, charge me, and then I can be free of him, if only in death," you smiled, so forced, and Nikolai let the facade slip.

"You are truly so unhappy?" Nikolai asked.

"Can you imagine a world in which being with your brother could make me anything less than miserable?" You asked.

"I'm sorry," Nikolai managed, truly at a loss for what to do. "I know you never intended to marry."

This acknowledgement suprised you, not least of all because it wasn't true. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you had never once seemed interested in those who wished to court you, and if I remember there were plenty," Nikolai tried to brush it off but there was something else in his voice when he spoke. Jealousy?

"That had nothing to do with my desire to marry," you stated. "I wished to marry Nikolai. I wish still to marry. I just never was asked by someone whom I would want to be my husband. The men I would wish to marry, seemed to never care to ask."

Vasily beckoned you with a hand, and you sighed deep, knowing your limited time without him was quickly ending. But something you said struck Nikolai and you could see it on his face. You were marrying Vasily, and Nikolai would likely be returning to wherever he came from soon enough, and it would likely be another five years or so before you saw him again, if the war ever ended and the Darkling didn't slaughter you all. But maybe, being engaged to the prince was enough to make you hope for that outcome, a short marriage and impending death. The thought brought a chuckle to your lips even if it never made it out of your mouth.

What could go worse now? What damage was their truly left to do, so before you depart to your fiance across the room, you turn to Nikolai to speak again. "I had dreamt of becoming a Lantsov for a very long time, Kolya," you admitted to him, "but I never once as much as entertained the thought I could be marrying your brother."

Nikolai is left in what you might believe to be the only moment you've found him without words to say as you made your way to return to your husband-to-be's side.

Nikolai watched you go, beyond lost. In all these years, he had assumed all your back and forth, all the flirtation, it was a pastime for you. That you wore charm like he did, as an armour. He had always believed your fluttered eyelashes and your gentle dalliance and teasing were not based in anything real. He had dared not to think of it, because as much as a prince may get used to hearing 'yes.' He was only the second prince, and a bastard at that if the rumours were to be believed. Anything he could want his brother could easily take from him, and would. So he had never let himself wonder. If your feelings had been genuine he wanted them to be for him and not his title or his lineage or his prospects. And they had. They always had and he had not seen it.

And now Vasily had done what Nikolai had feared regardless, seeing through the forest and the trees to what was so obvious that he had not considered it.

You.

You who now stood, unable to alter your position and overwhelmingly desperate to be anywhere but where you are, besides his brother.

There is nothing in that moment Nikolai would not do to fix it.

He must fix it.

Update: Part 2

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #vasily lantsov #grishaverse #nikolai x you #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #sturmhond #sturmhond x you #sturmhond x reader

[holllandtrash]

better than words | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 4 to better left unsaid (the better series)

slowly but surely, pierre washes away your doubts and makes you question why you were ever hung up on Lando in the first place...you're finally ready to let someone new in, right?

word count: 5.3k tags: 18+, minors do not read, smut, its cute and soft but its also smut

Pierre called you out on being distant the second you stepped into the motorhome on friday afternoon. 

His pre race interview from last week was still stuck in your mind. That and everything Lando said had been eating at you. You weren’t sure where you stood with Pierre and the distance during the week didn’t help. 

Pierre sat on the edge of the couch and reached for your hand, pulling you to stand between his legs. He tilted his chin up as his other hand rested on your waist, tugging you closer to ensure you wouldn’t just walk away from this conversation. Communication wasn’t something he shied away from.

“Chérie,” his tone was warm. He wanted to pry inside your mind, but just so you two could be on the same page. “What’s going on? Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“That interview, Pierre,” you didn’t want to be so soothed by his touch, but you had been deprived of any physical contact and you missed him. 

Pierre shook his head slowly, it wasn’t clicking for him, “What interview?”

“Last weekend,” you clarified. “The pre-race one? Come on, you said that you weren’t about to allow Lando to get ahead? You were encouraging him to fight but weren’t about to let your guard down? I mean, you weren’t just talking about the cars. Max said that it seemed like you were hinting about me. Like I was what you were fighting over.”

Pierre’s lips pressed together tightly as he stifled his laughter. You didn’t like that he wasn’t taking this seriously and you started to step away, only he didn’t let you. He tugged you closer, squeezing your hand lovingly. 

“Hey, come on,” Pierre chuckled. He shook his head again, “I don’t know what you inferred from that interview, but I can assure you it was only about the standings. Whatever Max said, whatever he put in your head, it was misconstrued to fit Lando’s narrative. I know you’re not some trophy, Y/N, you can’t be won.”

Fuck. 

You felt like an idiot. 

You were so quick to believe what Max and Lando had said, that Pierre’s comments meant something more, but they really shouldn’t be taken for anything other than face value. Lando would hear what he wanted to hear and that shouldn’t have been your problem.

Pierre’s eyes darted around your features, still trying to get a read on you, “That’s not all, is it?”

You shook your head.

“Trust and communication,” Pierre said. He had yet to pull his gaze off of you. To him, you, this, was the most important thing in the room. “The two pillars of any strong relationship. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Pierre wasn’t typically demanding, but he knew what he wanted and what he wanted from you was an open and honest conversation. 

“I talked to Lando,” you admitted. Pierre didn’t flinch. He didn’t give you any indication that he thought you made a mistake, he waited for you to finish. “More specifically, he apologised.”

“You made up?” He asked.

That was a difficult question to answer, “We’re on better terms. I can’t just insert myself back into his life, but he’s not-”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Pierre finished your exact thought. When a sharp inhale passed through his teeth, you felt his grip on your waist loosen the slightest bit. Pierre licked his lips, taking a second to process what that meant for you two moving forward.

Pierre knew you had loved him. 

Did you still love him? 

You didn’t let yourself think about it. You wanted to push those feelings to the back of your mind, you didn’t want to love Lando. You wanted the man in front of you now.

If Pierre was thinking about asking what your feelings were for the McLaren driver now, he decided against it. Either he didn’t want to know the answer, or he was holding onto that small piece of hope that Lando wasn’t going to be an issue. You were here with him after all, that had to mean something. 

He needed assurance.

“I want you,” you said, sliding your hands around his shoulders. You tangled your fingers through the strands of hair at the nape of his neck and Pierre let out a quiet hum of contentment. He liked when you played with his hair. 

He tilted his head up even more, his smile shifting into a smirk, “You want me?”

It was hard to believe that he still hadn’t kissed you. After your time in Monaco, after you flew to Milan specifically for him, after you had literally spelled it out for him that he was the man you wanted, all Pierre did was look up at you with that damn smirk. 

What the hell was he waiting for? 

Maybe he would have kissed you then, you would never know because there was a knock on the door. Whoever was on the other side at least had the decency to not barge in, but they did politely remind Pierre that he had one last media obligation before calling it a night. 

“Come on,” Pierre interlocked his fingers through yours and nodded his head towards the door, “After this I promise to be Milan’s best tour guide.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Pierre held the door to the bakery open for you, taking your hand for balance so you didn’t trip on the step down. Esteban and his girlfriend followed behind, but kept their distance as they shared the cinnamon bun they had bought. The four of you had decided to explore Milan together, but you were about to head your separate ways and call it a night.

“I love this city,” you hummed, sliding your left arm around Pierre’s waist. In your right hand you held the remains of a cookie, a cookie that Pierre swore would change your life. Even with it being so late at night, the bakery still had fresh items and you had to admit, you weren’t disappointed with the selection. You finished chewing the bite in your mouth and tilted your head up at him, “What’d you call this?” 

“Mandorlini del ponte,” Pierre draped his arm over your shoulder, but not before wiping away some powder that had stuck to the corner of your mouth. 

“For a French boy, your Italian is impeccable.”

“French boy?” Pierre asked, mock offensiveness in his tone as he tugged you against his side. “Ma chérie, I assure you I am 100% man.”

You took another bite of the biscuit, leaning your head against his side as you walked slowly down the street of the city he called home. 

You had been to Milan before, but you had never got to experience it through the eyes of someone who lived here. Usually your weekends kept you glued to the paddock and in the evenings you’d go to whatever restaurant Lando suggested. You never argued, figuring he knew the place best.

But Pierre knew all of Milan’s hidden gems. Like the bakery you had just left because it was family owned and they loved to experiment with new recipes while never wandering too far from Italy’s charming roots.

He had pulled you down an alleyway earlier and told you to wait as he looked up, confused, you did the same and a few seconds later, a row of twinkling lights flipped on. They sparkled amongst the masonry, but only for a short while before turning off again. 

“There’s a malfunction in the lights,” Pierre explained, “but they remind of the stars, the way they twinkle and disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye.”

Pierre wanted to show you why he loved Milan. He wanted to share this city with you and you could easily see why he had fallen in love with this place. The people, the culture, the history, all of it was breathtaking and Pierre wouldn’t let you guys move on until you could truly appreciate the beauty in a location the way he did.

You wished that he didn’t have to race this weekend, that you could allow yourself to be swept away by his hospitality and finish the night by locking yourselves away from the city you had grown to love in such a short period of time. You didn’t want to have to set an alarm for the next morning and wait as the nerves slowly started in your stomach and worked their way up as you spent the day in the Alpine garage. 

Pierre reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys as you approached a crosswalk. Esteban and Elena said their goodbyes, Elena was sweet to give you a hug and tell you that she was excited to hang out with you tomorrow. Usually your only company in the paddock was Max, so another female would be a welcoming change. 

You noticed that Pierre didn’t let go of you, even as you hugged Elena. He kept his hand on your back as you waved to the couple, watching them walk off. Pierre then took that opportunity to stand behind you and slid his arms around your waist. 

You tilted your chin up, momentarily mesmerised by all of the immaculate details on Pierre’s face. Even with the only light coming from nearby street lamps, he seemed to glow before your eyes.

You let yourself relax in his hold and this was another one of those moments when you wished he would have kissed you. Instead, you found yourself watching his lips move as he spoke quietly, knowing he wasn’t about to close the gap.

