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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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what if all i need is you? (college bsf!suguru x you)

summary: after failed attempts to find a date to a relative's birthday party, your best friend acts as your fake boyfriend.

wc: 2.8k

cw/tags: fake dating, best friends to lovers, first kiss, implied fem!reader but no specific pronouns used (wears makeup and heels), swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, reader is kinda mean at the beginning but they're just stressed, satoru being satoru

note: back on my suguru bullshit! hope you enjoy :))

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <33

“You remember the plan?”

“Yep, I had it down the third and fourth times you repeated it.” You send him a glare out of the corner of your vision, carefully pulling the mascara wand up across your lashes. The dim car lights weren’t the ideal environment to finish getting ready, but whatever time you could waste out here was time you didn’t have to spend at the party.

“It’s all there. $250, like we agreed,” you say without looking at him as he flips through the stack of money from the yellow package hiding in the glove compartment. “I’m not giving you more, so don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” he reassures you, watching as you tensely tap fine glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes and spread it over your cheekbones. He inhales and you already anticipate what he was going to say. “You know, I really shouldn’t be taking your money–”

“I don’t care that you don’t want the money, Suguru. It makes me feel better, so please, shut up and take it,” you state for what felt like the tenth time. He sighs in defeat, eyeing you like you were a tiger pacing around a cramped cage in a zoo. Having your best friend go with you as your fake date to a relative’s birthday party both complicated and simplified things at the same time, which made you all the more tense for what might happen.

Date me for a month and earn $250! No commitment, no long-term relationships! Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXX for more info! is what the flyers that you stuck to the bulletin boards around campus proclaimed. It was a last-ditch effort to find a date to your grandmother’s cousin’s birthday party and a direct result of your family being too curious about your dating life in college. The plan was simple, in your head. You would find a random person to pretend to date for a month, bring them to the party, and then break up with them a week later. No harm done and no questions asked, right?

“Any takers on that dating flyer yet?”

“No,” you groan, letting your forehead hit the desk with a dull thud. It was harder than you thought it would be to find someone to act as your fake boyfriend. “All they want is sex or to negotiate a higher pay. They think I’m a hooker or a trust fund baby, I guess.”

“I can confirm that you are neither of those things,” he chuckles from the other side of the line. “Unless, you have some news to tell me.” You snort and shake your head, taking notice of the darkness outside your window. It must have been hours since you first started your phone call with Suguru and forced him to help you through a homework assignment, and the rumbling in your stomach was becoming a little more insistent.

“Shit. It’s late, so I’ll let you go. Sorry for keeping you for so long.” You start to tidy the various study sheets and highlighters scattered across your desk, carefully straightening the polaroid of you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko on the day of your high school graduation. “Thanks for helping me, even though I’m gonna forget all of this in a few hours.”

“I don’t mind teaching you again. Have you eaten yet? Because I’m starving.” The rumbling in your stomach becomes more of a growl at the mere mention of food and you silently curse him for reminding you that all you had in the cupboard was instant noodles. “If you say no and then proceed to make those sodium bombs you call food, I’m gonna hit you with an inflatable mallet.”

“Okay,” you reply. “Then, I won’t tell you.”

“Smartass,” he mutters and you hear the clinking of his car keys being grabbed from off the hook above his desk. “I’ll be there in ten. Grab a jacket; it’s chilly out.” Twenty minutes later, you’re bundled up in a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop near campus, barely able to eat from sheer anxiety. It was a shitty situation you’d found yourself in and the only way to get through it unscathed would be to disappear off the face of the planet. Your best friend seems to notice you poke at your noodles with your chopsticks and sets down his pair with a determined look. “Alright, what’s bothering you?” You shrug and avoid his eyes, leaning back into the dark corner of the booth.

“Nothing,” you mumble and he raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m just stressed about this stupid party thing.”

“Remind me why you need a date for this in the first place?”

“My grandma’s cousin is super old. Like, one foot in the grave old,” you state plainly and some water shoots out of Suguru’s nose as he tries to cover a laugh. “I’m serious! I’ve never known her and, from what I can gather, no one really likes her anyways.” You hand him a clean napkin with a small, amused smile while he continues to cough uncontrollably, humming at the small thank you he manages to choke out. “But, my family wants me to at least act like I have a boyfriend for the night so she can have peace of mind.” You give him a knowing look and it takes him a few seconds to put the pieces together.

“Wait, your family wants you to pretend to have a boyfriend so your grandma’s cousin can die at peace?” You nod slowly and his face contorts into something like horror and shock, unsure of whether to laugh or feel sorry for you. “Shit. Sorry, I mean–”

“No, it’s okay,” you giggle. “You can laugh. It’s fucking ridiculous. To be fair, they just told me to find a boyfriend. They didn’t specify how long we had to be together.”

“And that’s why you put the flyers up,” he concludes, “to hire someone to play your boyfriend for the night.” You nod again and he shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind.” Your jaw drops in indignance and you threaten to drop an ice cube in his ramen in retaliation.

“I think it’s a pretty smart idea,” you argue.

“What if the guy catches feelings?”

“Sucks for him. I’m not paying him to fall in love with me,” you reply bluntly and Suguru shakes his head in disbelief. ��What? Is what I’m doing wrong? I’m only seeing it as a business transaction, plain and simple.”

“A business transaction that hasn’t actually transacted yet, and the party is when?” You feel your face start to heat in embarrassment. He made a good point.

“Tomorrow,” you mumble. “The party’s tomorrow night.”

“See? There’s no way you’re gonna find someone good enough in time.”

“Well, what do you propose I do? Skip it entirely and kill the old lady early?”

“That’s definitely not what I was suggesting,” he corrects. “What if you just…took me instead?” You freeze, a little shocked by his idea. It was true that a certain amount of attraction existed in you towards your best friend, something that you swore never to act on for fear of losing his friendship. You never bothered asking if he felt the same because you knew him too well; you knew how he was around girls he liked, even though the last one was when you both were in high school. Sure, it was possible that he started liking you once you started college, just like you noticed him in a different light during your first semester. But either way, you were resigned to letting the feelings come and go as they usually did. Except, the feelings hadn’t left for three years. “Are you silent because you’re mortified or silent because you’re thinking it over?”

“A little bit of both,” you admit.

“How so?”

“You do know my family has been wanting us to get together for years now, right?” An unreadable look passes over Suguru’s face, a look that you can’t decipher even after knowing him for so long.

“I’m well aware. Your parents have pulled me aside several times trying to pass along family heirlooms to use when I inevitably get on one knee.” Your eye twitches and you make a mental reminder to scold your family when you see them next. “But why is that an issue?” Truthfully, it wasn’t that much of an issue if you set aside your own feelings. Having Suguru there meant that he already knew the dynamics of your family, how to handle your relatives, and had a general grasp of what to expect at the party. It simplified things, but your own harbored feelings complicated any thought of acting like a couple. It would feel too real and you knew how much it would hurt when the clock struck midnight and you went back to being friends. That’s a little too much to unpack over ramen, though.

“I just don’t want them making you uncomfortable,” is what you settle with telling him. Something like disappointment blinks across his face, but disappears just as fast as it comes. It’s replaced with a wry smile, one that makes your head fuzzy and stomach bubbly.

“They won’t. My only focus is you,” he promises before launching into a new conversation about his latest biochem project. Now, ten minutes after your heels crossed the threshold of the front door, Suguru was doing a little too good of a job of only focusing on you. Even though the music of the venue blares and there’s enough family and friends to stampede you like poor Mufasa in the Lion King, Suguru doesn’t seem to care about any of it. He falls into his role as your ‘boyfriend’ as easily as the last piece of a puzzle being maneuvered into place, holding your hand with a steady grip, then snaking it around your waist, and sending you fond smiles when nobody's watching. Your parents are delighted, to say the least, and drag him away from you at the first available moment. You settle in a corner of the ballroom with a small plate of pickings from the dessert table and wait for him to return from his interrogation with your parents.

“It’s about time you two got together,” a familiar, sing-songy voice says quietly from over your shoulder and you flinch, instinct telling you to stab him with your ornate plastic fork. You turn and find your other best friend wearing a tie and a shit-eating grin, tucking a silver hors d'oeuvres tray under a lanky arm.

“Satoru! What the fuck are you doing here?” You glance around to see if anyone has noticed you recognizing a random waiter and, thankfully, everyone is too engrossed in gossiping about your fake boyfriend for the night.

“I’m Suguru’s backup just in case things go south,” he drawls and you pinch the bridge of your nose with two fingers. “Here to cause a scene if something goes wrong.”

“You’re here to sabotage my relative’s birthday party?”

“Here to potentially sabotage your relative’s birthday party.” He sticks up his index finger in emphasis and you groan, rolling your eyes and popping another small brownie into your mouth. He copies you, plucking a cupcake from your plate and swallowing it in one bite. “I gotta say, it took you long enough. I’ve been in agony watching this entire thing pan out.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you high?”

“Not right now, no, but maybe later.” He shoots you a grin even though you know full and well none of you smoke. “I’m just saying that I’m happy you’ve finally realized your feelings for each other.”

“What feelings? There’s no feelings,” you lie straight through your teeth and he sees through it like glass.

“I may be stupid, but I’m not blind. If you don’t see that Suguru likes you back, then you’re the one with vision problems. Sucks for you.” He shrugs and you flick his arm lightly, glaring daggers at him but unable to fight down the curiosity poking at the back of your mind.

“You think he actually likes me back?”

“He’s liked you since senior year, idiot,” he scoffs like your question was a funny joke. “I’m not here to fill in if he gets food poisoning from the questionable shrimp cocktail; I’m here to support either of you if your feelings get in the way and your dumbasses can’t communicate efficiently.”

“That’s…really thoughtful of you, Satoru,” you mutter and he raises one eyebrow teasingly.

“Wasn’t my idea. It was Suguru’s. ‘In case something happens and they’re not comfortable with me taking them home, for whatever reason.’ That’s what he made me promise and why I’m pretending to be a waiter for the night.” His attention darts upward to his best friend approaching your table and he pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Speaking of. Go get your man.”

“I hate you, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” He knocks his shoulder against yours before disappearing into the kitchen, on his way to probably steal a bottle from the wine cellar.

“Uh oh, looks like you’ve found my undercover operative,” he jokes as he sets a drink in front of you and steals a cookie from your plate.

“Actually, he’s the one who found me. You should fire that guy for blowing his own cover,” you remark and the corner of Suguru’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “It’s nice of you to ask him to be here in case something went wrong.”

“I’m an engineering major. We plan for the worst case scenarios.”

“What’s the best case scenario?” His eyebrows furrow in question but you don’t relent. No turning back now. “What’s the ideal outcome of this situation, besides the money?” He thinks for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek when a slow song starts playing through the loudspeakers.

“Dance with me,” he replies, holding out his hand for you to take. Way to change the subject. “Please?”

“You’re not getting out of my question.” You let him lead you to the dance floor, trying not to get goosebumps as one of his hands finds your waist and the other laces his fingers with yours. “Why’d you offer to do this with me, anyway?”

“What, dancing? Or coming with you to the party?”

“Second one.” That unreadable look crosses his face again, the same one from the ramen shop when he first brought up being your fake date. It felt like anything he said was just covering up a truth that you both were dancing around; but, something in the air made you want to face that truth tonight.

“Because I’m your friend,” he murmurs and you can’t help feeling a little let down by his answer. You let it show in your face, but he’s avoiding your eyes. “That’s what friends do for each other.” He clears his throat and tries to blow a stray strand of black hair from his face, going deathly still when your own fingers brush it away and tuck it behind his ear.

“We’re just friends?”

“What do you–”

“What if I wanna be more?” His eyes finally snap to meet yours and his pupils are blown wider than you’d ever seen before, deep and dark and staring at you so intensely, you’re glad he’s supporting your waist. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his gaze flicking up and down between your eyes and your lips.

“I don’t wanna mess this up,” he whispers so quietly that you wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t inches away from his face. “I don’t wanna mess up what we have.”

“I don’t think we would be messing it up,” you point out just as softly. “If anything, we’d be making it better.” His thumb comes up to trace the outline of your jaw, sending chills up your spine.

“Are you sure that you want this with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“I don’t know, because I feel like I don’t deserve you and–”

“Okay, stop talking,” is the last thing you say before you tilt your head up to press your lips against his. You’re careful and frustratingly gentle, giving him ample opportunity to pull away and reject you. But, to your delight, he kisses back with more fervor than you, like he’d been waiting for years to experience this feeling. He sighs into your mouth as you grab the collar of his button up and pull him even closer, his hands holding firm at your waist until you pull away to breathe.

“Make sure you take down those flyers once we’re back on campus,” he breathes into your ear. You let your eyes flutter shut and hum in assent, leaning your head against his.

“Why do you bring them up?”

“Because your fake boyfriend just got promoted to real boyfriend.” You initially dismiss the single click and bright flash as the photo booth serving its clients, but are also equally unsurprised when Suguru meets you outside your 9:00 A.M with a Polaroid between his fingers of you two dancing at the party. And the caption?

First kiss! (Taken by Gojo Satoru, ultimate wingman)

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

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wheredafandomat · 6 months

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I had to quickly think of this to quell my tears 😭😭

Imagine Loki basically time slipping into your bed before the end 🤣🤣

18+ contains smut wk 600

“What just happened?” You asked, breaking the kiss and opening your eyes as you noticed Loki pause for a moment as a strange feeling engulfed you for a second before dissipating. “Loki?” You questioned, eyes narrowing in confusion at his perplexed yet frantic expression.

“I-I know what I have to do” he finally spoke, mostly to himself as he looked past you in thought.

“Loki, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?” You pleaded, worried now as you held his cheeks in your hands.

“Oh y/n” he began, eyes finally meeting yours as a fond smile spread across his face “how I’ve missed you” he exhaled before pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. Despite your confusion, considering the fact that you were both in bed where you had been the past hour, you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm. His grip around you tightened as he pulled you flush against him. He barely broke the kiss and when he did, his lips ventured across your face making you smile even more.

“What’s gotten into you?” You giggled.

“I just—I need to be close to you right now” he answered sincerely.

There was something almost unreadable about the look in his eyes. He looked mournful, sad. He looked broken, beaten up, fractured. Strangely you felt like this wasn’t the same Loki you had been snuggled up in bed with for the past hour, this Loki was subdued, mentally maimed. Only one thing remained, he was yours.