“Ready to call it a night?” He asked. 

Not really.

“I mean…I’m not all that tired.”

Pierre chuckled and pressed his lips to the side of your head, his nose brushing against your hair, “I didn’t say anything about sleeping.”

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yourusername milan day 1

comments are limited

pierre gasly that isn't my good side

yourusername i think it is

itselenaberri so fun to finally meet you<3

womeninmotorsport if this is the paddock's newest couple im obsessed

It was a bold move, posting not just one but two photos of Pierre. You asked for permission, of course, when you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car. You didn’t want to overstep, especially seeing as you had no idea where you two stood.

But Pierre just reached across the centre console to place his hand on your thigh. His pinky and ring finger trailing close to the inside seam of your jeans.

“I’d love nothing more than for you to show me off,” Pierre told you. As he drove under the street lights, each individual lamppost highlighted the smile on his face. 

Pierre had posted you on story dozens of times, only for it all to disappear after 24 hours, but there was only that one picture of you wearing his sweatshirt on his feed. That photo could have been seen as friendly, nothing about it indicated you two were spending quality time together.

But your pictures meant 1000 words. Not only did you manage to capture a (dare you say cute) shot of him mid-interview as he spoke about the upcoming race, but Elena had also snuck a photo of the two of you as you were walking. Again, it could have just been seen as friendly, but if people dissected it a bit, they’d see that you and Pierre were more than just friends at this point.

You weren’t spending your Friday night hanging out with Lando and Max like you usually would before a race weekend, you were with Pierre. You’d spent all day with him since you landed in Milan. And now you were pulling up into his driveway to spend the rest of the night with him.

As you stepped out of the car, you thought about the sleeping arrangements for this weekend. You had your own room when you were in Monaco, Pierre made sure of it. And you were certain his house had a spare room or two for you to claim if you wanted, but you didn’t know what he wanted.

Before Pierre could unlock the front door, you stopped him and grabbed his hand. God, were you really about to ask this? 

“Why haven’t you kissed me?”

Pierre raised his eyebrows at your question that you were now wishing you didn’t ask. When the corner of his mouth turned upwards, a faint blush creeped onto your cheeks and your heart started racing. 

“Why haven’t I kissed you?” Pierre repeated, slower, just to make sure he had heard you correctly. 

“Yeah I mean-” you sighed, pulling your eyes off of him to look at the ground beneath your feet. “You could have in Monaco, but you didn’t. You could have when we were in the drivers room earlier and you didn’t and then all night you- you had the opportunity to but you just never did and I don’t know if I’m misreading the signals but you know that I want you and you just haven’t-”

“Chérie.”

Thank god he cut you off because you had no idea where you were going with that ramble. 

Pierre stepped forward, taking your chin in his hand to tilt your face upwards. You were nervous and uncertain, but you finally met his eyes, recognizing that charming yet devious glint you had grown so accustomed to recently. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” Pierre asked when he was certain you weren’t about to start on another tangent.

“Well I’d prefer that to a lie, yes.”

Pierre laughed softly and licked his lips. He gently traced his thumb over your jaw and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way he was looking at you, like he was finally going to kiss you.

“I had to make sure you weren’t still thinking about Lando,” Pierre explained. That sinking feeling in your chest came back as the face of your oldest friend appeared in your mind. You pushed it aside, wanting to focus on Pierre, on this moment. “I wasn’t about to start anything with you if I thought for a second you were still hung up on him.”

You couldn’t blame him for that. Pierre was smart, he wasn’t about to dive into any relationship headfirst without taking a second to read the warning signs. He wasn’t someone who was ever in relationships himself so the fact that he was taking his time before starting one with you said a lot. He wanted to get it right.

“I just want you,” you said. Pierre’s smile grew.

“I know that now.”

Pierre opened the door and you pulled your eyes off of him to look down the dimly lit foyer. Your jaw fell open, a faint gasp passed through your lips when you took in the sight of red and white rose petals scattered over the hardwood floor. Different sized candles were placed on every shelf and flat surface, lining the hallways. 

He placed his hand on your back, gently ushering you in after you were frozen in awe of what he had organised. You took a few steps into his home, spotting a bouquet of roses on the coffee table, along with a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. 

He reached for your jacket to slide it off your arms before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. He collected your hair and let it drape down your back as you were still speechless, wondering what the hell you did to deserve something as beautiful as this. 

The answer was nothing. Pierre was an angel. He just wanted to make you happy. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be treated. 

“Pierre-” you could barely get a word out. You wanted to cry at how much thought and effort went into this. “When did you-”

“My assistant came by when we were exploring the city,” he answered, his breath hot against your skin. He pressed a second kiss to your neck, so gentle you could have imagined it. “Chérie, I have wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you, but I knew we couldn’t rush into anything. Trust me…” he kissed the spot below your earlobe and you pressed your back into his chest. “...if I had it my way, we would have done this a long time ago.”

Pierre suddenly turned you around so you were face to face instead. You placed your hands on his chest, staring longingly into his eyes before glancing down at his lips. Your hands slid upwards, one hand cupping his neck, the other threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, something you knew he loved. 

You were leaning into him without even realising it. Pierre dipped his head, his nose brushing against yours as you held his face close. His breath was warm, he smelled like chocolate, his eyes were dark and all of this was making you dizzy in the best way. 

His lips barely grazed yours, and he pulled back an inch when they did. Your thumb ran over his stubble, coaxing him to just kiss you already. 

Pierre leaned in again. “Say it again,” he whispered so softly. You knew what he was asking for.

“I want you, Pierre.” 

There was no hesitation. No doubt. No lingering fears in the back of your mind. No voice screaming at you that you were making a mistake and for once, there was no Lando. 

Your heart was going a million miles an hour, you could feel the heat in your face and the nerves running through your body, but you didn’t pull away and you didn’t let him either. 

Pierre smirked, “Good.”

And then he kissed you. It was soft at first but it took every last ounce of air out of your lungs. Your mouth was instantly open as his tongue fought against yours. His hands were everywhere at once. Your hair, your face, your waist, pulling you into him as much as possible. You were so focused on trying to take in this moment that you didn’t even realise he was moving you until your back hit the wall.

You licked his bottom lip before diving back in, your arms loosely draped over his shoulders, tangling your fingers through your hair. The second you heard a quiet groan emerge from the back of his throat you knew you were hooked. There was no going back. 

You were up on your toes, trying to keep your mouth on his when you felt the hem of your shirt being pushed up. His fingers on your skin ignited a fire within you and as he trailed his hands up you finally pulled your lips away from his, your head hitting the wall.

“I think you should have done this a long time ago,” You swallowed heavily and looked up at him, your own breaths just as laboured as his. Pierre chuckled at your words as you cupped his jaw again, pulling him back down to your mouth.

You locked your arm around his neck to keep him from pulling away. You loved the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your lips against his, his teeth practically clashing against yours. The kiss heated up again, and you felt him licking at your bottom lip, his teeth just grazing it and causing your legs to shake. 

“Y/N I don’t-” Pierre spoke against your lips, pausing midway through his sentence to kiss you again. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t need to take this further if you don’t want to.”

That shocked you, to say the least. This was not the Pierre you knew. The Pierre who would bring any girl from the club back to the hotel for a quick fuck without giving it a second thought. 

And while you appreciated the concern, the last thing you wanted was for this to end.

“And what if I want to take this further?” You asked, your heart nearly falling out of your chest. He could probably hear how fast it was beating. 

Pierre didn’t need to say anything. He just raised his eyebrows as if to ask if you were positive about this and the second you nodded, his lips were on yours once more. 

Your fingers found the collar of his shirt and you fumbled with the buttons to pry them open, wanting to feel his chest. You got about halfway before giving up and just ripping the material, buttons landing on top of the rose petals. 

He then reached for the hem of your shirt and you let him pull it up and over your head, leaving you in your bra. When you pressed your hand against Pierre’s bare chest, the heat from his body was enough to melt you into a puddle. 

Pierre’s grip on your waist tightened and suddenly the floor had disappeared from beneath you. You locked your legs around his body as he carried you down the hall, reattaching his lips to yours as he navigated through the house. 

His room was dark but it wasn’t like you were in the mood for a tour anyway. He placed you down on the edge of the bed and then got down on his knees in front of you. You couldn’t think straight, but you kept your eyes locked on his. 

The sight of him between your legs set a fire ablaze in your stomach. Pierre took off your shoes and then went for your jeans. You lifted your hips so that he could tug your pants down your legs, quite literally throwing them across the room.

You shouldn’t have been surprised he was taking his goddamn time. It took nearly a month for this man to kiss you. 

You tried to adjust yourself on the bed but when you knew you were soaking and it was all because of the man who was staring up at you like he was ready to devour you, it was hard to make yourself comfortable.

“You’re not patient, are you?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer to that one.

“Not particularly.”

Lucky for you, Pierre was tired of waiting as well. He pulled your panties down your legs, his eyes dropping to your chest for a moment. 

“Do me a favour, Chérie, and take that off,” he nodded towards your bra and you did not have to be told twice. You hurried to unhook the clasp and discard the last bit of material that you wore. 

Pierre took a moment to admire your breasts, but that wasn’t where his priorities lied, he’d have to come back to them later. 

He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed with a harsh yank, keeping your legs spread open for him. There was already a wet spot forming on the bed underneath you and Pierre loved knowing that he didn’t even have to touch you yet to have your body react this sort way. 

He was careful as he grabbed your ankle to drape your leg over his shoulder. He left the softest line of kisses along the inside of your thigh and your entire body tensed the closer he got to your centre. 

When he hovered just over your core, you could have died right there. His hot breath hitting your folds was enough to send you over the edge. You weren’t going to last long with Pierre, you just knew it. 

Your breath caught in your throat when Pierre dived in, pressing his mouth against you. All you could do was fall back, your back arching as you relied on your arm to keep you upright, your other hand tangling through his hair to keep his lips right where they were.  