“I’m here” you answered, kissing him “I’m here” you repeated as he chased the kiss “I’m here Loki” you affirmed as he gently pushed you back against the bed, not breaking the kiss as he positioned himself above you, caging you between him and the bed almost protectively. His tongue moved against yours languidly as if he was savoring the kiss, like you didn’t have millions more to come.

It didn’t take long for him to line himself up with your entrance before pushing inside of you slowly, both of you panting against each other as he entered you. He was still, enjoying the feeling of your walls gripping him as he sucked against your tongue. You widened your legs, lifting your hips a little telling him he could move but he didn’t, he stayed like that, kissing you.

“Why does this feel like goodbye?” You eventually asked as he kissed your forehead. Instead of answering, Loki moved his hips, thrusting in and out of you as you clung onto him, one of your arms around his back.

Your words were forgotten between moans and praises as Loki fucked you. He felt so near, so intimate. If his lips were not against yours they were on your neck. You could hear the headboard hitting the wall, a sign that Loki was growing desperate, that he was close. Baring his teeth, Loki closed his eyes as he chased his pleasure feeling your walls tighten around his length.

“I’m so close, don’t stop” you begged, reaching your climax as it tore through you, leaving you shaking as Loki continued to move.

“I love you” he averred as he reached his peak, movements stilling as he came inside of you.

The feeling of something dripping onto your cheek caused you to open your eyes before you realised it was a tear. Loki’s tear. Suddenly your bygone words met your lips again.

“Why does this feel like goodbye?” You asked again, on the verge of tears yourself at his emotion.

“Because I have to protect you y/n, I have to protect everyone” he cleared his throat, biting down his emotion.

“No, Loki, please” you pleaded sadly “please?”

“I’m so sorry, I love you, always” he tried to smile, albeit sadly as you began to fade away, nothing but embers.

Tags 🖤

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#loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #tva loki #tva

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nsharks · 5 months

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

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Unplanned Surprise (Doctor Who Drabble)

Eleventh Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You have an unplanned surprise to tell the Doctor about.

CW: reader is GN but is pregnant, so the afab body is specified

DW: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr @midnight--raine @blueberry-sunshines @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @yeethaw13 @complimentary-breadbasket (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

“I’m pregnant,” you said, taking the bullet head-on and finally confessing to the Doctor the thing that had been plaguing you for quite some time. Well, only a few weeks- but it felt like a very long time.

You weren’t really sure what to expect from him, given that he was reasonably prone to unpredictability. Would he scream for joy? Would he cry? Would he send you away and never want to see you again? For once, the endless possibilities did not fill you with intrigue or confidence.

“Pregnant?” The Doctor repeated dumbly, wriggling his fingers thoughtfully. “How did that happen?”

His tone wasn’t upset, angry or joyous. It was just casual. He was being casual about this. Maybe it hadn’t quite sunk in yet? You blinked at him as the question actually registered.

“H-how did that happen? Doctor, you know exactly how that happened,” you blustered, mouth agape.

“Well, yes, conceptually, I know how you humans pro-create and conceive,” he broke off for a second, trying to think of the word. “Babies. But you and me?” The Doctor gestured between the both of you a little too aggressively. “Not the same species, remember? My ejaculate should not be able to impregnate you.”

You were lost for words, blinking confusedly. You supposed that made sense, but then again, the three tests you’d done had all said you were pregnant, so it looked like there was a first time for everything.

“Should have tested that theory a little better before engaging in your breeding kink then, hey,” you replied, picking at your nails. The Doctor practically choked on his tongue, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence.

“Excuse you, Petal,” he argued, “but I am quite certain that you enjoy being bred full of my cum- do you not?”

You split into a cocky grin, knowing he was absolutely right.

“That may be so, but the point remains that I am pregnant, and it’s definitely yours, Doctor.”

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he processed that information. Then, he closed his mouth and split into the widest, most pleased grin you had ever seen from him.

“You’re pregnant,” he all but shouted, hands outstretched in shock. He ran one hand through his hair. ‘You’re pregnant!” He shouted again, this time ending with a disbelieving giggle.

“I am,” you confirmed, the Doctor’s grin infectious.

You both let out a nervous laugh and then the Doctor had you scooped up into his arms and twirled you around. You laughed louder, holding onto him as he lifted you up and back down again.

The Doctor slowed before wrapping you up in a tight hug as if to hold you close and never let you go. You breathed out, feeling content.

Life was looking good. You were going to be parents. To a baby- a hybrid half-human-half-Time Lord baby but still!

“Parents,” the Doctor whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead and echoing your thoughts. “Almost unbelievable, isn’t it?”

You hummed, listening to both of his hearts beat in his chest. They were beating fast, telling you exactly how ecstatic the Doctor was about this news.

“Completely insane,” you agreed with a soft nod. “I can’t wait.”

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #x reader #doctor who imagine #eleventh doctor imagine #doctor who drabble #matt smith #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor x y/n #matt smith doctor #ms doctor #geronimo

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year

Text

BLAME GAME✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. daddy joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi makes a small appearance.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend tries to play a prank on satoru, but he slips up and gets himself in trouble instead... AUTHOR'S NOTE: lol i saw a funny reel of this girl pranking her boyfriend and i got inspired. also used something from the jjk short stories. 😉 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“satoru gojo!” you bellowed from the bedroom.

you heard his feet promptly shuffling to your room as your white-haired boyfriend peaked his head through the bedroom door. you repeated his name again.

“satoru gojo!”

“uh? yeah? that's me...” he stared at you, concerned and confused, walking slowly to the foot of your king sized bed.

“come here.” you said with no emotion in your face, using your index finger to lure him towards you. it took all of you to not burst out laughing in his face. it was amusing to see the soft and bewildered look on his face. he was really such an attentive boyfriend who loved you silly and he was truly worried.

“why are you calling me by my—wait, you never use my government name. we go by babe, baby, sweet cheeks, honey, and sometimes daddy in this household!” he stomped his feet jokingly, trying not to laugh because he couldn’t tell if this was a dangerous situation and if he needed to tread lightly. your lips twitched as you also tried not to laugh either or your cover would be blown.

“satoru, honey.” you said more calmly, but with a hint of danger in your tone. god, you deserved an emmy award for your acting.

satoru was going through all the events that happened today in his head, trying to figure out what he did wrong along the way. “we went shopping today, i made you your morning coffee perfectly may i add, i took out the trash, megumi did the laundry, and i didn't leave my socks around the apartment… so why are you using my government name like that?!”

“what do you think it is?” you questioned him.

“i literally have no clue. you should be having a good sunday so far and i was enjoying my day until you used my full name instead of baby. i haven’t even done anything yet!” satoru defended himself, scratching the back of his head. he was out of back up plans, it was time to resort to an emergency measure. kisses. lots of kisses.

he swiftly made his way over to your side of the bed and sat down next to your side, he grinned at you and tried to sneak a kiss on your cheek but you stopped him just shy of your face. his lips hit your palm instead. “you know what you did.”

“babe, what did i do? just tell me and i promise i’ll make everything right again,” he whispered as he kissed your ear. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you shuddered. he stared at you with piercing azure eyes, his sunglasses sliding down his nose bridge.

“why are you whispering?” you started giggling.

satoru gojo was a smart and calculated man (most days), but today, he was really at a loss. “why are you laughing?” he demanded to know.

“i saw the funniest video of a girl doing this exact thing to her boyfriend and you had the same reaction as him.” you kept giggling after explaining. your bright smile made your green eyes disappear, crows feet wrinkle, and your pearly whites glisten.

as much as satoru could melt by watching you laugh, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “i really thought you were upset with me! you never use my full name unless i’m in trouble with you. i thought my ass was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight for sure. my neck already started to hurt thinking about it.” he dramatized as he massaged the back of his neck, but it wouldn’t be satoru gojo without the theatrics.

“i had to go through all the things in my head that would’ve upset you like not taking out the garbage, leaving my socks around the house, fighting with megumi, not putting down the toilet seat after peeing cause of that one time you fell in, not separating the white and dark laundry colors, or even when the kids and i were at the maid cafe last wee—”

and that’s when satoru gojo saw his life flash before his eyes. he covered his mouth quickly with his free hand, his eyes wide open in terror. you glared into his panicked blue eyes.

“satoru gojo! you went where?! and you took megumi too?!” this time, there was no acting in your tone.

EXTRA:

“come on, megumi, pick up the damn phone. don’t forget that i pay for your phone bill.” satoru gritted through his teeth. he had just received a 20 minute lecture on how megumi and yuji didn’t need to be in a maid cafe and that he didn’t have any business being there either. it was actually an honest accident that they ended up there. the kids followed him into the maid cafe where he was scoping out an abandoned building where some curses were lingering across the street. he wanted to use the building as his afternoon lesson with his students.

“what do you want?” the younger fushiguro picked up, annoyance in his tone of voice.

“well, that’s not a polite way of answering the phone that your guardian pays the cell phone bill for.” satoru quipped.

“it’s always something with you, gojo-sensei,” megumi sighed. 10 years of putting up with satoru gojo did that to people. megumi wondered how you dealt with him. you deserved a nobel peace prize in his eyes.

“well, (y/n) found out about the maid cafe,”

“and you’re in trouble with the boss. cool, i’ll see you at home la—”

“no, no. not just me, we are in trouble.”

“it was your stupid idea to go there! who the hell scopes out an abandoned building at a freakin’ maid cafe?” megumi couldn’t believe that he was being dragged into a punishment too. last time he got in trouble, you took away his kindle that you and satoru had gotten him for christmas last year.

the white haired sorcerer pulled a picture out from his wallet. it was a picture of megumi and yuji from the maid cafe. satoru cunningly suggested a scapegoat, “how do we somehow put the blame on yuji?”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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kaz-oooo · 2 months

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Seen some people talking about Lovejoy and Wilbur Soot’s music and feeling very upset about letting go of those songs since they brought a lot of comfort and joy.

I’m not gonna tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I think it’s ultimately up to you to decide if you want to continue listening to Wilbur’s music or not. What I am gonna do is list some alternative artists that I either think have similar vibes or I know Wilbur / Lovejoy had cited as inspirations so you guys can find some new tunes without stepping too far out of you comfort zone.

(Also feel free to tag on and add your own suggestions as well, the more the merrier)

Lovejoy

Arctic Monkeys — when Wilbur started the band he claimed he wanted to be like the Arctic Monkeys one day. I’ve also described a lot of their later music as being very similar to Arctic Monkeys, so if you like Wake Up and It’s over and Normal People Things then you’d love them

Los Campansino’s — Wilbur has stated before that this is his favourite band so.. very likely big inspiration for his music. Lovejoy did a cover of Knee Deep at ATP, their version is a bit more chill than the original. I’m a big Los Campansino’s fan honestly, but for stuff Lovejoy related I’ve say the albums “Sick Scenes” and “Romance Is Boring” would have the most appeal.

Wet Leg — just a good band that I think has a similar vibe, especially with themes and funky tunes. Also I’ve seen Wilbur list them in his personal playlists before so he enjoys them as well

Good Kid — not a personal favourite of mine, but their songs have similar vibes and they toured with Lovejoy as well so Lovejoy enjoy their music.

James Marriot — (editing Kaz here.. not gonna change the phrasing of this part but I’ve been told James Marriott has unfollowed Wilbur on Twitter) friend of Wilbur’s (do with that information as you will) excellent musician and would heartily recommend his music if you haven’t listened already. Also worked very closely with the band before, especially in the early days so I wouldn’t doubt they’ve influenced each others music quite a bit

MSR and YCGMA

100gecs and other hyperpop artists — admittedly not a genre I listen to a lot, but if you liked Dropshipped Cat Shirt, especially the ending, then you’ll vibe with this genre a lot.

Jack Stauber — Wilbur’s been a longtime fan of his music, it’s a bit weird and silly on a surface level but nice and miserable as well. If you like MSR I’d recommend.

Crywank — helped Wilbur with producing MSR, plus I think Wilbur took some heavy inspiration from them as well. If you like miserable music you’ll love Crywank. (Also Lovejoy did a cover of privately owned, so if you liked that go check out the original)

More Los Campansino’s — ok.. I’m repeating bands now, but I’m recommending different albums this time! “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed” “Hello Sadness” and “No Blues”

Peach Pit — again, not a favourite of mine but they have nice chill vibes and the songs I’ve listened to are just as miserable as these albums.

Beabadoobee — once again, not someone I listen to a lot, but definitely got the same chill acoustic music as YCGMA especially, Lovejoy had done a cover of The Perfect Pair so if you liked that, and you like these albums you’d like beabadoobee.

E-girl Trilogy / comedy music

Bo Burnham — another favourite artist of Wilbur’s, someone else he’s cited as an inspiration and top tier comedy tunes! If you like Wilbur’s sadder music as well you’d definitely enjoy Inside. Otherwise his older music is great and very fun!

Lemon Demon — probably not an inspiration for Wilbur’s comedy music, but he’s definitely listened to it, it’s very fun and silly, also Ranboo highly recommends (as do I)

Other recommendations

Modern Baseball — found this band through Wilbur’s recommendations, they’re very fun and cool. Very Midwest emo, a genre that I think inspired MSR.

The Front Bottoms.. but with a warning — so I’m not super familiar with the story, but from memory a former member abused a fan, they aren’t apart of the band anymore but the current members handled the situation very poorly. This was another favourite band of Wilbur’s and I get why, very emotional and angsty. I find their lyrics hit a bit harder than Modern Baseball’s but they make very similar music.

AJJ — kinda similar to Crywank, another band I found through Wilbur’s recommendation.

Radiohead / the smiths / the cure / the strokes / just 70’s and 80’s alt rock bands — Wilbur definitely enjoys this music and took inspiration here and they’re all very cool and fun. I’m not super familiar with these bands but I know a lot from this time have good old controversies so be mindful of that, but yeahhh good music!

I don’t know how but the found me — alt/indie rock band with very fun tunes! Sits alongside Wilbur’s comedy music and Lovejoy in my playlists a lot of the times so.. if you like those two you’d probably like this band :) also Dallon Weekes deserves all the love in the world, all his former bandmates (Brendon Urie and Ryan Seaman) keep fucking him over.

Cavetown — not sadboy acoustic like YCGMA but very chill and good acoustic tunes nonetheless. Also a bit similar to Beabadoobee so if you like that you’ll like this :) oh also, i know a lot of people liked Lovejoy cos they gave off a lot of aromantic vibes, Cavetown is openly Aro / Ace so.. lots of aro vibes in his music :D

Yotam Perel — Wilbur used his music in the background of his streams, typically the album "Nice Snakes" but he used "A Long List of Short Songs" as well. It's great background music honestly, some songs have entered my top 100 playlists on spotify, but yeah, if you liked the funky tunes in the back of the geoguessr streams, this is what he played

#Wilbur soot #Lovejoy #mammalian sighing reflex #ycgma #E-girl trilogy

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solarsturniolo · 5 months

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Too Damn Long // C.S. pt1

by 💋Natalie💋

summary: chris hasn't jerked off in six weeks and desperately wants to get off

tags: @oversturn @flowerxbunnie @mattsd0ll please reblog and share ☺️🫶🏻

warnings: SMUT / mommy kink / sharing is caring :) / mentions of drugs and smoking / minors dni

DISCLAIMER: these stories are fictional :) I do not actually legitimately think matt and chris would share a partner

text - reader

text - chris sturniolo

text - matt sturniolo

Word Count: 4,318

It had been far too long for Chris’s liking. Six weeks and two days too long, to be exact. Of course he had enjoyed his time on tour with his brothers, he loved getting to travel the country and make all of these wonderful memories with the people he loved the most. The excitement had died down after the first few days, though. Not that he wasn’t enjoying his time or ungrateful for anything at all, he was just tired and missed the comforts of being at home. The car and late night rides with his brothers, his bathroom where he could take showers for as long as he wanted, his bedroom, his bed…he craved it. Being away from home for too long drained him of all of his energy.

Being back home was like a breath of fresh air. But being back in LA after their month and a half of touring didn’t eliminate anything in their busy work schedules. From recording videos, to designing merch, to meetings and sponsorships, the boys continued to stay booked and busy.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Chris looked up from his phone as Matt trudged over to the couch, leaning down to be eye-level with his girlfriend. She looked up from her phone as well, a smile finding its way onto her face when she made eye contact with Matt. “Okay, can you get me a couple things while you’re out?” She asks, earning an eye roll from him in response. His hands rest on the couch on either side of her, his weight being shifted as he leans closer to her and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“So needy. Text me a list,” he tells her. He looks over at his brother for a moment. “You need anything?”

Chris went to speak, but was cut off before he could even start.

“Pepsi, yeah yeah I know. Is there anything you NEED?”

Chris shrugged, leaning back and hooking an arm over the back of the couch as his gaze switched back down to his phone. “If I think of anything I'll let you know.”

Matt rolled his eyes again. A swift smack to his chest and his attention was back on the beauty in front of him. “Be nice,” she warned. “You’ve been at each other's throats all day,” she reminds him in a much more hushed tone.

“This is me being nice-“

“Matt-“

“I’m being for real,” he laughs.

“Matthew Bernard.”

“Okay, fine.”

Chris pretended like he hadn’t heard what she said, he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the smirk that threatened to blow his cover. “Yeah, be nice,” he parroted, his gaze still locked on his phone. Nobody ever said anything about it, but they all knew who wore the pants in that relationship. Matt would crawl on hot coals if she told him to. Chris always teased him and gave him shit about being a simp. He used that facade to hide the fact that he would do the same.

Matt shot Chris a warning look, not in the mood to deal with his childish antics tonight. She rested her fingertips on Matt’s cheek, gently turning his head to face her once again. She leaned toward him, pressing a delicate lingering kiss to his lips. Matt caught himself from falling forward a bit when she pulled away, not wanting the kiss to be over with so soon. His girlfriend smiled at him, a soft laugh escaping her. “Go before you’re late. I’ll text you, and I’ll see you tonight.”

Reluctantly, Matt pushed himself back to an upright position. “Fine. I’ll see you in a bit. I love you,” He states, grabbing his keys and wallet off of the coffee table. His girlfriend repeated the last statement to him, a smile creeping its way onto Matt’s face.

Once Matt had finally left the house, Chris put his phone down on the couch and looked over at the girl sitting only a foot or two away from him. She wouldn’t agree, but Chris always thought she looked the prettiest like this; her messy hair up in a claw clip, loose hairs framing her face in long blonde waves, no makeup besides the sharp black liner that seemed to be almost engraved in her skin by how often she wore it, the comfy clothes she wore around the house when it was clear that she had nowhere to be anytime soon.

And neither of them had anywhere to be anytime soon.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

—————————

Chris wanted to be invested in the movie, he really did. But it was proving to be much more difficult than he thought it would. The smell of her perfume was driving him wild, he wanted nothing more than to just bury his face into her neck and suffocate himself in the sweet velvety scent. How he missed her soft skin against him and her gentle touch, the sound of her voice purring his name when she spoke to him. It had been so long since the last time, too long.

Normally he could control himself and keep his composure, normally he would be the one taking care of her whenever Matt was out of the house. But Chris had needs too, and those needs hadn’t been met in six weeks, two days, and eighteen hours.

The sheer glimpse of her nipples through her shirt had Chris’s heart lodged in his throat. The blood rushed to his cheeks, his face feeling hot. He couldn’t help but stare at her chest as his mind flooded with many thoughts, all of which would grant him a one way ticket to hell.

He scooted closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder. She smiled, wrapping her arm around his shoulders to pull him in closer. Chris obliged, leaning into her and nestling his face into the crook of her neck. Every inhale had him floating in a pool of rose petals and strawberries, he could drown himself in the scent. Her shoulder was cold, and Chris prayed that she couldn’t feel how hot his cheek was against her skin. The bridge of his nose brushed against her neck, his lips ghosting over her soft, pale skin. The blood rushed straight to his cock as he thought about biting and sucking marks all over her, the sounds she might make if he found a particularly sensitive spot.

“What has gotten into you tonight?” She asks, running her fingers delicately through Chris’s hair, her nails gently dragging along his scalp. A shiver ran down his spine, his cock twitched in his pants, he felt his jeans beginning to grow tighter at the crotch. ‘Six weeks and almost three days is what’s gotten into me,’ he thought to himself.

What the fuck do I say? I haven’t jerked off in over a month? I ruined three pairs of boxers in my sleep because of the dreams I had of you? I’d get bricked if I heard you on the phone with Matt? I’d meet hundreds of people and the whole time I would only be thinking about you and how I'd kill to bury myself in you?

Chris opted on keeping his mouth shut and just nudged her with his nose again. He smiled to himself when he heard her laugh, his eyes subconsciously fluttering closed as she continued to play with his hair.

The tightness of his pants began to grow uncomfortable. His face scrunched up at the much too familiar ache, his breathing growing heavier as he did everything in his power to not touch himself right then and there. The sweet temptation of grinding his crotch up into the palm of his hand was taunting his mind, his cock throbbing, begging for any kind of friction. He buried his face deeper, trying so hard to ignore what he was feeling.

“Chris?”

Oh her voice was like honey, and the sound of his name rolling off her tongue made his cock twitch once more. He loved when she said his name. Especially when he had himself buried deep inside of her. Nothing in the world sounded sweeter to him than his name falling blissfully from her lips while balls deep in her.

Oh he missed that. Nothing satisfied him more than his brother’s girlfriend’s tight pussy. Just the thought of her pretty, drooling pussy on display for him made his dick ache. How something could be so slick and so tight at the same time, he had no idea. His cotton boxers became dampened by the precum leaking through the fabric. He spent so many nights dreaming of her thighs hooked over his shoulders, the bridge of his nose buried in her heat. Teasing her, tasting her, pleasing her.

A shaky breath escaped him. Chris brought a hand to his crotch, trying to stay silent as he adjusted himself. His cock stiffened even more at the contact, the friction sending waves of pleasure through him. Unable to stop himself, he began to stroke himself through the fabric of his pants. Slowly, not wanting to get caught. Fuck, how embarrassing would that be? But fuck…it’s been too long and it felt so good.

Chris’s head was clouded with sinful thoughts. The sounds she would make, the way she tasted, the passion, the heat, the excitement. He knew this wasn’t the time to be thinking about those things, it was just so hard not to with her right there. He let out another shaky breath as he continued to touch himself, warmth flooding his body with each pleasurable stroke. His face was flushed with a deep red blush, thank god they had decided to watch the movie with the lights off.

“Ma?”

“Hmm?”

“H-Have I been a good boy t-tonight?”

The question had her at a loss for words. It wasn’t unusual for Chris to act childish around her, everyone always joked that Matt and his girlfriend were practically co-parenting him. But it was rare that he wanted to be called a good boy, never mind refer to himself as that. However, it had been a long day of unpacking, meetings, scheduling, and creating more content for the three of them. He’s gotta be exhausted and probably doesn’t even know what the hell he’s saying.

She continued running her fingers through his soft hair. “Yeah, you’ve been good, Chris.”

He let out a dissatisfied whine, brushing his stubbly cheek against her shoulder. It took everything in him not to bite at her soft pillowy skin. He twitched a little, his dick aching for more. Sweat began to form on his brow, the slow movement of his hand wasn’t enough anymore. He needed more, he needed so much more.

“J-Just wanna be a good b-boy for you,” he confesses. He couldn’t help it, he needed more. He sped up his strokes; not by a lot, but enough to satisfy the uncomfortable ache. Another shaky breath passes his lips. He couldn’t think straight, all he could think about was her and how badly he needed her. “M-Mommy.”

Her eyes widened a bit, her own cheeks becoming flushed and pink. Chris didn’t pull the ‘mommy’ card very often, but it drove her absolutely insane whenever he did. Normally he liked to be in charge, he liked to call the shots, he liked being in control.

That was clearly not the case tonight.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Chris.” She cooed.

The sluttiest of whimpers fell from his lips, though it was muffled against her neck. She smiled to herself when she felt his lips placing soft kisses to her skin. “M-Missed you s-so much.” His voice was unsteady, breaking a little at the end as another whine escaped him.

Her attention was no longer on the movie still playing. How could it be under these circumstances? She looked over, her breath getting caught in her throat when she saw what Chris had been doing. His hand strained, muscles tensed, veins exposed. She watched him for a moment as he fisted at his painfully hard cock through the thick denim of his jeans.

“Aww, did you miss me?” She asked, earning yet another whimper from Chris, his hair tickling her cheek as he buried his face impossibly closer into her neck. “You were gone for a long time, huh?” she continued, dragging her fingertips along his arm.

Chris froze. Fuck, there was no way she didn’t know what he had been doing. A wave of humiliation and embarrassment hit him like a fucking semi truck, and he covered his crotch with his hands as an even deeper blush rose to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry-“ he barely whispered, closing his eyes tightly, begging and praying to any of the gods that he’d wake up and this all would’ve just been some really weird wet dream.

“For?”

His cock jolted at the sound of her voice. God this was just getting worse and worse. He was digging himself a hole and every word or action was just making it harder for him to get out of it. Sorry for borderline beating off in front of you, I went six weeks without touching myself or you and my dick just couldn’t take it anymore.

Her touch left goosebumps along his arm, his breathing became more uneven as she dragged her fingertips all the way down to his hand. “I-I didn’t mean t-to-“

“It’s okay, pretty boy. It’s been a while for you, huh?” She asked, applying some pressure to where he craved it the most. Chris moved his hands, granting her access to whatever she wanted from him. His breath caught in his throat as her fingertips dragged slowly over the length of his aching, throbbing cock. Yet another whimper falling from his lips.

“I asked you a question, Christopher.”

“Y-Yes, been so long,” he whined. A wave of pleasure ran through him as her hand began to stroke him through his jeans. His hips subconsciously lifted to meet her touch, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more anything.

“Did you go all that time without jerking off, Chris?” She asked him, a knowing smirk growing on her face as she continued to tease him. He nodded, unable to form words as she kept touching him. His brain felt cloudy, all he could think about was how good she made him feel and how badly he wanted to feel her around him.

He didn’t have a shred of dignity left. He didn’t care either. He hasn’t felt this desperate to get off since he went through puberty. His balls ached, heavy with arousal. His cock sensitive, any movement made him shiver with pleasure. “P-Please mommy. I’ve been s’ good. P-Please help. It hurts,” he moaned softly, kissing her neck while she toyed with him.

“Do you want me to help you, pretty boy?”

He nodded desperately, grinding his hips up into her hand once more. “Y-Yes, i’ve been so good, mommy. Need it s’ bad,'' he whined, nipping at her soft skin.

She removed her hand from his crotch and Chris lifted his head out of the crook of her neck, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did I do something wrong? Fuck, is she not into the mommy thing? Fuck, what did i do-

“Take your pants off, sweet boy. Let mommy take care of you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands shook as he struggled with his belt, huffing a little in irritation that his belt was choosing NOW to be a pain in the ass. “F-Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Easy, tiger.”

Her soft hands rested on his, steadying him. She helped him with his belt, and once it was undone he finished unbuttoning his jeans, lifting his hips up to push them down to his knees. He leaned back against the couch, sighing in relief. His cock, now only restrained by his soft cotton boxers, pressing up against the fabric, begging to be let out. He whimpered when he felt her hand on his crotch again, hissing in a sharp inhale when he felt her thumb massaging his clothed tip.

“Poor baby. Were you gonna wait until I realized you needed help? Or were you gonna ruin your boxers right here?” She purred, feeling the wet stain of his arousal. He let out a soft moan, her words making him lose all sense of his surroundings, his brain clouded with pleasure. She let out a quiet chuckle, removing her hand from him once more. “This isn’t gonna work if you don’t use your words, Chris.”

“F-Fuck, please ‘m sorry,” he looked over at her, his eyes full of desperation. His lip quivered as her fingers ran along his thigh. His cock twitched as her knuckles grazed his crotch, his jaw going slack as he let his eyes flutter closed. “D-Didn’t wanna bug ya, Ma. I-I’m sorry, sh-should’ve been more quiet,” he confessed.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m happy to take care of you,” She whispered, pressing delicate kisses to his face. “Don’t hide from me, tell me what you want.”

“A-Anything,” he replied, his voice wavering a little as her hand inched closer to his crotch. He pursed his lips, choking back another whine. His head fell back against the back of the couch. He looked over beside him, admiring the woman next to him. “P-Please, do whatever you want, I need it so bad, mommy,” he breathed out, their eyes locking as he spoke. “Saved it all for you, mommy. It was so hard b-but i wanted t-to be a good boy for you,” he whispered, a surprised moan interrupting him as he felt her hand beginning to stroke him through his boxers once more. “F-Fuck.”