You threw your head back, loving the way his tongue felt as it slid inside of you. Pierre wasted no time in finding a rhythm, his nose pressed against your clit. His stubble ticked your inner thighs and when his name left your lips you could have sworn he picked up his pace, thrusting his tongue into you faster. 

Pierre took his time eating you out, wanting to enjoy every second of this and you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said earlier.

‘If I had it my way, we would have done this a long time ago.’ 

If you had known Pierre was this good with his tongue, you would have gotten over Lando a lot sooner. 

He slid his tongue out, dragging it upwards to give your clit the attention it desired. The hand that wasn’t in his hair fisted at the sheets and you gasped when you felt two of his fingers tease your entrance, rubbing up and down your slit. 

“Pierre,” you were breathless, desperate, you needed him to touch you. You were dying to feel his fingers inside of you. 

Pierre kept his fingers pressed against you but didn’t move them, “Tell me what you want, Chérie.”

“You.”

That wasn’t the answer that he was looking for and Pierre pulled his hand back, pressing a kiss to the inside of your leg instead. You groaned and tried to yank his head forward, but your hand was nothing compared to the neck strength of a Formula 1 driver.

“I need more than that.”

“I want you,” you said again, your words followed by a whimper. “Please, Pierre-” you swallowed, God you didn’t think you were one to beg. What was this man doing to you? “Your fingers, Pierre. I need you to touch me.”

Your eyes were squeezed shut but you just knew he was smirking. 

“Was that so hard?”

Pierre slid two fingers inside of you without so much as a warning. The moan that left your lips filled the room as he felt how soaked you were. His fingers curled deep inside you and you let yourself get lost in the feeling of them. 

Pierre tried not to let his pride turn to arrogance at the sight of you quivering at his touch. His fingers hit a certain spot inside of you that made another animalistic moan leave your mouth as your back arched off your bed and your grip on his hair tightened, wanting to pull him impossibly closer. 

Pierre attached his lips to your clit again, but most of his attention went to making sure he hit that spot inside of you again, and again, and again. 

Your hips bucked against his face and with his free hand, Pierre slid it upwards until he reached your breasts, taking one in his hand and starting to fondle it. He pinched your nipple and your entire body shook. 

Everything was too much for you, but you also didn’t want this to end. His fingers moving at a rapid pace. His tongue playing with your clit. His hand on your breast. Pierre knew exactly what he was doing.

His teeth grazed over your clit the same second he thrusted his fingers into you rougher than he had before and you knew you were done for. Pierre must have felt your body tense beneath him because it only encouraged him to keep moving his fingers at that strength and speed.

“Want you to cum, Chérie,” Pierre said, his own voice sounding hoarse as he pulled away from your centre. As much as he wanted to keep tasting you, he wanted to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally made you come undone.

It was only a few seconds later when you felt every muscle in your body tighten as your orgasm washed over you. You shook, practically screaming Pierre’s name as he fingered you through it all, a smug expression on his face the entire time. He didn’t slow his fingers down until your body went limp on top of the blanket and then slowly he pulled them out. 

Pierre admired how you looked, panting and glistening with sweat. And he hadn’t even fucked you. He still had his trousers on but when your eyes flickered open, it was impossible to miss the erection beneath the material.

“You look gorgeous,” Pierre said, his eyes raking over your naked body. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked your juices off of him. That sight alone had you ready for another round.

“Taste even better,” he smirked and you gave a short laugh in response. Your cheeks were most definitely a bright shade of pink and you were too drained to even speak. 

Pierre stood and slid his pants off and you opened your mouth, about to ask if he had a condom but he surprised you by taking your hands in his and pulling you up so you were sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He stood between your legs, his fingers twisting through your hair as he craned your neck up to meet his eyes. You could feel how hard he was  against your leg through the material of his briefs and it took everything in you to not reach for him.

“That’s it for tonight,” Pierre suddenly said.

“What?” you protested, eyebrows pinched together. You weren’t ready to call it a night. “Wait, no I thought-”

“No strenuous activity before race weekend,” he told you, as if he was reciting doctors orders. His thumb rested on your bottom lip, tugging it down, but refraining himself from sliding it past your teeth. “And I just know if we did anything more, I wouldn’t be able to stop until the sun came up.”

Fireworks exploded in your stomach. Something told you Pierre wasn’t exaggerating. He seemed like the kind of guy who could go for round after round after round.

You had to admire his will power though. You wouldn’t have been able to stop if the roles were reversed. 

“That’s not fair,” you pouted, hoping that by widening your eyes and batting your eyelashes he would change his mind. Pierre only chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath.

“Oh it’s plenty fair,” he retorted. “Besides, you don’t know how much pleasure I get just from watching you finish.”

Of course he’d rather make you cum than worry about himself. Pierre was perfect. 

“Come on,” he nodded his head towards the headboard. “Let’s get some sleep, Y/N. We both need it.”

You wanted to argue some more, but Pierre was set in his ways. He took hold of your chin and kissed you again, it was passionate and forceful but it was also his way of saying that your fun was over for the time being. 

He backed up and stepped into his closet, only to return with one of his t-shirts for you. You slid it on and pulled back the covers on his bed, only now noticing how soft his mattress was. You already knew that getting out of bed in the morning was going to be a challenge. 

Pierre excused himself, telling you that he had to go blow the candles out before his house burnt down, but it only took him a few minutes to tidy everything up. He came back into his room and had to take a moment to pause in the doorway when he saw how comfortable and content you looked in his bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin.

A smile spread across your cheeks, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come to bed?”

“In a second,” Pierre answered, leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest, his own smile appearing on his lips. “I just want to look at you a bit longer.”

There were those fireworks again. You couldn’t find the words to respond. Pierre, for what seemed like the tenth time today, had left you speechless. 

Your feelings for him were strong. They were new and terrifying and explosive, but they also gave you a sense of comfort and warmth. Something you had never felt before, something you had been dying to feel since you knew what it meant to give your heart to someone.

For years, you told yourself that eventually, you’d find what you were looking for with Lando, but maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

part 5 here all parts here

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[lovelytsunoda]

would it be a sin? // lando norris

summary: lando tries (and fails in the sweetest funniest of ways) to make his and y/n’s first night in their new house together a memorable experience

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: sweet and dorky and giggly smut, but still smut

author's note: this is a love letter to all my girlies who are not kinky in the slightest. just because you don't like it too rough, or don't have any interest in anything kinky doesn't mean that you can't have a fulfilling sex life. this ones for you <3

never in her life did y/n y/l/n dream that she would be so lucky.

leaves were falling down outside, orange and yellow and red dotting the interlock driveway and crunching under the wheels of lando's mclaren as he pulled up the front drive. the movers had been there earlier in the day, a few suitcases stowed away in the back of the luxury supercar.

she stepped out of the car, looking up at the house in wonder as she pulled the massive stuffed ikea bear out of the trunk.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

lando grinned, dangling the house keys in front of him. “better believe it, baby! you are out of your moms house and living with the love of your life, aka me.”

y/n giggled, pecking lando on the lips, the stuffed bear wedged between their bodies.

“I still can’t believe that you brought that bear. it gives me nightmares, baby.”

“uh, lan, it’s not a ‘bear’, it’s a djungelskog.” she giggled, shaking the bear in landos face. “come on, I’ve had this thing since I was a baby, I brought him with me to college. sometimes I snuggle him in my sleep while you’re gone.”

“that’s cute, darling, but I’m here now.” lando said gently, taking the djungelskog bear from y/n and darting up the driveway, where he opened the front door and put the bear in the living room before running down the driveway and sweeping y/n into his arms with a smile and a laugh.

"lando norris, put me down!" y/n laughed as lando carried her over the threshold and into the living room, which was empty save for the stacks upon stacks of boxes.

"you think that im not going to carry my girlfriend over the threshold of our new house?"

"well, yeah, but you're also likely to drop me!"

lando laughed before gently setting y/n down on the soles of her tennis shoes, his arms still around her as he pressed his lips to hers. "we did it, love. this place is ours now."

lando wouldn't say it out loud, but the cozy bunglow ranch house was where he could see the rest of his life unfolding: carrying y/n through the doorway in her voluminous white wedding dress, the smell of fresh bread as she baked in the kitchen, the smell travelling down the hall to his simulator room. two little kids running around the halls, one boy and one girl, a mini carbon copy of both of them. maybe a dog or two? or a cat? teaching his kids how to use the mclaren simulator, their little hands overtop of his as he helped them reach the steering wheel. birthday parties with helium balloons and confetti, little carboard party hats on everybody's heads.

from the first real estate showing, lando norris had seen the rest of his life unfold in that house.

"come on, let me show you the master bedroom."

"lando, i saw the pictures, remember?"

because of their complicated schedules, and the demand for that particular home, lando had been the only one able to go with the estate agent on the one day that was available, so y/n hadn't seen the interior in person yet.

"yes, but it's even better in person!"

giggling at lando's excitement, y/n took his hand and followed him down the long hallway to the master bedroom. the couple were so caught up in the moment that they hadn't even taken off their shoes, tracking dirt throughout the length of the hallway.

"lando, this is incredible! our bed isn't even going to take up half of this place!"

the mclaren driver shrugged, kicking the mattress towards the middle of the cavernous, sunny room. "then we just get a bigger one? it's not that big a deal, love."

"it is when i still have student loans to pay off. i feel bad, i didn't help you pay for any of this." y/n insisted.

"let me spoil you." lando countered, walking over to the cardboard box that held y/n's treasured vitrola record player, plugging it into the wall before he started looking for the records. "hey, do you know where the box with the vinyl is?"

"how should i know, lando? the movers did it all, didn't they?" y/n shook her head with a small grin as she went over to a tupperware container marked 'linens'. "we may not have a bedframe or a soundtrack, but at least now we have sheets and a duvet because god, i'm way too tired today to even think about putting the ikea furniture together."

with the new house had come a complete overhaul of the furniture lando owned. well, everything that max fewtrell was letting him take. being a university student and still living with her mother, y/n didn't have a lot, but she did bring a few other important things, like hand knitted blankets from her grandmother and numerous corningware dishes and china plates from her mother's collection.