She smiled, watching the way his face scrunched up as she gave him the friction he was begging for. She leaned closer to him, still pleasing him as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Oh Chris, you’re such a good boy for mommy, hmm?” She purred, to which he replied back with a whimper, the word ‘please’ incessantly falling from his lips. She chuckled, kissing his cheek again. “So polite. How can I say no to that?”

“C-Can I kiss you?”

She laughed softly at his question. He knew he didn’t have to ask in moments like this, but he always did anyway. Although he loved the time he got to have with her, she wasn’t his and he knew that. The guilt would eat him alive if he did anything during these moments to make her uncomfortable.

“You know you don’t have t-“

“Please?”

Her free hand gently touched his cheek and he looked up at her, his eyes full of dumb bliss and desperation. She leaned in, her nose gently brushing against Chris’s, her lips ghosting over his. “You wanna kiss me, pretty boy?” She whispered, lips brushing ever so delicately against his as she spoke.

“God yes,” he replied. “Havent k-kissed you in s’ long.”

“I know, baby. It’s been too long,” she agreed, though she still didn’t kiss him. She traced his bottom lip with her thumb, her other hand still massaging his stiff aching cock.

“Fuck, I-I’m fuckin’ begging you,” he panted softly, his hot breath fanning against her skin. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple. “Please, I miss your lips, m-mommy.”

That was enough for her to close the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. Chris wanted to be good, he wanted to let her have control, but it had been too fucking long and he was desperate to be as close to her as possible. He kissed her back hungrily, his cock twitching at the sound she made. Something mixed between a whimper and a gasp. It drove him absolutely fucking crazy and he was dying to hear it again. Chris let his hands rest on her thighs, slowly trailing up to her waist.

She was surprised by his sudden confidence. She always loved whenever Chris took control. But tonight was different, and he needed to be fully aware of that. Just as his hands had made it up to her breasts, she pulled her hand away from his crotch, a frustrated whine escaping him. She brought her hand up to his neck, wrapping her fingers around his throat. His cock jolted, Chris could feel the precum drooling onto his pelvis. He panted as she pulled away from the kiss, her lips ever so lightly brushing against his. She was so close but so far at the same time, and every time he attempted to close that gap between them again, she pulled away further. “Tsk tsk, what happened to being mommy’s good boy, hmm?”

He gulped, heavy uneven breaths being all he could get out for a solid twenty seconds. “F-Fuck, ‘m sorry Ma, i just got carried away,” he panted. “J-Jus’ missed your lips s’ much.”

“Naughty boys don’t get rewards, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, p-please,” he choked out, eyes glossing over as the ache began to grow unbearable. “Please ‘m sorry, Ma. I-I’ve been so good, d-didn't touch m-myself all that time. I-I just got excited, ‘m sorry. F-Fuck, please d-dont stop. I’ll be a good boy, I'll be good-“ he rambled on, pleas continuing to spill from his lips, desperate for her to do anything. Her hand around his neck tightened, just the tiniest bit, and Chris let out possibly the filthiest sound she had ever heard from him.

She smiled. She was in control again. She hooked her leg over his lap, straddling his waist, hovering over him. “You like when mommy does that, hmm?” she cooed, earning a whimper from him in response.

He couldn’t focus on a damn thing. When she straddled him his cock throbbed, and he prayed that she would sink just a little lower, just so he could feel her on his lap. Just so he could feel her roll her hips against his. Just so he could feel the outline of her pussy through the thin fabric of the plaid pajama bottoms rubbing against his aching erection. He spent so many nights thinking about her on top of him, missing the feeling of burying himself deep in her tight, wet cunt. Nothing could satisfy him anymore, only her.

“God i’m fuckin begging ya, ma. I’ll do anything, p-please just- fuck,” he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as she tightened her grip around his neck once more, his brain feeling foggy, his face growing hotter. “Anything you want, mommy. P-Please, I’ll be a good boy. Your good boy. J-Just wanna be good for you, mommy. I-I-I wanna be good.”

“Oh but you are, sweet boy,” she purred in his ear, watching in amusement as he shivered at her words. She lowered her hips, seating herself onto his lap. His breath hitched, trembling hands grasping her waist. She bit her lip, he was painfully hard. Even through the fabric between them, she could feel the throbbing. His hips lifted to meet hers, desperate for more. “You really missed me huh?” She hummed.

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Give me an idea then,” she tested.

“Couldn’t get you outta my fuckin’ head, Mama.” He whispered, opening his eyes to look up at her. “Missed you so much. Your pretty face ‘n your sweet lips. You’re beautiful tits ‘n how you look when I play with your nips when you’re all stoned ‘n fucked out,” he spoke, his voice raspy, his accent growing thicker with each confession. “Couldn’t get your pretty pussy outta my head all fucking month. Every fuckin’ day, all day-“ he was cut off by her hips rolling against his yet again, pleasure running through him.

“So hard for me already, I’ve barely even touched you,” she teased, grinding against him yet again.

He felt that all too familiar feeling in his stomach, his hands holding her still on his lap. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum if y-you keep going,” he mumbled, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“Isn’t that what you want, sweet boy?”

He hummed, pursing his lips. His eyes were hooded as he looked at the beautiful girl on top of him. “S-So bad,” he nodded.

“Let me take care of you then, baby.”

“Wanna…last…” he breathed out, head falling back again as she rolled her hips against his. His hips bucked up, the unexpected reaction causing her to let out a high whimper. “D-Don’t want it t’ be over yet,” he continued, though that was proving to be difficult as he could feel his orgasm inching closer and closer.

Chris felt her move closer to him, his face heating up even more as she pressed kisses to his cheek, eventually her lips ghosting over his ear. She was so close, her perfume swirled around him, his brain getting clouded with the scent. “Oh we’re not even close to being finished, pretty boy,” she giggled, dragging her hands slowly down Chris’s chest. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

He choked out a soft cry, warmth flooding his body. He brought his hand down to his crotch, stroking himself through his boxers to ride himself through his orgasm. His lips parted, soft pants escaping him. “F-Fuck, mommy,” he whined, a high pitched moan following his words as he reached his high. His hips subconsciously bucked up, his load shooting into the fabric of his boxers, his lower abdomen slick with his cum.

She continued pressing gentle kisses to his face. “That’s it, such a good boy. You earned this, pretty boy. You did so good for me,” she praised him, talking him through his first orgasm of the evening. She trailed kisses down to his lips, smiling to herself as he tried to catch his breath. “That’s it, baby. Let mommy take care of you tonight.”

--------------------------------

a/n: alrighty, here I go re-uploading! It probably won't receive as much attention as it did on the sturnioloskies account, so reblogging will really help :) thanks so much for all of the support I love every one of you

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #smut #gnawing at the bars of my enclosure #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism

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belovedmusings · 1 month

Text

Take me down slow, control, and abuse me.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part eight of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he just woke you up in the middle of the night after he heard you having a certain dream about his bandmate, Suguru. This is the subsequent conversation.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, cowgirl, riding, nipple play (fem receiving), oral sex (male receiving), soft and tender sex, love bites, creampie

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Use Me (PLAZA), I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys), fue mejor (Kali Uchis, SZA)

A/N: Enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

His eyes are locked on yours. There’s no vindication—just confusion. You can’t lie to him. It hurts too much to even think about telling this precious man you love an untruth.

“Choso,” You begin, slicing through the tension-thick air. There’s a lump already forming in your throat, and you brace yourself to lose the man you love. “I…I need to be honest with you.”

Worry instantly etches into his features. “…all right.”

“When I said I just thought he was good-looking, that…that wasn’t the entire truth. I…ever since we met him, I-I’ve been attracted to him but I-I…I love you so much, the guilt is eating me alive.”

It all comes out in a rush, the truth of your feelings, and it takes him a moment to catch up with you to process your words.

He digests the initial part first. “Ever…since we met him? You mean, at my audition?”

You nod shamefully. It’s begun–and you decide now is the best time to just get it all out. There’s no way he’s going to accept everything you’ve done, because you know you wouldn’t, but you just can’t keep hiding things from him. This is the man you love, and what is love without honesty?

After you start, it just pours out of you.

Everything that has happened. Initiating sex in the car after you left his house because he’d turned you on, listening to his voice on repeat through the band’s songs, the fantasizing, the stolen moments that happened in Suguru’s kitchen, then backstage at their concert, then three times again that same night, once at the bar, then in the car, then in your living room after Choso had been carried to bed, then two months later when you brought him back to talk after running into him at the grocery store. All of the forbidden touches, the heated words, the almost-kisses–you spill it all. He deserves to know. He’s too good of a person to be with someone as horrible as you.

By the time you finish, the two of you had sat up in bed, a bedside lamp on to illuminate the room. Sleep is lost on you both now.

For a while, he just sits there in silence, eyes trained on the foot of the bed. It feels stuffy yet cold, and you wonder if you’ve stopped breathing at some point, waiting for his response. You’re not even sure what you expect. How can anyone possibly react to something like what you just told him?

Your heart drops through you at the first sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear that he’s hurting.

What have you done? You were given the most precious boyfriend in the world and you’ve screwed it up by being selfish and undisciplined?

He parts his lips, searching for the words. They only come after another beat of silence.

“...all of that…” He begins in a gravelly voice, one you know he uses when he’s holding back his emotions, “and…all I can think about is…I’m in the way of you and him, aren’t I?”

You had no idea what you expected, but that reaction is ten-thousand times worse than anything you could’ve conjured up in your head.

“No,” Your own voice shakes, you’re hurt because you hurt Choso, “You’re not…you’re not in the way, you’re my boyfriend. I love you.”

“But you want him,” He replies, voice strained. His eyes are still averted from you. “And he wants you. Not just a little, either.”

What argument can you make? You just have to speak from the heart. “Choso, I swear to god, I love you and Suguru hasn’t affected the way I feel about you in the slightest.”

“But I’m not your only option,” He says, monotony terribly forced as more tears stream down his cheeks. “And your other option is Suguru. The guy who is everything I am and more.”

You wonder if the crack you just felt in your heart was audible. “What?”

“He can give you the things I can…and the things I can’t.”

You need to fix this now.

“You’re the man I love,” You say, “Choso, what we have is so special, and–”

“I want what’s best for you,” Choso interrupts you, finally meeting your eyes. They’re glassy and weighted. “I just want you to be happy. He can make you happy.”

“No,” You instantly say, “No, loving you is what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to leave you, Choso. I don’t.”

“If you’re happy with me, then why…why do you want Suguru that badly?”

The full truth. What has exactly cemented itself within your soul–you need to bear it to him now.

“Choso,” You begin, taking his hands and locked eyes with him. “I need you to believe me when I say that I have never ever second-guessed my feelings for you. I know that I am in love with you, and every single moment with you is a blessing that I will forever be grateful for. It’s just that…since I met Suguru, I’ve begun imagining what it would be like with him. Also, not instead. I want you in my life, I want you loving me, I want you to be my boyfriend now and forever, and more if that’s what comes with our future. But I…honestly, I want Suguru there too.”

Choso looks perplexed for a moment, eyes flitting between yours as he once again absorbs all of your words. “...you want him…too?”

Your next nod is earnest yet careful. “Yes. I know it’s ridiculous, selfish, and impossible, but I love and cherish you so much…and I want Suguru. I could never be without you, Chos’, and I sure as hell could never ever replace you with him. I don’t even know if Suguru and I are actually compatible and would go anywhere. Please, believe me.”

He draws in a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this, and with me,” You add, “And I understand if you want me gone, I know even thinking that is horrible, and I am the worst person on Earth for hurting you.”

“I don’t want you gone,” He immediately says, surprising you thoroughly.

“What? But I’m…I’m pretty sure all of this qualifies me as some sort of heartless…whore.”

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head vehemently. “You are not a whore. Do you go out every time I’m gone and sleep with random men you meet? Do you message more online? Do you send them pictures?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“You’re not a whore,” He says again, sighing heavily. “It’s…this is Suguru we’re talking about. Just Suguru. And this has gone on since we met him, for what…the better half of a year now? More than that? You haven’t even kissed him, let alone slept with him. You just…you just have a lot of affection to give.”

You look down at your lap. “It’s probably just physical, anyway…”

“You said you told him you wanted more, though, after he said that’s what he wants,” Choso points out. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”

“No, I-I mean, I’ve barely been around him. Who’s to say it isn’t just lust?” You feel like you’re backtracking, but also like maybe you’re telling the truth. You don’t know anymore. “Maybe I was just caught up in it all when he said it. We could end up not liking each other at all if we really got to know each other…”

After you trail off, no words fill the space between you two for another few moments.

“So,” he exhales, “You want him…too. In what sense?”

“Well,” You begin unsurely. “I…don’t know.”

“Do you think if you slept with him, your curiosity would go away?”

There’s a seriousness that hangs in the air, one that you can’t help but feel is unwelcome.

“What?”

“I just…don’t see another solution to this. Because I love the band, and Suguru made it clear he wants me to stay. That means that at some point, you two are going to have to be around each other. If you…end up alone, it could mean you two just give in, and none of us want that. Suguru doesn’t want to go behind my back, you don’t want to cheat on me, and I don’t want either of you to betray me.”

“But I still don’t see how the correct solution is for me to sleep with him,” You reply rather bluntly, bewildered.

“Because then I’d know about it,” Choso explains. “I mean, listen…I don’t like the idea of the woman I love sleeping with another man, but this isn’t just some guy, it’s Suguru. I know he’s a good man. I know he respects me. So if I…allowed you to…see what he’s all about, then no one would be lying to anyone. There would be no problem.”

Your eyes narrow. Is your boyfriend seriously suggesting you sleep with Suguru?

“But…what about your feelings? I’d still be…getting intimate with another man. Wouldn’t that bother you?” You question him, running a hand through your hair.

“It’s not bothering me as much as it should,” He admits, “Because…all this time, all those moments, and neither of you said ‘forget about him’ and did it behind my back. Yes, you two have gotten close, but you’ve stopped yourselves. So…I know you both care about me. It sounds so strange coming from me, but…I’d let you do it, love.”

All you can do is draw in a deep breath. What is he even saying?

He’s seriously giving you the go-ahead? To sleep with Suguru?

“All I ask is…for you to agree to a few things,” Choso adds, “You’d use protection…and…don’t kiss him.”

Don’t kiss him.

A flash of Suguru’s lip rings comes to mind like the shutter of a camera, and you steel yourself. No kissing him. Something you’d fantasized about for the longest time…barred.