"found them!" lando cried in achievement, throwing on an old elvis record that he bought last time he was in austin for a grand prix simply because he wanted the experience of dancing to the vinyl recording of can't help falling in love with you with y/n in the middle of the living room in his apartment at one in the morning because he thought it would be romantic.

"so, i take it you're not helping me?" y/ raised an eybrow as she started putting pillows in cases. "last i checked, this was a two person job, and if you want to get laid tonight, you'd better help, because i refuse to fuck you on the floor."

lando's head shot up, and he lunged for the corner of the flannel sheets.

"oh, so that gets you on your feet?" y/n giggled as the couple put the fitted sheet on the full sized mattress.

as soon as y/n deemed lando's work acceptable by lying in the middle of the bed, lando crawled on top of her, caging her body against the mattress and kissing her deeply, smiles on both of their faces.

"i know i complained a lot, but i'm really glad that you talked me into moving in with you." y/n said through a smile, running her fingers through lando's hair.

"i'm glad that max isn't going to be a cockblock any more." lando laughed out, causing y/n to giggle underneath him.

"or my mom."

"jesus christ, anything but that. your mom still glares at me any time we go up to your room, you know that?"

"she means well, lando." y/n giggles, kissing him again. "she doesn't want grandkids yet. not because she thinks we're too young, but mostly because she thinks she's not old enough to be called grandma."

"your mother is evil." lando chuckled before he kisses her again, his soft lips cushioning her bottom lip as the kiss deepens, her body getting pushed further into the mattress, chilled hands sliding up her sweater.

"god, lando!" she hisses from the impact, trying to push his hands away. "you're freezing!"

the brit shrugged "to be quite fair, it is only like, fifteen degrees outside. is now a good time for me to figure out how the fireplace works? it could be romantic." he wiggled his eyebrows at the end, eliciting raucous laughter from his lover, who was still underneath him.

"go on then, let me move the mattress closer so we can actually feel the heat."

lando messed around with the ornate stone fireplace, turning dials and dropping firewood before realizing that he didn't have a lighter anywhere, and therefore would struggle with actually igniting the kindling.

the fireplace had been one of the factors that drove y/n's final decision on the ranch house, the grey stone creating a cottage-like feel, giving a cozy atmosphere and tying the whole room together. she was not a fan of the cinnamon-colored paint on the wall, but lando promised that the would get the twitch quartet to help him repaint it in whatever color she wanted.

y/n laughed to herself as she brought the mattress closer, dropping down two pillows, a knit blanket and the duvet.

"do you need some help, lando?"

lando shook his head, looking through a shoebox of things that were emptied out of his kitchen drawer. "just get comfortable. i need to open a box and find some newspaper to light on fire."

"that is the worst idea i think i've ever heard you speak out loud."

"it's kindling!"

"it's a safety hazard."

shaking her head, y/ slipped out of her woolen sweater, adidas and jeans before she slipped under the covers, sliding off her white lace bra and throwing it in lando's direction to try and get his attention.

she missed, the bra sliding harmlessly across the floor as lando ignited the fireplace, the cozy scent of burning firewood filling the air. but the driver kept messing with the fire, using the cast iron poker to push around the logs, hoping that the fire would grow

rolling her eyes impatiently, y/n slipped off her lacy panties underneath the covers before balling them into her hand and throwing them.

this time, she hit the mark, the balled-up sunflower-colored fabric hitting lando in the back of the head. he finally turned around, picking up the undergarment in his hands and staring in confusion before turning to look at the mattress.

"oh, love. you'll be the death of me at this rate."

y/n had a big smile on her face as she propped herself up on an elbow, holding the duvet cover over her cleavage as she teasingly smiled at lando.

with a beaming grin, lando pulled his sweater over his head and kicked off his running shoes, making his way over to the bed.

"babe, look out-"

she had barely finished issuing the warning before lando tripping over y/n's tennis shoes and trying to grab onto one of the stacked boxes to try and regain his balance, a massive cardboard box containing all of lando's mclaren gear falling over and spilling papaya colored shirts and baseball caps onto the hardwood floor.

"lan, sweetie, are you okay?" y/n said through laughter

"i'm fine." lando choked out, still giggling himself as he slipped out of his jeans and joined y/n under the covers next to the fire.

the fire warmed their exposed skin as lando and y/n embraced, his hungry lips quickly taking control, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip as he grinded into her aching core, swallowing her sweet, soft moan in his fiery kiss.

the driver continued to trail soothing, gentle kisses across y/n's jaw, his fingers moving to lace with hers as he held her hand next to her head, nipping at the sweet spot on her neck as she bucked her hips into his.

"patience, pretty girl." lando hummed, moving his feather light kisses down her neck before gently taking one of y/n's hard nipples into his mouth.

y/n dropped his hand, burying her finger's in lando's curls as she urged him forward, begging the brit to give her more as gentle whines spilled from her lips.

he trailed his kisses further and further down her body, each kiss punctuated by a different declaration of love: "i love you", "you're the most beautiful girl i've ever met", "i cant imagine another day without you by my side."

little praises that brought a content smile to her face as lando began to kiss and caress her inner thighs, inching closer and clsoer to where she needed him the most.

y/n wasn’t a kinky person by any means. she’d much rather be made love to by candlelight than fucked from behind and spanked. but the one thing lando knew got her off more than anything was being on the receiving end of body worship. after spending so many years insecure and worried that nobody would ever find her pretty or sexy or attractive, listening to lando tell her how stunning she was in such a genuine tone, or showing her how gorgeous she was with his mouth and his hands was the perfect way to get her closer to an orgasm.

her biggest concern in the beginning was that lando would tire of vanilla sex and break up with her to go find somebody new, somebody more willing to take risks in the bedroom. someone who liked it a little rougher.

acutely aware of this fact, lando went out of his way to find ways to spice it up without getting kinky. truth be told, he had never read more cosmopolitan articles in his life, but he was thankful to the ever growing wisdom of the sex life magazine for being the brains behind some of his favourite sexual memories with y/n. the time they played strip monopoly (lando lost, but he wasn't complaining) was his favourite, but he would deny the game even existed if one of his buddies asked him about it. no, that was a memory for him an y/n only.

together they'd experimented with different music to set the mood, different lingerie and lingerie fabrics to find out which ones felt the best, different massage oils (no need to elaborate here), the one time that he wore his race suit and fireproofs (and my god, did they both think that was an incredible night).

"oh my god, lando, stop being such a tease." y/n breathed. "i need you so badly right now."

"tell me what you want, my gorgeous gorgeous girl." lando hummed, breathing on her most sensitive area

y/n's breath hitched, one hand still on the back of lando's head, the other clutching the sheets that were wrapped around her upper body. "i want your tongue. i want you to eat me out."

lando wasted no time, slipping his tongue in between her sopping wet folds, swirling and licking in the way that only he knew how. y/n clenched her thighs together, squeezing around lando's head, but cautious of the pressure she was putting on the driver.

"wrap those gorgeous thighs around me, love. if i die, i die and i get an awesome story to tell in heaven."

y/n laughed, a beautiful and delicate sound that sent even more blood rushing to lando's cock, if that was even possible.

sex with lando never failed to make y/n giggle. not because it was humorous or laughable, but because lando made her feel so comfortable in her own skin, made her feel like she could laugh at any given moment because he knew just the right thing to do. lando knew that sex and laughter were not mutually exclusive and made it his mission to make her laugh at least once every time they fucked.

with each movement of his tongue, y/n clenched her thighs tighter around lando's head, moans getting louder as she began to rut her hips up and into his face.

"oh lando, i-i think i'm gonna...oh god."

she almost whimpered as lando pulled away, still covered completely by the duvet. she found herself giggling at the young man as he floundered underneath the blankets to try and get back out again, his hair ruffled and messy.

still laughing, she pulled him close, pressing her lips to his, sliding her free hand down the front of his boxers to rub his erection.

"see what you do to me, love?" lando whispered quietly, moaning breathily down her ear as she slides her hand up and down his cock.

"take me, lando." she practically moans, kissing and nibbling up the driver's neck and pressing herself closer, desperate for more skin-on-skin contact. "please." her voice took on more of a whine this time, and lando couldn't resist.

he gently pushed her back against the mattress, awkwardly shuffling out of his underwear before ensuring that they were both wrapped up in the sheets and duvet, still feeling the warmth from the fireplace before he gently and smoothly pushed into her, lacing his fingers with hers on both hands, pinning them above her head before he began to thrust in and out. he kept the pace even, somewhere between slow and quick, y/n's head tilted back in pleasure.

"oh, lando...fuck, you feel incredible inside me."

"i love making love to you, darling." lando breathed before kissing her, letting go of one of y/n's hands to grip her waist as he started thrusting quicker. "i love hearing you moan my name, feeling your skin against mine."

she used her free hand to grip lando's hair, holding his head close as the driver started kissing the breast that he hadn't paid attention earlier.

that was another incredible thing about lando norris: there wasn't a single part of her body that he left unloved when they had sex.

"did i mention how much i adore your boobs?" he said moments later, a certain giddiness in his tone and a grin on his face that y/n found it impossible not to match, even while lando was almost balls-deep inside of her, breaking out in a grin right before a particularly deep thrust had her letting out a moan that made her entire body shake.

"once or twice." she said dreamily, pulling lando back in for a kiss, hiking her leg further up to give lando better access to a deeper angle.

"oh, just like that, love." lando moaned, quickening his pace once again. "oh, i doubt that i'm going to last much longer."

“I don’t think I will either.” she remarked casually, feeling the familiar knot in her stomach as she kissed lando hungrily, a kiss that was all tongue and teeth.

landos breath hitched as he felt y/ns walls begun to close around him, his thrusts faltering as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“come for me darling.” he encouraged, nipping at her neck. “I’ve got you, love. let go for me.”

she reached for landos hand, squeezing down hard as her entire body shook from her orgasm, face buried in landos neck to muffle her cries of pleasure. Lando reached his own peak shortly after, the couple lying skin-to-skin underneath the covers, her head on his chest.

“I love you, you big dork.” y/n said with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on landos jaw.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” the driver grinned, shifting his position on the bed. “are you warm enough, love?” he worried, pulling the duvet cover up and over her shoulders.

“I’m fine, baby.” she chuckled, tracing shapes on his skin. “the house is beautiful.”

“isn’t it? if we put down a rug and a few chairs, maybe a coffee table in front of the fire, it makes the perfect place to play another round of strip monopoly.”

y/n laughed. “again? are you sure your ego could handle losing again?”

“love, trust me. it was not ‘losing’ when the night ended with me inside of you anyways.”

“I can’t wait to start making memories in this house with you.” she smiled, shifting her position so that she was looking down at lando. “just you and me, maybe a tabby cat.” she paused. “a baby…one day?”

lando smiled, kissing her softly. “one day, my love. one day. I’d love to start a family with you. once the time is right.”

#the cozy collection 2022 #lando norris #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lovelytsunodas eclectic music taste #f1 smut #Spotify

[michwritesstuff]

I Love You… (Top Gun Maverick: Jake Seresin)

haven’t posted something in forever but i just graduated and have some free time so i’ll be working on some things for a while! enjoy this little blurb i thought of while re-entering my top gun maverick phase :)

summary: female reader (she/her) x Jake Seresin Jake Seresin never saw himself settling so quickly, but something about you makes it so easy to fall in love and fall so fearlessly. What better way to celebrate that love than the first dance at your wedding?

notes/warnings: some sweet hangman fluff, he’s just so in love he’s embarrassed; flashback in pink :)

word count: 700+

If someone told Jake Seresin that in a few short years he would currently be dancing with the love of his life at their wedding, he would have laughed in their face and politely told them to fuck off.

It’s not like Jake opposed marriage. He adored watching how in love his parents were and was ecstatic when his sisters got married. He just didn’t believe that it was an option for him, not so soon at least.

He was at the height of his career, a career that was mentally and physically demanding and constantly required him to relocate and ship off to unknown locations for an indeterminate amount of time. These conditions were less than agreeable for fostering a relationship.

Then there was you.

As Jake would explain it, you changed everything for him.

The scary feeling of falling in love too fast and recklessly seemed a little more manageable with you by his side.

He could still remember the day he first told you he loved you. He was the first one to say it and that thought alone scared the absolute shit out of him. He was pretty sure you felt the same way. You had gone back and forth for weeks with flirty remarks, lingering touches and glances that were almost unbearable, and yet…taking that next step felt like too much.

You had been frequenting the Hard Deck with your co-workers turned friends for a few months now, often needing some time and space to let loose in a less constructive manner.

In your frequent visits you had befriended many of the locals, including a few of the naval aviators from the base nearby. The Dagger Squad, as they called themselves, turned out to be a great group of friends who proved to be caring and supportive to no end.

As you crowded the pool table and darts in the back of the bar you threw your head back in laughter as Rooster clutched his heart in a mocking and offended manner as you and Phoenix ganged up on his awful pool technique.

“How dare you y/n, to think I was getting ready to share my secrets with you,” he responded.

“You have a secret to how much you suck? I think you’re better keeping that one to yourself little chick,” you smiled, reaching for where you placed your bottle, just to discover it no longer remained in the place you had left it.

Searching around, your eyes scanned the area before landing on a certain blonde making his way towards you with a new bottle in hand.

“Seresin,” you scolded.

“I hadn’t even finished that one yet.”

“I know, but you were talking to Rooster for so long it was warm. No one likes warm beer. I did you a favor.”

“Jake Seresin!” you exclaimed, giving him an excusatory look.

“What?” he responded; confusion clearly etched into his face as the crease between his eyebrows deepened.

“Are you jealous of Rooster?”

“HA WHAT? I—I… I am not jealous of Rooster” he grimaced at his name.

“Let me rephrase that,” you smiled.

“Are you jealous that I was giving Rooster so much attention?”

“Well, he’s not the one that loves you,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

You weren’t even sure you heard him correctly, but the growing redness that spread across his face in a blushed manner confirmed your suspicion.

“You love me?” you asked, your voice quiet and less confident than it had seemed before.

Jake could barely stand to look at you, his chin held up and eyes darting everywhere but you as he slowly nodded in confirmation.

“Jake,” you stated again, your finger trailing up to his cheek.

He leaned into your touch before looking down to meet your eyes again.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pulling his head down to meet your lips in the softest and most loving kiss that you have ever experienced.

You pulled away breathlessly, admiring the loving look on Jake’s face as his cheeks deepened and ever darker shade of pink.

“Finally, now when’s the wedding?” Rooster excitedly mocked as the rest of the squad joined him in a slow clap.

You giggled as Jake pulled you into his side as he flipped off the squad while telling them to fuck off.

Now here you stood, swaying to the beat of the music with your husband as your friends and families gathered around the dance floor in admiration.

As the song played out you couldn’t help but smile and think about the future the two of you were about to embark on.

With the ending notes you had one final spin before returning to Jake’s chest, the largest grin on your faces as you sang to each other…

I love you.

check out the rest of my masterlist :)

#teentvimagines #top gun masterlist #top gun maverick #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #top gun maverick masterlist #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin #hangman x y/n #hangman x female reader #hangman x f!reader #Spotify

[crybyemissamericanpie]

Old friend - Mike Schmidt x gn!reader (angst)

Old friend - Mike Schmidt x gn!reader (angst)

TW:Mention of suicide attempts,Mention of abuse,Bit of cursing

The office was thick with tension as Mike met their gaze, the lingering smell of coffee seemingly in line with the general ambience of the room.

While others may have assumed there was a deeper layer of resentment at work, the truth was that there was simple too much pride involved between the two of them to acknowledge any animosity.

Mike spoke up first, voice low and carrying a hint of tension in it, “I’m doing my job perfectly fine, I don’t understand why they brought you in."

They were no strangers to eachother and they had some history too,they knew each other way back in high school,they weren't in good condition now for sure

"You fell asleep on the job"They says looking at Mike with a calm face

“I was resting my eyes…” Mike murmured,annoyed “They look just the same as closed ones, anyway.”

He shifted in his seat, the chair letting off a slight creak. Mike hated this place with a passion, the night-shift being too quiet and lonely for comfort, so he had always taken to having a nap whenever possible. It was a wonder the boss hadn’t caught on by now…but suddenly an old ex-friend of his decides to show up,and get the job just to be with him“You and I have been through this song and dance before…”He said.silence fills the room

"We both fucked up okay?you don't have to always bring up the past"They say,frustrated.Looking down at Mike who is sitting infront of the desk with the cameras to the whole place

“What exactly have I ever done wrong?” Mike demanded, voice low - although more out of his general dislike of speaking.

The truth was, he and them had always been the same,both just as stubborn as each other and too proud to concede on anything.

“I’m not the one who left my responsibilities to chase a boy.” Mike muttered,looking away from their eye trying not to hold eye contact.

Mike and Their fathers really liked each other so they grew up together,but when both of their parents died, something clicked inside of them

They stays quiet for a moment,looking at Mike

"I was going through something too, you know what it was...And yeah I chased a boy! Yeah! I left my whole life behind me for a boy that just ruined me,cheated on me and abused me physically and mentally and I was left broken."They burst out

"I didn't get in contact with you cause I knew that I couldn't even take care of myself not even you and Abby,i didn't wanna give both of you another hard thing, to deal with also with me. When I accepted of what happened I tried helping cause I knew that I could finally help and not just be a distraction"They says,their eyes full of hope

Mike stayed stone-still as he listened to your sudden and lengthy explanation, mind racing with different thoughts and reactions. His own mothers hadn’t been fond of them either, although there weren’t any concrete reasons for their dislike they simply “had a feeling”.

He considered their words for a long moment.he understood their struggle, and understood why they did what they did. But they couldn’t run from your responsibilities when it came to family, and leaving Abby behind didn’t help any.

“You could’ve tried a bit harder.” Mike muttered eventually.

They sigh"mike.listen here, I tried to kill myself a lot in that time but do you know why I didn't do it?Because of you and Abby,cause I knew and thaught that if I'm in a better place of mind I could help and you would accept it"They confesses hardly and a bit harshly,their eyes darting into his trying to not shed a tear

“I understand that….” Mike mumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t known that they had dealt with anything close to that, but now he could see the toll it had taken on them.

Mike didn’t want to seem weak, despite his true thoughts and feelings on the situation, “It’s still not great that you just left us like that. What if I needed you?”

"I would have been a distraction,I couldn't help you or Abby if I didnt know how to help myself,I would have been just another ton of weight on your back for you to worry about"They say,trying to keep their breath steady

“And I wasn’t a distraction to you?” Mike demanded, voice louder than before out of spite.

He couldn’t help but feel hurt by some of their words - they were true, yes, and they had certainly done the right thing by staying away at that time, but it still sucked that they hadn’t kept in touch with him or Abby.

“You left me, and Abby, and we didn’t hear anything from you for years!” Mike pointed out.

"Bullshit,I sent birthday cards and holiday cards everyday with a small stupid qoute on it and my name!"They said fighting for justice ,for mike to realize that they arent that bad that mike think they are

“You think cards meant anything to me? You know Abby, she loved those cards, she used to read them over and over as if they were some kind of message of hope,” Mike said, voice softening.

“But for me? They only served as a reminder that my best friend had left.” Mike murmured.

"I was ashamed of who I was of what have I become,I moved country side,I had food delivery,I had a job that I didn't have to talk to people and stay in my house and just write, I would have never had a thought that maybe I could show up to your guys house"They whisper and admit,they were dreaned at the time,mentally and that made them sick

they wouldnt get out of bed,brush teeth,eat,work out,cook.

do anything.basically.