But he’s letting you sleep with Suguru.

So what if you can’t kiss him?

“Okay,” You nod, then you hear yourself, and you shake your head, “W-wait, no, Choso, I can’t do this to you. You can’t be okay with this!”

“But I am,” He insists, reaching up and touching your face. There is only a gentleness in his eyes, no hint of anger or animosity towards you in them. “I love you, and I want to give you the world. If I can give you this by simply allowing you, I will.”

“But it’s sex,” You argue, “For crying out loud, Choso, how can you be okay with this? I’d never be okay if you wanted to sleep with another woman!”

“That’s okay,” He assures you, “It is sex, and to the two of us it means something different. For me, it’s exclusive. For you, it's an expression. I don’t like sleeping with anyone I’m not in love with, but for you, it’s more about who you find attractive. I trust you. I know you’ll never leave me, you’ve made that clear. If, throughout this entire thing, you’ve fantasized about Suguru yet never resented me or started finding faults in me, wishing I was him…I know you love me.”

“I do,” is what you reply with immediately. “I love you so much, Chos’.”

“See? I trust you,” He repeats. “If you wanted to cheat you’d have done so by now.”

For a while, you just remain silent.

Is he really giving you a pass? To have sex with Suguru? Just like that?

“Will you look at me differently? And him?” You ask, searching his eyes with yours.

“You’re always going to be the woman I love,” Choso shakes his head. “And he’s always going to be Suguru.”

“What about when we’re all together? When you’re in the same room as me and him? Will you be able to take it?”

Choso consider your words for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I will. Things will probably be less tense now that it’s out in the open, don’t you think?”

“…well, possibly, yes.”

There is about a full minute of absolutely no sound in the room. You don’t know what to say. You weren’t expecting a full fight, because you know that’s not what Choso is about, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting this either. How are you supposed to react?

Choso has given you his permission to sleep with Suguru. You can actually do what you’ve been wanting to do–well, mostly–and more than anything, right now you’re just feeling…weird.

“Chos’, I…I don’t know what to say…”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. We’ve talked it over and said everything we need to say.”

Well, he’s right. You’ve asked about his feelings, about his reaction, he knows the dirty details of your thoughts…and this is the end result. The boyfriend you have been in love with since before this entire mess has started still loves you even after everything you’ve considered doing, and everything you’ve done, and what’s more is that he is green-lighting even more that you never thought he’d be okay with.

Your eyes happen upon him, and you really take him in. The way his layered hair falls in messy strands around his face, the soft droop of his chocolate eyes, smeared with his trademark purple eyeliner. You follow the shape of his jaw, the curve of his Adam’s apple down to his neck, further to the collar of his shirt, where you remember he has that tattoo of your name on his heart. More than ever now, you understand that he’d gotten that done with utmost sincerity. So much emotion sweeps over you in a tidal wave–you love your boyfriend so much, and you’re sorry he’s even in this position, whether he’s okay with it or not.

There isn’t much time between after you’ve had that thought and when you climb into his lap, kissing him in a way that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling for him at the moment.

Choso responds eagerly, and soon layers come off, the black ink of your name etched into his breast on full display. It’s a lot of touching and grinding–you try to knead your affection into him with your hands and the way you move your hips on his, feeling him getting hard beneath you, your lips reaching any expanse of skin of his that they can reach.

You kiss down his frame, paying special attention to the delicate part of his neck where it meets his shoulder and leaving a mark there. It’s easy to elicit noises from him, soft and breathy in nature, and you keep going, leaving a path of claims as you devour his body slowly.

Soon, you wind up between his legs, face beside his stiff length, but before you pay it any mind, you give attention to his thighs, a place you know is particularly sensitive. That’s when the sounds leaving his lips become more pronounced, abdomen rising and falling with each new mark you bite into the flesh there.

By the time you take him into your mouth, his cock is maroon-hard and weeping, the bitterness mixing with the flavor of his musk. The both of you moan at the same time, and his hands thread into your hair, gently holding it back as you suck, rising and sinking down on him over and over in the way you know drives him mad. His noises string together, strained groans and soft whimpers mixing to create a beautiful enough symphony that even that itself is music he creates. His thumbs caress your cheeks and you feel his eyes admiring you as you suck him off, a rosy blush spreading over your face.

When he’s good and soaked, and when he’s near his peak, twitching on your tongue with the threat of release, you pull off, looking up at him.

His eyebrows are drawn up, hair messily splayed across his pillow from his writhing, a crimson over the bridge of his nose. He’s panting, chest rising and falling rigidly, deep exhales painting the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” You tell him breathlessly, climbing back up his now mark-ridden body, straddling his hips with your legs. You take him into your hand and guide him towards your heat, allowing it inside as you seat yourself down.

“Oh, fuck,” He grunts, hands finding your waist instinctively. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, having been edged already, and you know it won’t take him long to reach his peak.

He knows this, and so when you start rolling your hips, keeping him fully inside, he begins roaming his palms over your skin, doing his best to bring you to the edge as well. The two of you move in a way that can only be disguised as a sensual, intimate dance. His hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then running a palm down your front until he finds your clit. He starts rubbing it to the tempo of your movements, and little gasps leave your mouth, spurring on more impassioned grinds from you.

You look down at him, staring up at you with reverent, lidded eyes, and you know that no matter what you do with Suguru, it can never replace what you have with Choso.

“I love you,” You murmur, leaning down and initiating a hungry kiss.

He returns it with fervor, speaking into your wet cavern with a reciprocal, “I love you,” before chasing it down with his tongue. He starts meeting your movements with his own, intensity increasing until soon he’s moaning down your throat and cumming deep inside, your own orgasm rippling through you at the same time.

He holds you close and you don’t stop showering him with your love, intent on making sure he knows how much he means to you.

What comes next can wait until tomorrow.

a/n: you get to have your cake and eat it too in this universe, mmm hmm, mm hmm. now...what will happen next?

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings , @makingtimemine , @tr330 , @captainstarnoir , @nana-lover05 , @vvarkiki , @missmuffinr

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 11 months

Note

Here's something that's been cooking in my head for a while. So there's a lot of fics where Marc and the reader will have a argument and then Marc will sort of shut out and just leave Steven and Jake to be out as a means to avoid reader, and some have it that while that's happening Steven and Jake then just spoil reader with affection and stuff and then there's some point where Marc just comes out and they talk it out. But hear me out on this one and even feel free to run and do your own things with it-

So let's say that that's a common scenario that happens and that Marc and reader are arguing about something and at some point things boil over a little and they do a whole "Fine! "Fine!" sort of thing. Reader walks away to cool off and maybe go back to the issue later when both of them are more calm but then Marc goes "I guess this is the part where you sit somewhere and wait for Steven and Jake to spoil you rotten!".

And now there's an even bigger problem because now Marc is bringing Steven and Jake into this and that pisses them off and there's a whole argument between them because Jake and Steven are saying that they wouldn't have to if Marc would just man up and not turn every issue brought up into an argument. And Marc is saying that it wouldn't be such a big deal if they just let him sulk and solve it himself without them swooping in and overhearing/seeing them basically fawning over reader. And reader is even more upset because it's somewhat true but because you're still made they want to prove him wrong.

You can continue from here or just leave it. Just thought you'd like to hear it at least

Thank you so much for this ask! It has been fermenting in my mind for days now. I hope I've done it justice ❤️

Spoiled Rotten

Marc Spector X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: arguements (subject matter is not specified), hurt and comfort (heavy on the comfort), typos, rail road sentences Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1496

_______________________________________

“No that’s not what I said, you’re not listen-”

“You’re just repeating what you said over and ov-”

“I wouldn’t have to repeat it if you would just li-”

“It’s not even relevant to this, you’re changing the sub-”

“I’m changing the subject? What do you think you’re doi-”

“Stop talking over me!”

You both glare at each other, rage boiling over like an overfilled pan.

Your breathing hard, your lips forced together, just waiting for him to say something so you can both go at each other again.

You could strangle him, the way he sneered a little as he spoke, that little mocking tone he used specifically for you, the fact that he would never, ever, ever back down.

Your breathing calmed a little as he stayed quiet, good. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, a few rouge curls had escaped his carefully slicked back hair, breaking his illusion of being oh-so perfect.

Oh, I’m Marc Spector and I never do anything wrong.

You loved him, of course you did, and if anyone ever laid a finger on him you’d gouge their eyes out, but good god if that man didn’t know how to get perfectly under your skin.

He stayed quiet, scowling at you.

With a deep breath you looked away from him and walked into the kitchen. There was no reason to stay in his presence if he was going to be like this, trying to bait you into talking first like a child. (As if you hadn’t been trying to do the exact same thing to him.)

You thought about making a comment, saying something like ‘oh, the silent treatment, Marc? Real original.’ But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And you knew how childish it would sound.

You stopped in front of the kitchen counter and sighed. Cliché as it was, you couldn’t remember what you had first started arguing about. Or why it even mattered.

Maybe if you just took a few minutes to cool off and-

Marc’s distinct footsteps sounded as he came into the kitchen. “So, I guess this is the part where you sit somewhere and wait for Steven and Jake to spoil you rotten!" His voice was somewhere between normal and shouting, raising in volume even more at the end.

He had been trying, and promptly failed, to sound collected.

You turned, anger rising in your chest and throat, “what?”

“It’s always the same-”

“It is not always the same-”

“We have an argument, you go off and sulk and then,”

“I sulk?” You gestured to yourself, “I’m the one that goes off and sulks?”

“And, then, Steven or Jake front and it’s all ‘oh what has that horrible Marc done to you now.’” His eyes flicked to the side the second the words left his mouth, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching hard.

You recognised the movement instantly. Steven or Jake, or possibly both, were saying something.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “That’s not what happens.”

He glances back to you, the smallest twitch is his forehead telling you that Steven and Jake must still be talking. “Liar.”

You clamp your teeth shut, trying to stop yourself from saying something you know you’ll regret.

He was right though, and you hated it. Why did this insufferable man always have to be right?

You and Marc argued the most.

Jake didn’t shout, he didn’t like that kind of confrontation. He would go quiet and listen to you when you were angry. For anyone else his silence would have made it worse, but there was something about his expression. How he just folded back, bleeding emotion out of himself until he seemed monochrome against your rage. It never failed to refuse you. You’d both end up talking calmly about your disagreements.

Steven was the king of sarcasm, and passive aggression when he wanted to be. But when an argument with you was getting too far he would just call a timeout and let you both go your separate ways to calm down.

On the whole, very rarely did any of you argue, and when you did it was usually about something silly.

And as you’d been together longer, disagreements with Jake and Steven had lessened to almost nonexistence. While arguments with Marc had stayed the same.

It always followed a similar pattern: you and Marc would shout at each other and then Jake or Steven or both would come and make it better with hugs and kisses and soft words.

“Well it’s not going to happen this time.” Marc snarled.

You looked back at him, realising you had been lost in your thoughts.

“You're stuck with horrible me.”

He was goading you, trying to get you to shout at him again. Needing you to yell, to express your anger. He could deal with that, could fight against it.

You stayed quiet.

“Gonna give me the silent treatment? Because I’m not good enough for you? That’s real original.”

You almost laughed then, but just managed to stop yourself. There was no way that could help in this situation. Your shoulders slumped slightly. The problem was, you were both too similar.

“Sit down.” You spoke softly, and gestured to the kitchen table before walking over to the coffee machine. Marc was the only one who really used it for the fancy milky coffees he still pretended he didn’t adore.

“What?” He snapped, watching you move. He took a step towards you, his hands flexing in irritation as he saw you switch the coffee machine on.

You turned fully to look at him, “sit down,” your voice sounded calm and kind, even though you were still fighting with your own exasperation inside. “Or stand, whatever you want.”

You expected him to snap back with another dig. But to your surprise he swallowed, a small bob of his throat, and sat down on the chair closest to you.

He didn’t take his eyes off you while you made a coffee, the crease in his forehead deepening as he assumed you were going to drink it right in front of him.

Instead you heard the little breath he exhaled when you placed the cup on the table directly to his right.

Marc stared at it for a second, dumbfounded. He was so caught up in staring at the coffee that he didn’t hear you step back and open the cupboard, only realising that time had passed when you set a small plate with choco leibniz milk biscuits in front of him.

“Those are Jake’s.” He whispered.

“I bought them for everyone.” You leave out, ‘except Steven’ as that was a given due to the milk.

The biscuits were, however, a favourite of Jakes. And he did have a tendency to eat them all before anyone else got a chance.

Marc pressed his lips together into a tight line.

You didn’t want for him to say anything else as you walked into the living room and turned on the television. You spend a few minutes searching through the listings until you found something that matched your criteria. Marc had a soft spot for westerns.

You clicked on The Searchers and pressed play before grabbing the heavy, fluffy blanket out of the airing cupboard and laying it out on the settee.

When you came back into the kitchen Marc was chewing on a biscuit. He looked up at you as you entered and for a moment seemed much younger than his years.

“Come on,” you spoke softly, lifting the plate and cup from the table.

Marc didn’t question you and followed you into the living room one step behind.

You gestured to the settee after you put the biscuits and coffee on the table, raising the blanket for Marc to sit. He did, slowly, as if he was waiting for something awful to jump out at him.

You sat next to him, pulling the blanket over you both. You left a ‘sensible’ space between you. Not wanting to be too far or too close, and upsetting him with the extreme.

He stared at you, not even glancing at the television. “What are you doing?” He whispered. His expression was nervous, pained, and it chased away the residual anger in your chest.

“Spoiling you rotten.” You said quietly, The Searchers opening music nearly drowning your words out.

Slowly, you lifted your arm to the back of the settee, leaving an open invitation for physical touch.

To your surprise he moved instantly, burying himself into your side and laying his head against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight.

You smiled and kissed the top of his head as you hugged him back.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your chest, his breath hot against your skin.

“Me too.” You kissed his head again as you both relaxed into each other's embrace and settled down to watch the film.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

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#marc spector #moon knight #moon knight mcu #marc spector x reader #x reader #marc spector x you #x you #marc spector x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #marc spector x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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archived-daydreams · 1 year

Text

— Move your body, darling.

Summary: You’ve started working out, and your boyfriend encourages you.

Characters: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader.

Word count: 3.2k.

Tags: fluff, slight crack, suggestive (allusions at doing the deed in Kaeya’s but nothing ex.plicit), soft and supportive boyfriends.