But Mike didnt know that even after they confess,he would never understand,he saw them just as a person who cut him and Abby out of their life without saying goodbye and now suddenly wants to come back or...

Mike thought about it for a moment, considering their words and what they had gone through.

He knew the feeling of shame, and the weight that accompanied it, and knew how hard it was to escape from that place.

Still, no matter the reason, they had left his only sister for years without a word although they had suffered, what right did they have to do that to not even Mike but Abby?

“Why did you come back?” Mike asked,raising an eyebrow as he looks up at them

"im-..."They sigh"im here to help you guys,i talked to Abbys teacher and im worried and finally i can help"They say

silence.

Mike furrows his eyebrows,a bit of guilt washes over him but he tries to ignore it

"you dont have to accept,if you want me to never talk to you or abby ever again and just keep sending cards,ill do it."They say as they look into his eyes

He sighs"We dont need your help.You can leave"Mike mutters under his breath

They nod and walk out of the office.

The guilt was still on Mikes heart but he didnt trust them now,he didnt want them to come back to their life and then leave like a building

Mike just sat there and thought was he right was he wrong?questions filled his head but his choice was final.he sees them leave throught the cameras,getting into their car ,then driving away...

#mike schimdt x reader #Mike schmidt #Mike schmidt x gn!reader #Mike schmidt angst #Mike schmidt x reader angst #FNaF movie #FNaF x Reader #Abby Schmidt #Michael schmidt #Michael Schmidt x reader #Michael Schmidt x reader angst #light angst #angst with a sad ending #angst with a hopeful ending #sad angst #sad backstory #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x gn!reader #josh hutcherson FNaF #Peeta Mellark x reader #Clapton Davis x reader #Josh futterman x reader #Josh Futturman x reader

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time  |  Chapter Five

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You report for your first day back in the Shelby household, but things aren’t what you expected.

Warning: language, drinking, smoking, the shelbys are wild, tommy is a soft boi

ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 5: Broken Crown

Well, touch my mouth and hold my tongue, I’ll never be your chosen one. I’ll be home, safe and tucked away. Well you can’t tempt me if I don’t see the day. 

The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie. ‘Cause when I open my body I breathe in a lie. 

And I will not speak of your sins. There was a way out for him. The mirror shows not, your values are all shot. But oh, my heart was flawed, I knew my weakness. So hold my hand, consign me not to darkness.

— Broken Crown, Mumford & Sons

Showers were another luxury you realized you’d taken advantage of in the 21st century. God did you miss showers. If you ever got back to your own time, you’d never take for granted the access to hot water on demand again. 

After a few months of living this way, you’d begun to get used to some of these daily adjustments. But on mornings when you had to hurry, the reminder of how easy your life used to be was painfully difficult to ignore.

You had reason to rush this morning, though. After alternating between pacing in your apartment and lying awake in your bed, you’d finally managed to fall asleep around four in the morning. Enough to get a full hour of sleep before your alarm clock started to chime. 

That’s when the rushing began. You felt the need to dress miles better than you normally did for your pub shifts, which meant putting in efforts to manage your hair and find something clean and professional to wear and did you still have that lipstick that Ada gave you —

And you felt ridiculous for it. 

It’s not like you were even starting a new job. It was the job you’d been doing for over a month now and you knew exactly what you were in for: hours of sitting cross-legged in Polly and Ada’s kitchen with books spread across the table with your back and neck bent forward. By the end of those days, your hair was a mess, your eyes were tired, and your spine was in serious need of a bulldozer to straighten your back out. 

Either way, you allotted yourself a double take in the mirror before you head out before the church bells rang, grabbing your own coat along with the one Tommy had left without the night before. 

You hugged the black cloth as you made the short walk down Watery Lane to the betting shop, your heartbeat rising the closer you got. 

Why were you so nervous? This was ridiculous — you were so stupid. 

But you knew why — you weren’t stupid. 

Your skin was still buzzing from the way he’d lifted his hand to your face and ran his thumb across your cheek, his pointer finger tracing your jaw line as his hand traveled down to your chin. You had tried to speak, you think you even managed to breathe out a pathetic “what?” before his thumb lifted slightly to catch the bottom of your lip. For a moment you were certain that he was going to close the gap between your breath when the air between you became a blur. But you watched his tongue dart out to lick his own lips before his eyes snapped back up to yours, his wrist flexing away from your skin like it’d burned him. 

He dropped his hand, then his head, before he retreated from your doorstep with a “see you in the morning” goodbye as if he hadn’t just dropped the bomb he had on you. 

Thomas Shelby had dreamed about you. 

In France. 

Months ago. 

He hadn’t even given you the chance to respond, to ask any further questions of clarity. Just touched your face and gave you that look that made you forget yourself — and then left. 

That bastard. 

You took a deep breath in attempt to steady your heart, shaking your head to knock some sense into you before knocking on the door. 

“Oi, who the fuck is it?” You heard an unknown man’s voice shout from the other side of the door. 

“How should I know?!” This time you recognized Ada’s voice, a smile tugging at your cheeks. “Open the bloody thing yourself and find out!”

You heard footsteps growing louder before the wood was flung open and a man stood in the doorway. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

The man had a thick mustache with hair in the same undercut as Tommy’s, but styled slightly different. His hair was lighter, longer, and thinner, and styled with some grease, combed toward the back of his head. Just glancing at him: his weathered skin, sharp chin, and worried brow, you’d assume he was closer to two decades older than you. But his eyes gave away his youth, and you guessed he was just a handful of years older than Tommy. He stood with his back straight in the doorframe, jaw clenched and head held high as he looked down at you — he reminded you of every bouncer you’d ever handed a fake ID to. 

You suspected this was Arthur, the oldest of the Shelby siblings. Before you could answer, a shriek came from behind the man in front of you. Ada emerged, pushing him aside and pulling you into the house before giving you a hug. 

Despite your earlier nerves and trepidation, you melted into the hug and reciprocated. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed Ada’s kinship over the past few weeks. 

“Ada, who the fuck is this?” 

“Arthur, give it a fuckin’ rest, will ya?” Ada rolled her eyes, waving off her brother and confirming your guess. “This is Y/N” 

“Ah, you’re the Y/N, eh?” another man walked into the room. 

This one looked closer to your age, another similar hair cut as Tommy and Arthur, his hair shorter at the top than the other two, and his features were a little rounder, more boyish. John, you guessed again to yourself, noting that it wasn’t just his facial features that gave him an air of boyishness. He smirked and crossed his arms, his eyes looking you up and down without apology or shyness. He reminded you of some of the guys from your youth — cocky in an obvious, probably overcompensating, kind of way.   

He smirked, “We’ve heard a lot about ya.”

“Shut up, John.” Ada rolled her eyes again. “Ignore ‘em, they’re just cranky because they have to be here so early.” 

“‘s not right,” Arthur grumbled, grabbing the whiskey bottle from the mantle and pouring himself a drink. “Who even called this bloody meetin’ anyway? Pol?” 

“Aye,” Polly’s voice came from around the corner as she entered the kitchen, tea kettle in her hands. “Now sit down, the lot of ya.” 

And they did as she said, even if Arthur grunted between sips the entire time. 

“What’s this about, Pol?” John asked, making himself comfortable on a bar stool, pulling out a toothpick and placing it between his teeth. 

“We wait for Thomas,” Polly replied, pouring three cups of tea and passing one of them to you without giving you a second look. 

“Screw Tommy,” Arthur gruffed, throwing back the remainder of his drink. “And if this is a family meetin’, what’s this broad doing here, eh?

“She’s our newest employee.” 

Tommy’s deep voice turned everyone’s attention to the kitchen doorway, the man himself leaning against the frame, his eyes surveying the scene before landing on you. 

God, your stupid heart and the way it made your breath hitch even the slightest at just the eye contact. It would be really helpful if you could remind your hormones that you weren’t a fucking teenager anymore and to get a grip. 

You’d been in relationships before. Throughout high school you’d had crushes and boyfriends, you’d had your heart broken in ways only a teenager could understand. Then you’d gotten a little older, and had the more complex relationships that came with college life. Sex, commitment, betrayal — all things you were familiar with by this point in your life. Hell, you’d even been close to being engaged once when one particular long-term boyfriend after college had started talking about forever in a way that made your skin start to itch. 

There had just always been that feeling that this wasn’t it in the past. Maybe it was commitment issues, maybe it was chemistry, maybe it was something outside of your control. But right now, with Tommy’s blue eyes peering at you, you couldn’t help but wonder…

Stupid, you shook your head. It was chemicals in your brain, you tried to reason. Bad boy syndrome — excitement of the unknown, of something new. That’s what this feeling was every time those damn orbs felt like they were piercing right through your soul. 

You felt Polly rise from her seat next to you, causing you to turn your head away from Tommy. She moved to lean against the fireplace behind you out of your sight when Tommy began speaking again.

“If we agree to it, that is,” he added, tilting his head slightly as his eyes lifted back up toward his brothers. He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “You’ve already been informed of the ways Y/N has helped our family while we were in France. Polly has proposed that she continue her employment, and I agree. Do we have any objections?”

John and Arthur looked to each other before the former rose his hand. “She ain’t blood. We ‘ave a code. How can we trust her?”

“Come off it, John,” Ada groaned, rolling her eyes for the third time. 

“Ada I’m serious,” he insisted, looking back toward you. “We know nothin’ about her.”

“I’ve already vetted her,” Tommy replied. 

John scoffed, mumbling, “Yeah, I bet you ‘ave. How could she answer your questions with your cock in her mouth—“

“She is gonna smack you if you keep talking about her like she’s not sitting right here,” you finally spoke up, hating that everyone was talking about you like you weren’t sitting in the middle of the room. 

John’s brow creased as he leaned forward in his chair, obviously angry at your outburst to him. You held his gaze with your own before his moved to look over your head. He cracked his neck before settling back down in his chair, avoiding your eyes for Tommy’s. You realized Polly must have made a face or something to make him back off, and your heart swelled once again at the gesture. 

Ada poorly hid her chuckle in her fist next to you. 

Still, you felt pretty blind sighted by this entire ordeal, and you were sure your expression showed it. Tommy’s eyes met yours before he went on, yours doing nothing to hide the daggers shooting his way for setting you up like this. He knew you’d be walking into this place thinking you had the job, not having to prove yourself again to the rest of his family. 

Your eyes narrowed when you caught the muscle in his cheek flinch, the corner of his lip rising at your glare before he ran his hand across his face and went back to addressing his brothers. 

“You boys have seen the work she’s already done for us. Y/N is educated and perceptive.”

Whether it was the surprise of seeing Tommy (nearly) smile at your death glare, or the vote of confidence, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks blush at the compliment.  

“We can trust her.” 

You began to smile. 

“And if we cant, she understands the consequences.”

And immediately the smile dropped. 

For a moment, you spotted pity in Ada’s eyes, like she’d seen exactly what those consequences have looked like. And she probably had. 

Imagining someone like Ada or even Polly being that way was difficult for you. They were a little rough around the edges, sure — but at their core, you knew they both had huge hearts and believed in what was fair. 

Tommy on the other hand — well, you were kind of conflicted. It was hard not to psychoanalyze him after your game. You tried not to, obviously a person was much deeper than their first (or second) impression. But he’d given you so much, you couldn’t help but begin to put the pieces together. He’d shown you a softness last night, one you believed wasn’t something he did very often or with the public. He made you feel safe, even when you’d been strangers in the cover of night — and he made you feel like you could be yourself for the first time since you’d awoken in this time.

On the other hand, the more logical side of your brain (the only part apparently that wasn’t affected by those damn hormones) knew that believing you knew everything about the man in front of you would be a massive miscalculation. You had to keep your wits about you no matter what, if you were to ever understand what you were doing here or how you could get back. 

You didn’t know Tommy Shelby, you kept reminding yourself, no matter what the Twenty Questions game had revealed. 

And you had no idea the kind of man he was. 

He had warned you, sort of, that the Peaky Blinders’ business got gruesome. You pictured a scene of blades slicing flesh and beatings in the streets, of lifeless bodies tossed into the Cut…

You swallowed before rising your chin and nodding, your eyes meeting the two men appraising you. 

“Shall we vote?” Polly finally said above you. “For?”

Two hands rose immediately before Tommy nodded. John exhaled through his nose before shaking his head, then raising his hand quickly. 

“Arthur?” Polly promoted. “This family does everything out in the open. State your concern.”

The patriarch leaned back in his chair. “I don’t understand why we need ‘er. Things’ve been going just fine as is!”

“Things have not been going just fine as is, Arthur,” Tommy replied, his voice still calm despite the hint of condescension. “Even before France, we knew we were going to have to diversify our efforts and expand if we wanted to increase our income. The war put a pause on that and while Pol ran the business without a hitch in the meantime, the world is changing. We have to change with it.”

“It goes against our code—“

“They’re fuckin’ with our code!” Tommy finally shouted, his hand landing with a bang on the table, causing you to jump. “Just like those bastards on the lines! We ‘ave to take back what’s ours and make it so they can never shove us in the mud ever again! Eh?!”

The room didn’t respond. John’s gaze had fallen to the floor while Arthur’s glared at Tommy. 

The middle brother exhaled, before straightening back up and running a hand across his face again. 

“Y/N can help us take our first steps into the world of professionalism. Legitimacy. That, paired with drumming up new ways to earn money — they won’t be able to touch us.”

Arthur grabbed the bottle and took another gulp before huffing in defeat. “Fuckin— fine. Agreed.”

“Excellent,” Tommy replied dryly. “Y/N, with me.”

You rose up, still unable to find your voice through the whole charade, and followed Tommy through the door. 

“She willin’ to whore for all of us, then?” Arthur yelled from the other room. 

Your feet rounded in their step and an actual growl left your throat as you went to confront the older brother—

Tommy grabbed your shirt and pulled you back toward him before you could make it to the door. “Ignore him,” he insisted at your resistance, pulling you along with him as he continued to walk. “He’s just a sore loser.”

“He could have voted no, then,” you replied, crossing your arms as you shrugged out of his grasp, following Tommy on your own again. 

“It would ‘ave been the stupid vote, and he knows it. He doesn’t like change, just needs some time to get used to ya.” 

You followed him into one of the offices of the empty betting den and stood in the doorway as he grabbed a couple books. 

“You can start with these. Catch up on what you missed starting with the oldest and work your way to today—“

“Why did you imply last night that I had the job if I didn’t actually have it?” you asked when your brain finally got a moment to breathe. 

Tommy exhaled as he looked back up toward you, obviously exhausted already with having to explain his actions. 

“That could technically qualify as a lie and we had a sacred handshake,” you added, his brow rising at the implication. You shrugged, “Was it just to catch me off guard? See how I’d react in the lions’ den.”

He hummed in amusement, moving to stand back in front of you. “I always honor my handshakes. I knew the vote was already three to two going in. They knew this was comin’, we just needed the formality of the family vote to sanctify.”

A reluctant breath left your nose as you considered his point. 

“You didn’t have to,” he nodded down to the coat in your hands. 

Without even giving it a second thought since you walked into the house, you realized you’d been clutching the article like a security blanket. “Oh, you forgot it last night.” 

“Didn’t forget,” his voice grew soft again as he took another step forward. “Winter’s here, it’ll get even colder with the new year. You’ll need it.” 

He peeled the coat from your hands, brushing against them softly as he did, before stepping away to hang it on the rack in the corner of the office. 

You rose your brow. “Then why the excuse? You already knew where I lived, obviously.”

“It was late,” he shrugged. “You need to be more careful in this city, especially now. Here,” he pulled out a seat at the small table in the room. 

“I thought you wanted to keep my employment a secret,” you commented, looking through the windows of the office. “Won’t people see me working in here?” 

Tommy pulled out his cigarette case, grabbing a stick, and running it between his lips the same way he had the night before. “Shop’s closed, it’s a holy day.” 

“Oh.”

He hummed, “We’ll have to figure out something more permanent for you in the future — Pol said she had you working in the kitchen with the doors shut.”

“Aye,” you felt the need to defend her for some reason. “No one ever bothered us.” 

“Things have changed, I’d imagine, since the last time you were here. The place is busier than ever, we’ve had to extend our open hours, and we’ve had to increase security. I’d bet even a holy day wouldn’t keep ‘em away.”

His reasoning seemed sufficient enough for you to finally take the seat he’d pulled out for you. You took the opportunity to scan the room, “Who’s office is this, anyway?”

“Mine,” he replied without looking up as he walked over to the desk. You watched as he lifted some papers up to read, then lay them back down. “I’ll go grab your tea while you get settled.”

He left the room with his fists shoved in his pockets and his head downcast. 

You took his absence as an opportunity to look around the office, curious what his workspace looked like. It was quite bare — a lamp, papers, and a bottle of something brown sat on the desk and a few pictures hung on the wall. 

You recognized the portrait of King George V. It was weird to see a picture or hear reference of the monarch that wasn’t about the Queen. It was even crazier when you realized that Tommy would have been alive when Queen Victoria’s reign was still going on, and had since lived through one other monarch between her and who sat on the throne currently. Meanwhile, back in your time, Queen Elizabeth II had already outlasted Victoria’s rule and had been ruling your entire life. 

Well, not your current life, you corrected. 

You shook the thought away and continued to look around. It felt very… unused, you realized. Like the boys were still settling back into everything. You wondered how often Tommy had even sat in this seat since they got back. 

On the desk laid the pocket watch you’d recognized from the night before, the name “Shelby” etched on the smooth side in cursive. There were papers similar to others you’d seen Polly write and review laid across the desk. 

You moved to walk back to the table when something different caught your eye — the edge of a weathered photograph was peaking out from under a stack of papers. Your hand reached forward to pull it out, pausing for a moment when you realized how invasive you were being. But curiosity trumped politeness as you carefully pulled it out enough to see a face in the photograph. 

A girl — a beautiful girl, with dark hair and full lips sat regally posed in the photo, a white hat on her head. 

You realized then that you hadn’t even considered if Tommy were involved with another woman. You knew he wasn’t married, Ada would have mentioned it along with John — but it could have been completely possible that he was seeing someone, even now. 

A part of you felt strangely betrayed by that thought. Tommy was not yours — you hadn’t even kissed — hell, you hadn’t even spent more than a handful of hours with him. So why did the thought of him and this woman in the photograph together leave you feeling more jealous than any other relationship you’d ever been in? 

There was writing on the photograph in the corner still covered by the papers. You pulled it out further and saw the date first: 1914. There was more writing under, possibly a name that could identify the woman —

The sound of a throat clearing caused you to jump. “Shit—“ you gasped, your eyes meeting Tommy’s in the doorway of the office, a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “You scared me, again.” 

He looked down at his desk, and you knew he could see the photo. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. “I don’t have an excuse. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No,” he finally said, walking into the office and handing you your tea cup. He rounded the desk and dropped the book. “You shouldn’t have.” 

He snatched the photo and shoved it into a drawer before sitting down at the desk and opening the book he’d brought in. 

Taking that as your cue to get to work, you felt like a little kid who’d just got caught stealing candy as you sat back down at the table and began to work. 

It was awkward at first, with your mind still lingering on whether Tommy was mad and who the woman was — but eventually you found yourself lost in the familiar books. 

Even though it’d been a couple weeks, and Tommy hadn’t been exaggerating on how much more business they’d been doing since they all returned, you found again the rhythm that you’d nearly perfected and fell back into it with ease. 

For the gambling business, it was mostly a matter of quality control. Half the time there weren’t even any issues with the books. The rest of the time it was just some mathematical human error or laziness of the notetakers part. And only a small percentage of the time was it actually something nefarious — someone thinking they could skim a little over time or using a pattern of betting that was trying to cheat the system. 

The family books had always been a bit more simple. Either people were paying, or they weren’t. 