Author’s note: A little something for my dearest @bunny-rambles <3 I hope you like it, love !

Reblog to support your favorite authors ! It helps more than likes.

SCARAMOUCHE

Pretends he doesn’t care, letting slip some comments about how “foolish humans are to believe they can get stronger like that”.

In reality, he’s probably one of the most (if not the most) supportive of this bunch.

Need anything afterwards? He’ll bring it to you, no matter how much he grumbles. And no, don’t try to stop him, because “you are clearly not in the right conditions to do it yourself”. His words not mine, by the way.

Did you drink enough water? Or fruit juice? Or something cold after your work out? You better, he “threatens”, but honestly, he’s happy to prepare it for you (even if he pouts like a grumpy cat).

The afternoon sun is scorching as you keep count of the times you’ve folded and unfolded your legs.

Up, and down, up and down, and up, and down again. Pause. Repeat.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but the idea of getting into shape and strengthening your body crossed your mind a few days ago.

Was it to be able to beat your boyfriend for once in sparring?

That would be unrealistic, thinking on it, considering how he went to godhood and back, and was reborn from his own fall from grace.

Pehaps it was to actually prove to him, that no, not all humans are so ephemeral and frail as he deems them to be.

Yes, that definitely makes more sense.

And maybe, somewhere inside of you, you just want to be a little stronger, because as attractive as Scaramouche looks obliterating enemies, you know how heavy your hypothetic hurt and loss hang over him.

So, with that thought spurring you on, you get back to your workout, some of the energy you’re expending slightly recovered with this re-discovered motivation.

Unaware to you, a pair of vibrant violet eyes have been watching you for a while. The smile painted on his porcelain-like features speaking the words his eyes conceal behind the curtain of dusk that is his hair.

Leaning against the wall and with arms crossed over his chest, the wanderer decides he can indulge for a little longer in the sight of you.

That is, until a familiar child-like voice interrupts him.

“Oh, so they are the one you cherish!”

His cheeks dye in the color of Zaytun peaches at that statement, his figure leaning off the wall in a flurry.

“Shhh, Lesser Lord Kusanali, please not now!” He whisper-shouts.

Nahida gives him a closed eyed smile, as if she hadn’t completely gotten through his practiced haughty facade.

Then, her inquisitive viridian eyes flit to you and to the ex-harbinger again.

“You know, it’s okay to show them your support. They’ll appreciate it, I’m sure!” She encourages him. “It’s the same as when you cultivate flowers.” She gestures with her small hands. “No colorful petal can truly bloom without love, in the same way no fruit will ripen without sun or water.”

And Scaramouche isn’t sure if it’s because of his mentor’s wise words, or because you look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration; but next thing he knows, he’s walking towards you with a bottle of Harra fruit juice in hand.

“When will you learn to take care?” Your wanderer scolds, at the same time his cheeks mirror the warm rays of the low sun in the horizon.

ALBEDO

Oh, he’s smooth. Like, he doesn’t even have to try to make you flustered.

And the best thing is, sometimes (when he wants to, that is) he looks innocent while at it, because he truly cares and means well.

Rest assured, once you either tell him you want to exercise or he finds out, the chief alchemist is getting his hands on every fitness book he can find.

Albedo will come up with a full training program tailored to your needs and goals in a matter of a few hours.

He’s very supportive and reassuring but please, don’t let him get ideas for his experiments, unless you want to receive (affectionate or not so affectionate) complaints from a certain blond traveler, namely, his frequent test subject.

“Fascinating,” Your lover muses, a huge manual on physiology of the human body held in between his hands. “According to this study, Dragonspine reunites all the ideal conditions to make your training more demanding, which will result in it being all the more effective…”

You can’t help but let out a giggle at how immersed into this Albedo seems to be. Sure, you did mention to him you’d like to do some physical conditioning to perform more efficiently in combat, but you didn’t intend to be subjected to a rigorous training program.

“Bedo, dear.” You begin, sitting across from him. “You don’t need to plan such a complicated schedule.” Your hand finds his over the table.

His skin is cold to the touch, yet it is not an unpleasant sensation. It always reminded you of the morning dew over the Cecilias at Snarsnatch Cliff.

Rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand you continue. “I just want to exercise a little bit more than what my usual commissions require, nothing too harsh.” You finish, softly, a tender smile etched on those lips that have warmed Albedo’s cold nights many a time.

“I know that, dearest.” He says, his fingers slotting in between yours. They always fitted perfectly, as if your hands entwined were the last two puzzles pieces containing the mysteries of this world the Chalk Prince yearns to solve.

“But, the cold climate and altitude here will make your daily commissions feel like a walk in the park.” He continues, his free hand dangerously traveling to your waist and down, and down, until it stops at the small of your back. “Wouldn’t you agree, my love?” Albedo questions, that devious smirk you can’t resist appearing on his face like fresh pink strokes of watercolor.

“Oh?” You return his grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, playing with the tips of his icy blond hair. “Is that really it?” You tease, your fingertips grazing the star shaped mark on his neck. “Or is my prince eager to spend more time with me?”

“I won’t lie to you.” The alchemist answers, those cerulean eyes of his gleaming mischievously, akin to late stars in the dawn, before leaning in to close the distance between your lips.

You guess this might as well count as a workout session, with how wildly your heart is beating.

XIAO

Sweet baby Xiao, who is probably going to need more reassurance than you.

Why are you suddenly putting your body through such efforts? Are you going to leave him? Is he no longer useful enough to protect you?

Please, please, let him know it has nothing to do with it. Xiao’s gone through so much both physical and emotional pain, he doesn’t understand why you would willingly exhaust yourself like this.

You’ll probably have to sit him down and patiently explain how some moderate exercise can help you feel more energized and less tired on your day to day activities.

Once he understands, however, he’s very, very supportive!

Will always keep an eye on you, making sure you don’t overexert or stay out too late practicing; carries you back to Wangshuu Inn if you overdid it and is always nearby keeping any monsters at bay.

“Working out?” The adeptus repeats, a frown creasing his forehead, his lips forming an all too adorable pout. “Are you in danger? Is anyone after you?” Xiao asks, his golden orbs widening, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“No, Xiao, it’s nothing like that, my love.” You reassure him, one of your hands reaching out to cup his cheek. “I just want to get stronger, you know? So that I can be better in battle and feel more energized.

Battle. As much as Xiao knows you can hold your own in a fight and trusts your skill, the yaksha doesn’t like the sound of that word, even less coming from your lips.

You shouldn’t have to worry about battles or fights, he vowed to protect you; he deems himself no more than a tool to keep you safe, the weapon that slays any unfortunate who dares harm you.

Do you not need him anymore? Is the question that lingers on his mind and that he can’t bring himself to ask.

Used to your yaksha’s mannerisms, however, you can sense his discomfort.

For someone who claims to deal in bloodbath and death, you’ve come to learn Xiao is about one of the most sensitive and gentle people you could meet.

“Xiao? Does this idea upset you?” You try, taking one of his hands in both of yours, removing his glove to reveal scarred yet tender skin, and sharp claws that hold you with the softness of qingxin and glaze lily petals.

“Maybe…” the conqueror of demons nods, his gaze cast downwards. “Do you…” he hesitates, the prospect of you confirming his deepest fears more painful than the karma he shoulders. “Do you… not need my protection anymore?” He finally manages to ask.

“Oh, Xiao…” With care, you hold his face in both your palms, guiding his sunlit honey eyes back to yours. “Of course I need you. I love you, Xiao.” You whisper, your tone delicate, as if any disturbance or too loud syllable could pop and shatter the little bubble encasing the both of you. “Me exercising and practicing more will not mean I’ll ever stop loving and needing you, baby.” You plant the most tender kiss he’s ever felt on the diamond shaped mark on his temple.

And even though still concerned for your safety and wellbeing, the vigilant yaksha’s heart has been soothed by the floral breeze of your affections tonight.

From that day onwards, it wasn’t rare to see a certain adeptus scanning Guili Plains more exhaustively than usual, especially when a dedicated fighter found themselves mastering the art of their weapon.

CHILDE

Flirty and competitive little shit (affectionate) but he’s actually helpful.

Will take any chance he can get to one up on you. Don’t hold it against him, though, he’s just childish (pun intended), and loves your pouty expressions a little too much.

Finds it so attractive when your breath is labored, yet you still keep going. That sight alone, truly ignites something in him, his usually dull ocean eyes reflecting a myriad of iridescent lights in all the shades that compose you; he feels the need to kiss you and become the cause you’re breathless and… (I’ll stop here before we enter spicy territory, but you get it).

Very caring. Ajax is not new to taking care of people, he has a big family, after all. And as much as he is quite the reckless adrenaline junkie, he doesn’t want you doing anything extreme or pushing yourself to your limits (he pushes you to the limit enough as it is, in all aspects ;).

You think Ajax’s insanity is starting to rub on you.

Sure, you’d like to get more fit and strong, but did you really have to grab your boyfriend’s bow for your first practice?

You sigh, your shoulders already sore from drawing the big bow again and again.

But as they say, no pain, no gain.

At least you are grateful for Polar Star’s soft and supple handle, it keeps your hands (mostly) free from blistering.

You ready yourself, a look of pure concentration on your eyes, set on the target. You aim for the bull’s eye, drawing your elbow backwards, in a way that you hope resembles how Childe does it in battle.

You can picture the arrow’s trajectory, its tip infused in the vibrant hue of your vision, a perfect arch cutting through the skies above in a parable of elemental energy set for a single pinpoint destination.

You take a deep breath.

In, and out.

Then…

An all too familiar (and quite obnoxious, right now) chuckle makes your focus dissipate, akin to ocean waves lapping at the shore, dragging sandy architecture and paintings into lightless depths.

“And just what,” You begin, turning around, deep frown creasing your eyebrows. “Do you find so funny, Tartaglia?” You point the index finger not holding his bow at his chest. “Care to tell me?” You spat, wisps of venomous smoke stoked by your fiery annoyance tainting the edges of your voice.

Childe stands there, looking at you like the idiot in love he is, dumb dopey smile plastered on his unfairly kissable lips.

“Sorry, you’re so cute, sweetheart.” He manages in between chuckles.

You want to smack him over the head with his own bow, but you contain yourself: you really don’t want his weapon to get damaged, after all.

Instead, you settle for punching him on the arm, with less malice than your pout suggests.

“Do you want to see how cute I’ll look after i shoot an arrow through that empty head of yours, Childe?” You retort, arms crossed over your chest.

“Heh, I’d like to see you try, darling. Don’t you think I can’t dodge.”

At his answer, you throw your hands into the air, exasperated.

And, even though Ajax loves teasing you and sparring with you, he doesn’t really like making you angry, especially when you’re trying hard.

“But instead of that,” the harbinger starts, taking the bow from your hands. “How about I help you? You know, weapons are really personal things, what works for me, might not work well for you or another person.”

He likes how your eyes sparkle at his suggestion, your undivided attention prompting the ginger to continue.

“It’s true we can master any kind of weapon, but you need the right one for you, no matter which type you choose.”

The warrior’s calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“So, how about finding the right bow for you? Sound good?”

“Fine…” You breathe, completely lost in the way the last rays of sunshine catch in the deep lakes of his gaze. It is not a sight you get to witness often, and you treasure it immensely.

“Alright!” Your boyfriend nods, picking you up, bridal style, relishing in your squeals and giggles as you both walk into the sunset.

KAEYA

Flirty little shit number 2, except instead of being helpful, he ends up distracting you more than anything.

He makes up for it in support, though. Granted, he teases you a lot, but he’s also your number one cheerleader.

Very touchy and affectionate, will not pass up any chance to leave a kiss here and there, or hold onto your waist.

Loves joining you in your workout sessions and matching outfits with you.

Very vocal, Kaeya compliments you a lot and always has words of encouragement to offer, no matter how completely exhausted or weak you feel.

You swear this is unfair.

He is being unfair.

He knows all too well what he’s doing and he must have had this planned from the moment he offered to help you with your sit-ups session.

“How about I hold your legs in place, my darling?” The cavalry captain suggested in an all too enticing and sultry tone. “Won’t that way be easier for you?”

And of course, you had to go and agree.

Like the fool for him that you are.

So now, you have to have his tempting lips practically shoved in your face every single time you do a sit-up.

You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, you chide yourself internally.

But oh, he’s so not helping at all. Pouting like that every time he keeps count, icy eyes half lidded, the frozen galaxies in them beckoning you closer to his presence.

“And fifty!” Kaeya finally exclaims, when you do the last one of the planned exercises for today. “You did great, my sweet.” The cavalry captain smiles, innocently, as if he wasn’t the main reason your face feels like it’s on fire right now.

“Why, thanks.” You reply, rather bluntly, uncapping the water bottle he just handed to you. At least you are grateful he had the decency to cool it with his vision beforehand. Throwing your head back, you take a long sip. Then:

“You volunteered to help and yet, you’re aware you didn’t make this easy in the slightest, aren’t you?” You accuse.

“My, whatever could you mean, hm?” Your boyfriend taunts, two slender fingers holding your chin in between them. “Or is my precious partner in need of some affection?”

“Oh you…” You whisper, the warmth in your heart overpowering how unnerved your knight makes you feel sometimes.

“Yes, my love?” That look of feigned innocence again.

You huff, defeated. But the smile tugging at the corner of your lips makes it quite obvious you are, indeed, very much needy for his touches and kisses.

Let’s just say, from the instant Kaeya’s hands found your hips up until the moment you’d find yourself laying down in his idyllic embrace, you got an extra work out session.

ARATAKI ITTO

Very supportive, but for the love of the archons, don’t ever let him join you.

Seriously, Itto is all heart and good intentions, but sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.

What to him feels like just some stretches, it might be for you the equivalent of running a marathon with a 10 kilogram heavy backpack on.

Practically worships you and the ground you walk on, though. He’s your biggest hype-man.

The trembling on your arms intensifies as you reach the end of your training session.

You hope Katheryne doesn’t have any too difficult commissions for you in store tomorrow: right now, you doubt you’ll be able to hold your weapon steadily.

You are proud of yourself for reaching your goal today, a gentle, albeit tired, smile making it to your sweaty features as you finish with some meditation and stretches.

The inazuman coast is so serene at this time of day, with the sun dipping behind the horizon, beams of purple and crimson striping the dusk sky.

A sigh escapes your lips, for this peace is always short lived. You wouldn’t have it any other way, however, you love your loud and boisterous oni too much for that.

A few more instants of tranquility pass, the late sunshine fading into luminous constellations riding in the faraway horizon, the crescent moon smiling down at two figures approaching your location.

“Boss! Please! Be quieter, now! It’s late and you can’t disturb the citizens at this hour.”

A knowing smile mimics that of the milky crescent lighting up the indigo infinity above you. You really admire your friend Shinobu’s patience.

“But Shinobu! [Y/n] will be so proud of me when I tell them about how the One and Oni Itto was proclaimed supreme king of the Great All-around Arataki Onikabuto and TCG Championship!”

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose, having had enough of her boss’s antics.

As soon as he spots you, Itto starts waving his big hands energetically, calling your name repeatedly, to Shinobu’s chagrin.

“Itto!” You run to his side, weakly hugging his broad torso. “Why don’t you tell me about today as we walk back home?” You propose, talking in a low voice.

His eyes sparkle excitedly. Sometimes, he reminds you of an adorable puppy; for someone over six feet tall, your oni boyfriend really is sweet.

“But… can I ask you to carry me, please?” You look away, slightly flustered. “Push ups are still a little hard for me.”

That night, the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang had a relaxed night, as she watched the retreating figures of an oni and his lover animatedly recounting the day’s many events.

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

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What Remains in the Wake - Eddie Munson

Part Two of Until the Chaos is Through

Part One - Until the Chaos is Through

Part Three - Blessed Silence After This Mayhem

Part Four - Heinous Regret With No Salvation

Summary: You're left reeling after your boyfriend Eddie's infidelity. It doesn't feel like you'll ever move on, and a tiny part of you wants to go back to him.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied/referenced cheating, again maybe steve x reader if you squint, you have really great friends in this i stg

a/n: HOLY SHIT guys i seriously didn't expect all the love on until the chaos is through! i LOVE reading your thoughts about it. genuinely so many made me laugh so much.

i really hope that you enjoy part two. i got so many requests to be tagged that i couldn't get through them all, so i am sorry about that!

thank you all so much for the support! <3

Masterlist

Your days wasted away into the night after the Halloween party.

You teetered on a razor’s edge between wanting to run straight back to Eddie and wanting to never see him again.

Like today, when laying alone in your room only bought thoughts of missing him. When your covers still smelt like him, and the photos of the two of you stared blankly from their spots on your dresser and the walls and the bedside table, their wide smiles and bright eyes mocking you.

Everywhere you looked, there was Eddie, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave this little self-proclaimed bubble of ignorance.

Because if you didn’t think about it, it wasn’t real. Eddie was simply on his way over to hang out and spend the night like he used to, and everything was fine.

The night of the party, your friends had stayed with you until mid-morning. They took turns in comforting you as you spent hours sobbing on the couch, crying out against the unfairness of it all. About how stuff like this didn’t happen to people like you.

It didn’t happen to couples who loved each other.

Because you loved him.

And Eddie loved you.

But that affirmation you had been repeating to yourself for weeks held no weight now. It had been your lifeline in all those moments of doubt and insecurity, the one thing that you told yourself over and over and over, assuring you that you were wrong.

And yet, you had been right, despite all the lies you pretended were the truth.

You heard Steve’s car pull into your driveway.

You didn’t get up to let him in. He and the other’s had borrowed your spare key, taking turns in checking in on you after your refusal to leave your house for the third day in a row.

You stayed still, curled up beneath the covers, eyes closed as Steve opened your bedroom door.

“Hey,” he murmured, coming to sit on the edge of your bed.

You didn’t reply, just barely peeking your eyes open, but he didn’t look dejected, he just gave you a tight-lipped smile—one that reeked of pity.

Yesterday, it had been Nancy who came by. She had sat right where Steve was, that same sympathetic look on her face. You hadn’t wanted to talk then either.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

The tears burned the back of your eyes. “I’m fine,” you whispered, but your lip trembled, and Steve was quick to brush his hand over the side of your head.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” he told you, the same softness to his voice as before, as if he, too, was trying to protect the quiet bubble just as much as you were. That was what you told yourself, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “Talk to me.”

Your throat ached as you swallowed back a sob. You’d cried enough these past few days. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

His hand brushed over your head again. “About what?”

“About the love I have for him. I love him, Steve.” Just saying those words out loud had you weeping. “I love him so much and it still wasn’t enough.”

Steve’s hand rested on your shoulder, and he squeezed it just tight enough to make you look up at him. “Y/N, it would have been enough for anyone else. I don’t know why he did what he did, but I do know that it wasn’t because of you.”

“But if I—”

“No,” he cut you off, tone firm—firmer than anyone had been in days. “No. This isn’t on you. This is on him.”

The words should have comforted you. He meant them to be comforting, but they didn’t help. They only caused you to think about Eddie.

And it made you think of the fact that he hadn’t contacted you at all.

He hadn’t tried to call. He hadn’t come over. He hadn’t made any effort to try and talk to you.

Maybe you don’t mean enough to him, that tiny voice whispered. Maybe you weren’t enough for him to even bother to apologise. Maybe he doesn’t want to apologise.

You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the awful words that just kept tumbling and turning through your mind.

Steve removed his hand from your shoulder, and you instantly missed the comfort of it.

When you opened your eyes, they fell to him—to his hands—and you frowned.

“What is that?” you asked.

“What?”

You removed your arm from the warmth of your covers to take his hand in yours.

His knuckles were bruised, the middle two split, but they had healed enough to not need to be covered.

Steve tried to pull his hand away, but you held fast. “Steve?”

“I—uh,” He swallowed and looked to the wall, avoiding your eyes. “It’s from the party.”

Your brows furrowed. “You got into a fight?” You had been so focused on yourself that you hadn’t even realised he had been hurt at all, not at the party or over the past few days.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes not leaving your patterned wallpaper. “Sort of.”

You studied his side profile, the way his eyes darted around, his hesitancy to answer your questions.

Steve had been with Jonathan and Nancy most of the night at the party, if you remembered correctly. From the couch at the Roland’s, you had been able to see most of the first floor and you couldn’t recall him getting into a fight. If you had, you would have at least tried to stop him. That man did not need any more knocks to the head. It must have happened upstairs—

It hit you, and you shrunk back.

“Oh,” you said, and this time when he attempted to pull his hand away, you let him.

“I—yeah. Jonathan and I, we—” He cleared his throat, standing. “I should probably go. Do you need anything?”

Jonathan had been at the top of the stairs, but Steve…Steve hadn’t come out until after. Judging by his knuckles, now you knew why. You wondered if Jonathan had even tried to stop him.

You stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head. He rushed out a hurried good-bye, and then your door was pulled shut with barely more than a click.

School was the absolute last place you wanted to be.

The incident wasn’t common knowledge amongst your peers, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before they found out. Already, hushed whispers trailed you; some sympathetic, some not.

It was also the first time in over two years that you didn’t have Eddie by your side as you walked through the front doors. Even before you got together, you had been friends, and his presence right beside you had become a staple in your life that you never thought you’d lose.

But you had.

The worst part was lunch.

As you grabbed your tray, your eyes immediately went to the Hellfire table out of habit, and you stopped short when you realised that you couldn’t sit there anymore.

Eddie wasn’t there in his pride of place at the head of the table, thankfully, but Jeff’s eyes found you, confused as to why you weren’t coming over.

It became obvious that the rest of The Hellfire Club didn’t know.

As you stood there, you wondered if they had known about Eddie and Chrissy. Had they been aware of Eddie’s deals with her? Had you sat across from them every day being the only one in the dark? They were Eddie’s friends first; they didn’t owe you any loyalty. That belonged to their infallible Dungeon Master. Had they humoured you while Eddie snuck out to the—

An arm slipped through yours. “I hear that the band freaks and the school newspaper weirdos have way more fun than D&D nerds,” Robin whispered into your ear as she guided you towards a table at the back of the cafeteria.

You had never been more grateful.

She saw the beholden look on your face and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said softly, and then launched into a spiel about how she had a pop quiz this morning that she most definitely flopped.

Nancy was happy to see you, eyes lighting up as she moved her bag off the table to make a place for you opposite her. Robin dropped into the seat beside you. “Hello, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

You sent Nancy a shy smile. “Yeah,” you said, picking up your fork, “I was surprised, too.”

You had been thinking about skipping school today, and the rest of the week if you were honest, but you knew that it wasn’t going to make a difference about how you were feeling. Your bubble was nothing more than a delusion that you allowed yourself to believe in anyway.

“Well, either way, it’s good to see you here.”

Robin was quick to say, “And to have you sitting with us now. You have no idea the fun we have here.”

You raised a brow. “Oh really?”

“You bet,” she told you, taking a rather large bite out of her sandwich. “Us two? We’re living it up while you losers sit around whining about whatever it is you whine about all day.”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Rob. I believe you.”

Around a mouthful of food, she said, “Look! You’re already laughing. Proof!”

True to her word, you were grinning wider than you had in nearly a week. Being by yourself for so long had only allowed you to stew in your own self-pity. Being here, with your friends who were trying so hard to help you?

That was worth braving the school corridors for.

Robin placed a hand on your arm. “Oh, did you hear about Lucas’s basketball game? He wasn’t benched—” She immediately cut herself off as her eyes flew to something—or someone—behind you.

You tensed, already not liking the way her eyes bulged as she beheld who stood there.

“Um, Y/N? Can I please talk to you?” Chrissy’s voice was quiet, so much so that you almost missed it as you turned to look at her.

She fiddled with the sleeves of her varsity cheer jacket, the one she always wore, the one you knew that she wore when she would see Eddie.

“W-What?” you managed.

She swallowed, eyes darting around at the stares that came with being the Queen of Hawkins High. “I—I would like to talk to you, please.” She pulled the sleeve of her jacket particularly hard, and it displaced the neckline of her shirt just enough to reveal a tiny patch of discoloured skin on her collarbone.

Your throat suddenly felt like it was closing up.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from that spot of skin. Had it been Eddie? Or had it been Jason? Had Jason known that his girlfriend slept with the freak he hated so much? You had never really liked Jason Carver, but right now, in this exact moment, there was no one else on earth who you understood more.

Both thoughts had bile rising as you tried to calm your racing heart. “I don’t want to talk to you, Chrissy.”

She looked down at you, a dumbstruck look on her face. “Why?”

Your jaw dropped open, and you knew that Robin and Nancy shared the same look. “Why—Why do I not want to talk to you?” you uttered. “Because you slept with my boyfriend, Chrissy.”

Her eyes widened, and she quickly glanced around at the surrounding tables.

As she did, that feeling that you had become so accustomed to whenever you saw her slowly morphed into disbelief.

Even now, she was worried about people finding out that she was the one who fucked the freak. Even as she stood beside the person who she had stolen him from, who she had a hand in betraying.

“Are you serious?”

“Please,” she murmured, “Can we speak outside?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told her, voice shaking.

“But—”

You dug your fingers into the side of the table.

You had no idea where all of this anger was coming from. For days, you hadn’t been able to feel anything except a swirling pool of heartbreak and numbness. And now, this rush of hostility coursed through you faster than you could stop it.

“—Chrissy,” Nancy interrupted. “You should go.”

Robin’s hand coming to rest on your forearm was the only thing keeping your grounded.

Chrissy eyed the growing number of stares that were on her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and your chair was sliding back in an instant as you stood.

She shrank back at the ferocity in your eyes, mouth dropping open as you leaned forward. “I don’t want your apologies,” you spat. “I want you to fuck off.” Robin and Nancy were standing, too, Robin’s hand a hairsbreadth from your arm as if to grab you at a moment’s notice.

Chrissy took a single step back. Then another. Her eyes didn’t leave you as she raced away from your table.

You stared after her, blood thrumming in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest.

But as soon as the adrenaline rush arrived, it deserted you, and that rage became humiliation as you noted all the eyes on you.

You slumped back into your seat.

Nancy sat wide-eyed across from you. “Are…Are you OK?” she asked, somewhere between shocked and…impressed?

“I honestly don’t know,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Your face burned, and you shook your head. At what, you didn’t know. Maybe at your actions. Maybe at Chrissy’s fucking ignorance.

“Well,” Robin said, brows raised as she looked between you and Nancy. “I think we can safely say our table hasn’t seen this much action in years.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I thought you said you had fun here?”

“I’m a liar.”

You knew that going to The Hideout for the first time since Halloween would be difficult, but you hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

You didn’t expect to see Eddie in everything.

He wasn’t actually there on the random Friday night that you, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan decided to hang out, but you saw him on the stage.

You saw him leaning against the back wall, you standing snuggly against him, playing with his hair as you listened to the band on after Corroded Coffin.

You saw him sitting at the bar, peppering kisses along your jaw.

You saw him at the table by the window, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you coming back with drinks in hand.

The Hideout was a living, breathing reminder of everything you and Eddie had once been.

And you didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

“I just can’t believe it’s taking this long,” Jonathan shouted over the music, bringing your attention back to the group. He was rambling on about something to do with Chief Hopper and his mother, and to be honest, you were a little lost.

“Didn’t they go to high school together?” Steve asked. “They’ve known each other forever.”

“Exactly!” Jonathan exclaimed, surging forward enough to jolt Nancy who was perched under his arm. “It’s like, you’ve known each other for so long and you both know you like each other, so why are you just waiting around for something to happen?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but one of the bartenders appeared at the end of the table. Earl, you remembered, and from the way his face lit up, he remembered you, too.

“Y/N!” he called, and you waved politely. “I haven’t seen you here for ages! We missed you at Eddie’s set last week. I almost called you when he got so wasted he couldn’t walk, but he insisted he was fine. Stumbled out of here by himself with nothing but his wits. Stupid boy.”

Despite everything, a pang of worry shot through you. “Oh,” you said awkwardly, “I—yeah, Eddie and I aren’t really…” You trailed off, and Earl’s face fell a fraction.

“Ah, well, next round is on me,” he told you, and you sent him a grateful smile as he disappeared into the throng of people.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself, and Steve picked up on it, launching back into the conversation with Jonathan.

That seemed to be your general state of being now. Unsure.

You were unsure who you were without Eddie. You were unsure how you could go forward when a small part of you kept wanting to go back. Back to the man that you had made plans with for after graduation. The man who you had promised to be with forever; promised to build a life with outside of Hawkins in less than a few months.

Eddie still hadn’t tried to see you. He still hadn’t called, or come to your house, or even tried to accost you at school like Chrissy had.