But now you knew a little more. You understood the potential consequences that would happen to those who you reported. And while you had no love either way for the betting side of things (who were you to say how people spent the money they earned around here, especially since you’d come to realize that this, boxing, and soccer were some of the few forms of entertainment), you couldn’t help but ponder on the other side of the business. 

You thought about people like Harry and Mrs. Tully who were paying the Shelbys for… what, protection? Protection against who? you couldn’t help but wonder. And to those who decided they no longer wished to give the Shelbys their money, what happened to them? To that list of names Tommy had showed you the night before? 

You couldn’t help but wonder how Harry and Mrs. Tully had even began paying them for this service in the first place — did they go to the Shelbys for help, did they ask for this? Or was it something forced on them? A ‘pay us to keep you safe, or we’ll hurt you ourselves’ kind of business exchange?

Your eyes flickered up to look at Tommy for the first time in hours. He was in a similar position as you — back bent forward as he scribbled in that book of his. His hand thread through his hair as he contemplated something. 

You pictured what a Tommy Shelby of your day would look like, sitting in an office surrounded by the luxuries of 2018. You imagined his hair grown out on the edges, hair parted to the side and combed over in a fancy quaff, a tailored suit in a rich navy blue color with a gaudy gold Rolex on his wrist and a cigar between his fingers. 

Even like this, in 1918, Tommy still looked wealthier than most people in this town. He looked like a King amongst men — the King of Small Heath collecting taxes from the townsfolk for living there. You couldn’t help but wonder what contribution the Shelbys made in return — what did they do with the money? As far as you could see, it wasn’t going back into the community. At least taxes (sometimes) fixed roads. 

“You got something to say?” 

Tommy’s voice startled you, and you realized that you’d been staring at him as your thoughts consumed you. He was looking back at you, his brow rose in question. Part of you wondered if he could hear your thoughts — or if you’d accidentally said something accusatory out loud. 

“Well?” 

“No,” you answered quickly, before taking a deep breath. “I mean, yeah, but I feel it’s not my place to ask. I haven’t earned the right, I don’t think.” 

Tommy exhaled as he leaned back in his chair, grabbing the bottle and filling a glass. “That means you drink, right?” 

Your brain buffered for a second, realizing he was referring to your game from the previous night. “I believe we already reached our quota last night. Unless you’d care to start what you finished last night… or start again—“

“Does it have to be all or nothing?” He shrugged, ignoring your comment as he walked the glass over and took the seat across from you. “I quite liked the game. In my experience, it’s rare to ask a question and feel you get an honest answer.” 

You felt the muscles in your cheek tighten at the notion of a 1910s gangster enjoying the game of Twenty Questions. You wondered how he’d feel about Never Have I Ever…

“She was someone from before France.” 

Your eyes flickered back toward him, realizing that he’d mis-identified your musings. Not wanting to scare him off from sharing, you went with it, letting your curiosity win out once again. 

“I don’t talk about her.” 

You nodded, “Understood.” 

Tommy cleared his throat, “You, uh — you never mentioned if you were… If there was anyone…” 

“No,” you replied, your fingers on the glass.

He hummed in consideration. 

“I was, um,” you cleared your throat, trying to drum up the courage to ask what you’d actually wanted to know. “I was actually just wondering — the family business. I know people around here pay you for protection. But what other services do you offer?” 

His brow creased, “‘d’ya mean?”

You wished you’d thought through exactly what it was you were asking before you’d opened your big mouth. “For the town, I mean. For the people. I get the muscle aspect of it, but what’s the incentive for people to pay you for your protection?” 

Tommy took a drag of his cigarette as his brow furrowed. “And you think, what? We shouldn’t be charging ‘em? We should do it out of the kindness of our hearts?”

“No—“

“If we weren’t here,” he leaned forward, pointing his cigarette at you, “there would be others. There have been others. Worse.”

“I believe you,” you urged, leaning forward in kind to make sure he knew you were listening intently. “And no, I don’t think you should just give it away. But I think hoarding money turns people into something they never wanted to be. It has the power to corrupt in ways that could turn you into worse.” 

Tommy took a deep breath, leaning back into his chair before lifting the stick to his lips. “Pol always said to buy our popularity, if we can afford it. What do you suggest?” 

You exhaled, shrugging. “Cleaning the streets for a start. Providing jobs. Looking into charities or children’s homes, I don’t know… I just believe that ‘protection’ isn’t just making sure people are afraid of ya. It’s making them feel safe — to grow, to contribute, to add to the collective. The more you give, the more you get.” 

You threw back the drink, hoping that would put an end to your ramblings. 

“But strategically,” you added, your brain and mouth moving faster than your attempt to quiet them. “I’m not saying to give everything away over night. You need a plan, you need projections —“

“We need more income,” Tommy added. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ve been doing some research on other businesses — the Birmingham Boys and other organizations in London. I think the key lies in the races themselves.”

“Fixing races?” 

“Aye, something like that. It’s dangerous though, we’d have to start small. And once we start, we have to be prepared. There would be no integration, it’d be domination.” 

You nodded, your mind running with the gambit of other possibilities. “What about factories? The BSA seems to be booming since the war end, maybe there’s some kind of opportunity in there? Or alcohol? With the prohibition in America—“

Tommy chuckled, “Fools errand. That’ll never pass.”

Your mouth opened to counter, but snapped shut, realizing you were about to say too much again. He watched you carefully as you did this. You waited for him to press you on it, but he put out the bud into the tray on the table and stood up. 

“I have someone I have to go meet,” he finally said. “Try to finish as much as you can by the end of the day. Ada will try to come in here and chat, but see to it that you don’t stray for too long. We have somewhere we’re going tomorrow.” 

“We?” You asked, your brow rising. 

He nodded, walking to the door and calling out behind him as he left, “Dress warm. I’ll pick you up in the morning.” 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

Tag list: @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary (sorry if I missed anyone, I tried to list just the people who specifically asked to be added to a tag list - let me know if you’d like to be added to the next!)

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #mine #time after time #fanfiction #next chapter is in the works!! #lolz I love finding errors after I publish #not the twenty million times I proof it beforehand

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

❝hey baby girl! you look lost. maybe I should escort you back to the north side.❞

you roll your eyes as soon as you hear what the ghoulie is saying to you and you fume. if not for sweetpea and the stupid school project, you think to yourself, i wouldn't even be over on the south side past midnight. as the footsteps pick up behind you and the ghoulie continues to call out to you and try to get you to stop, you pick up your own pace.

sweetpea picks up his pace to match your own. when he heard what the ghoulies were planning after you left the wyrm, he rushed out the back way and he thought he'd catch up to you, maybe walk you home. just as you're about to turn the corner up the block, he closes the gap between you and a massive ring adorned hand clamps down on your shoulder, bringing you to a full stop.

❝get your fucking hands offa me!❞ you yell as you spin around fast, this catapulting you right into the towering mass that is sweetpea. you stare up at him for a few seconds, puzzled by his sudden appearance because when you left him at the wyrm, he was about to start a game of pool with that guy, fangs. your nose wrinkles. ❝you? what do you want, hm?❞ you question, your hand settled on your right hip as you tap your foot and your eyes dart around, just to be on the safe side.

❝Easy, princess.❞ sweetpea raises both hands as if to surrender and for the third time that night, eyes as dark as the night sky rake over your body. he steps closer, the front of your body bumping against the front of his softly. ❝you kiss your mother with that mouth, princess?❞ he teases; he's being a shit and he knows it. you roll your eyes and hold up your middle finger at him. ❝i thought you were that ghoulie asshole.❞ you mutter after seconds that seem to stretch on and on, forever.

sweetpea clenches his fists when you mention that one of the ghoulies was already harrassing you. you're the one who just had t' work with her, man. it's your fault she's even over on this side of the tracks to start with. - the thought comes and sweetpea raises his free hand - the one not resting on your hip at the moment, and rubs his face. ❝i'm walkin you home. fangs was right. i never shoulda let you leave by yourself.❞

and it's not a question, it's not an offer. it's a command. spoken in the firmest tone as sweetpeas' eyes dance over your little body and the way you've done it again, migrated closer to him. no matter how much you live to make his life hell, you're always close. too close. touching him with your smaller hands, your perfume making his mouth water, the flush in your cheeks and the flare of your nostrils when he's taken things too far and made you angry getting him all hot and bothered.

he's a little surprised when you meet his demand with no resistance, only a tired sigh and a grumbled obscenity under your breath as the two of you begin to trudge towards the grassy knoll that separates his side of the tracks from yours.

but the silence is too much. it's thick and heavy, it's enough to strangle you both. as you draw to a stop at the flickering streetlamp across the street from your house, you nod your head towards the house as you gaze up at the massive south sider.

❝well, this is it.❞ you mumble, uggs shuffling against concrete as you linger, hesitant to get in out of the cold. you're dying to ask him why he insisted you partner with him earlier in class but deep down you realize that asking will be you, opening pandora's box.

and maybe it's just better this way. maybe if you don't ask you can safely keep fighting the sparks you felt earlier tonight at the wyrm, sitting side to side with him in a back booth at the wyrm.

sweetpea starts to walk away, assuming you've gone inside after watching you walk up the concrete walkway that leads up your sloping front lawn to your porch. so this time, he's the one surprised when he's turned around. shoved up against the trunk of the nearest tree that lines the street as you mold yourself against him and raise to tiptoe, just barely grazing warm,soft lips against his in a chaste kiss as your hand lingers against his cheek. as you seem to come to your senses and pull away, sweetpea blinks, dazed.

before he can ask you why the hell you kissed him, you've bolted up your walkway and through the front door to your house, door banging shut behind you and the sound echoing off the night air.

he stands there to collect himself for a second or two and then he starts to make his way back over to the south side... more confused than ever now, no thanks to your little kiss.

#sweetpea #sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea x reader #sweetpea x you #sweet pea x y/n #( headcanons! ) #( blurbs. ) #☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ naughty thoughts & thots;