Over the past two weeks, you hadn’t even seen him in the halls at school, or the cafeteria, despite his van being in the parking lot every day.

He simply disappeared from your life, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The lump in your throat made itself apparent, just like it always did. It practically lived within you now.

You slid out of the booth, shooting your friends a quick glance. “Bathroom,” you said quickly, before weaving past people you both recognised and didn’t. Most of the people you only knew because of Eddie.

The bathroom was empty. A small mercy, as you locked the door and sat on the lid of the toilet, head in your hands.

Coming here so soon was a mistake. It was too much.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, quietly savouring the pressure.

You didn’t belong here without Eddie.

You didn’t belong anywhere without Eddie.

No matter how much you tried to kid yourself, nothing felt right without him.

There was a knock on the door, but you ignored it.

You hadn’t ever even been to The Hideout without him. It was his place, and you just tagged along, ringing in the perks of being with the band. Which weren’t many except maybe a few free drinks here and there.

But to everyone you met there, you were Eddie’s.

And now you weren’t.

And that hurt so much.

Someone knocked again, and this time you shouted, “Give me a minute!”

The person on the other side was silent, and you rubbed at your eyes, patterns playing behind your eyelids in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes.

It was comforting, somehow.

The door clicked open, and your head shot up to see Nancy standing there, hair pin in hand. “Sorry,” she said, looking only slightly guilty. “I wanted to check on you. I was worried.”

You scoffed. “What if I was peeing?”

She shut the door. “Then we would have known each other a lot more intimately than we did ten seconds before now.” She eyed you up and down, eyes not missing a thing. She was so perceptive that it was almost scary. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

“We can go, you know? We don’t have to stay if it’s making you upset.”

“I—I want to. I just—” You waved your hands around. “—It doesn’t feel right. Without him. Nothing does.”

Nancy gave you one of her closed mouth smiles. “I know it feels that way now, but it will get better. I promise.” She knelt before you, hands on your knees as she leaned down to catch your eye. “What he did, you can’t go back, no matter how much you want to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How long will it take?” You felt like a child asking questions that didn’t have an answer.

Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know that a week ago, this would have sent you spiralling. And now, you’re not even crying.” You blinked, feeling for the first time that your eyes were dry. She smiled. “Time, honey. You just need time.”

“Why are we here again?” you grumbled to Jonathan as you both got out of his car on the main street.

“Because one: I need help carrying all this to the car, and two: I also need help putting it together,” he told you.

“And why am I tasked in helping you put your brother’s Christmas present together? It’s still months away.”

Jonathan sighed, all mock disappointment. “Well, you weren’t my first choice, but everyone else is busy.”

You jabbed your finger into his arm. “That’s mean, you know that?”

“Maybe if you stopped complaining so much, we’d already be done,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

The main street wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be on a Saturday mid-afternoon.

People still meandered up and down the street, but most were on a mission, like you and Jonathan.

Jonathan hadn’t even explained exactly what it was that you were picking up and putting together. You just knew that he was really excited about giving it to Will. And you could hardly say no to him when it was practically saying no to sweet, little Will.

“Don’t forget we have to pick Lucas and Max up from the arcade on the way back,” you reminded him.

“Why do we have to do that again?”

“Because you recruited me and I already said yes to them, so we have to combine plans.” You side stepped a large group of elderly women who pushed straight through the middle of you two. Jonathan kept walking and was a few metres ahead by the time the group of ladies finished filing past.

You stepped off to follow after him when your name was called from across the street.

Looking up, you froze as Eddie came rushing across the street towards you.

It was as if every single thought you’d ever had emptied from your mind as he came to a stop a few feet from you.

His hair was just as messy as it always was, and you noted the faded bruise on his cheekbone. You didn’t have to guess where that had come from, and the bags under his eyes were much more prominent than they normally were.

Seeing him now, your stomach churned with so many different emotions that you weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

He was a little out of breath as he said, “Can I talk to you? Please?” His dark eyes were pleading, and you fought against the urge to instantly cave, just like you always did when he shot you his puppy dog eyes.

“I—”

You were cut off when Jonathan suddenly appeared beside you. He looked beyond angry; his brows creased, and his top lip pulled back. “I thought we told you to keep your distance, Munson,” he ground out.

Eddie looked surprised to see him. He obviously thought you’d been alone. “I just want to talk, man. Please. I’ve stayed away, but I need to talk to you.” He directed the last bit at you. “Please.”

You didn’t think that you’d heard him say please so much in his life. He was practically begging.

“What do you want to say?” you asked timidly. Eddie glanced between you and Jonathan. “It’s fine, Jonathan. Just give me a minute?”

He looked unsure, but eventually conceded, shooting Eddie a dirty look as he made his way up the street just enough to give you some privacy. You had known him long enough to know that he was still within hearing distance.

“What did you want to talk about?”

When Eddie’s eyes finally found yours again, they looked pained. “I…I wanted to talk about us.”

“There is no us, Eddie.”

“I know. I know that. But I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea how hard these past few weeks have been for me. Staying away from you—”

“How hard they’ve been for you?” You laughed, right in his face. “How do you think they’ve been for me? You didn’t even try and see me.”

“Steve and Jonathan told me not to. They said—”

“I don’t give a shit what Steve and Jonathan said. You cheated on me and then just abandoned me.” Your voice wavered, and you hated that Eddie caught it.

He tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and pulled your hand away. His eyes flashed with hurt, and you squashed the part of you that felt bad. “And I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It was a mistake.”

You closed your eyes for a second, hating the way your pet name rolled off his tongue. The pet name that he hadn’t used in the weeks before Halloween. It had become non-existent once he started seeing Chrissy.

“How many times?” you asked suddenly.

He looked confused. “What?”

“How many times, Eddie?” you repeated. You didn’t want to say the words out loud.

Understanding your meaning, his eyes found the ground. He was silent for a long moment. “Six,” he mumbled.

You choked. “Six?” You took another step back.

“It—Y/N, wait—”

“—Six times you slept with her and then came home to me?”

You weren’t even sure why you were entertaining this conversation. You knew that it was only going to end up with you hurting more than you already were.

“No, I never saw you on those days,” he confessed.

You stared at him. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

His eyes widened, and he rushed out, “No, no. I’m just trying to explain.”

The melancholic agony that you’d been stuck in for weeks was suddenly sharpening. The razor’s thin edge became no longer wanting or not wanting, it became anger and rage. “There is nothing you could possibly explain to make this better.”

His voice became pleading, and he stepped towards you as if you were going to suddenly disappear. “Please, baby, it was a mistake. Chrissy—she’s not you. I want you. I need you—”

Your fist was flying before you could stop it, and you only registered what you had done when your knuckles stung.

Eddie reeled back, and you stared wide-eyed at him. His hand went to his face, holding the spot between his cheekbone and his nose.

He opened and closed his mouth.

“I loved you, Eddie,” you uttered, clutching your fist in your other hand. “I gave you everything, and it still wasn’t enough for you. I needed my boyfriend to love me enough to not sleep with other people.”

Jonathan was suddenly standing beside you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you spat as Jonathan took your arm. “I don’t need you anymore.”

If Eddie was going to say something, you didn’t find out, because Jonathan was pulling you up the street past the onlookers who were gawking at both you and Eddie.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered, and you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or just pure mania, but you started to laugh. “That really fucking hurt. I think I broke my hand.”

Pulling the door open to Family Video an hour before closing, you were pleased to see it was empty aside from the man you were looking for.

“Harrington,” you called as the door shut behind you, “I need a movie recommendation.”

Looking up from where he was leaned against the counter flicking though a magazine, Steve seemed both surprised and happy to see you. “You’ve come to the right place,” he declared, standing up. “We have movies galore. What are you looking for?”

You grinned as you reached the counter. “Something funny, but also a little sad, with a killer soundtrack.”

He pretended to ponder for a moment. “Sounds an awful lot like your favourite movie,” he pronounced.

“Someone has to keep this place afloat. Why not me and my little favourites?”

Steve rolled his eyes playfully. “Where would we be without you?” he joked, pulling a tape from beneath the counter and setting it in front of you.

You raised a brow. “You had it sitting back there already?”

He shrugged. “Had a hunch.”

Reaching for the cash in your pocket, you hissed when your knuckles caught the lip of the pocket. Steve noticed, and his eyes shot to your hand.

“I heard you socked Munson in the face today,” he remarked, and you couldn’t quite tell the tone he used.

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly, placing the money on the counter.

He held out his hand, wagging his fingers. “Let me see.”

Gingerly, you placed your hand in his own, watching as he studied your knuckles. Unlike his, the skin of your knuckles was still intact, but they were slowly starting to bruise.

And they hurt like hell. You didn’t know how people did it over and over again. Just one mediocre punch and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to hold a pencil for a week.

“We match,” you observed, and he shot you a disapproving look.

“Not really something I wanted to match you for.” He brushed his thumb over them, and you winced. “You’re lucky it’s not broken.”

“Jonathan already gave me that spiel,” you muttered. He had seriously ripped into you on the drive from the main street. Not only had you ruined his plans for the day and still forced him to pick up Lucas and Max, but he then had to take you to the hospital which he was less than impressed with.

The verdict had been bruised knuckles and not a break, but the doctor had advised you to lay off punching people in the face in the future.

Still looking at your hand, Steve started chuckling and you narrowed your eyes. “What?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you punched him in the main street.”

“He’s the one who came at me. If anything, he chose the location,” you tried to justify.

Steve smiled. “I’m proud of you,” he said after a second. “I know it was hard for you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. “Thank you, Stevie.”

And you really meant it.

You had no doubt that if it weren’t for the support of your friends, you wouldn’t be where you were. If it weren’t for them, you might never have known about Eddie and Chrissy.

And as much as you had been confused and upset about not seeing Eddie in the last few weeks, Steve’s threats about giving you space were the best thing that could have happened. Because you would have gone back to him if he showed up on your doorstep. You would have continued to bleed yourself dry for him over and over again.

Steve tapped your fingers, and you looked back at him.

Like Nancy said, it would still take some time.

But you were all right with that.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things angst #steve harrington x reader #outerspacebisexual

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

Text

It’s All Fun and Games...

Leah Williamson x Morgan!Reader

Word Count: 662

A/N: These burbs aren’t in any specific chronological order

Sisterly Love Masterlist

[WOSO Masterlist]

As a professional soccer player, sometimes you don’t want to be playing soccer in your downtime.

Today’s not one of those days.

You can’t really remember who proposed it, but someone said something about a little friendly 2-on-2 and the next thing you know, the four of you are trudging to a nearby park.

Alex (Morgan) was visiting for a couple days, so like the proper best friend she is, Alex (Scott) also wanted to tag along when she heard Leah making plans. The four of you had just had a nice little brunch, and with the great weather in London, it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. The solution ended up being a small 2-on-2 match, something that surprisingly no one objected to.

You’ve just dropped the ball on the ground when Alex asks a pretty reasonable question. “So how are we choosing teams?”

Leah opens her mouth, but before she can answer, you’re blurting out a response of your own.

“I call Scott!”

“What?” Leah whips her head around, face scrunched up in confusion.

“What?” Your sister’s glaring at you, a little offended at not getting picked.

“Me?” Alex looks a little pleased, but still feigning nonchalance to avoid the wrath of both your girlfriend and sister.

Shrugging, you try to hide your grin. You slip an arm around Alex’s. “Sorry gals, you snooze, you lose. Plus Alex is like a football legend, of course I’m gonna want her on my team.”

“I’m sorry, which one of us has won two World Cups, gotten an Olympic gold, and--”

“Vanity isn’t a pretty color on you, Al,” you tsk, ignoring the offended gasp your comment earns you.

“Excuse you, forget Alex. What about me?” Leah pushes her way in front of your sister. She’s looking pretty peeved at being left out of consideration. “I’m your girlfriend. Where’s the Arsenal loyalty, babe?”

“Legend,” you repeat, pointing at the woman still attached to you. “Arsenal legend. If anything I’m being even more loyal to Arsenal by choosing her.”

“Oh shut it, you know what I mean.”

“You know what, Leah? It’s fine.” Alex (Morgan) places an arm on your girlfriend’s shoulder. “I for one am happy to have you on my team. And we’re going to have a blast creaming them.”

Never one to be left out of conversation, Alex (Scott) speaks just before the four of you head to your respective halves. “So is there anything at stake in this game? Do the winners get anything? Or punishments for the losers?”

“Loser has to adopt (Y/N),” Alex (Morgan) grumbles, tightening her shoe laces.

Leah’s eye twitching is the only evidence of how close she is to considering it. “Losers buy dinner tonight?” she proposes instead.

“Hope you like pasta!” you sing out, pretending not to notice the dirty look Leah instantly shoots your way.

While Alex and Leah quickly huddle up to talk strategies, you and your Alex huddle up to do the same.

Before you can get a word in, Alex is putting a hand on your arm, tilting her head at you inquisitively. “Love the vote of confidence, ‘go us!’, but you do know I’m the only one out of the lot of you who doesn’t play professionally anymore, right?”

You shrug. “And? Don’t say you’ve never wondered what it would be like to score against Alex Morgan. Or better yet stop her from scoring.”

You must’ve said something wrong because Alex is instantly trying not to laugh. “Oh honey,” she coos, lips twitching in amusement. “How old do you think I am? I’ve most definitely played against your sister before. Not really something I’m looking forward to doing again, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

You should’ve heeded Alex’s warning a bit more.

Leah tries not to be too smug when you end up getting Nandos for dinner.

Your sister on the other hand, well she doesn’t even try to hide her glee.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

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ilythena · 1 year

Text

·˚ ₊˚ 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝟐 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝟐.

Sum. ᯤ How would the blue lock characters react to you being in a fight? Fic ver. PART 2

Char. ⩩ Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, Reo Mikage, Nagi Seishiro, Kunigami Rensuke, Rin Itoshi, Chigiri Hyoma

Tags. ⌯ Fighting, isagi scolding you but you dgaf, blood.

Wc. ꩜ 1,155

“I hate parties.” Isagi says, shoving through the crowd of people with Bachira following behind him. “I think this is fun!” Sitting down on couch in the only empty room in the house, Bachira takes a sip of his drink and smiles wide at the clearly irritated Isagi.

Chigiri walks into the room just as upset as Isagi, complaining that he already lost Reo and doesn’t know where else to go, and Bachira is trying to convince the two to stay a little longer— at least until they find everyone.

Kunigami somehow also finds the room where the three boys are sitting and joins them on their little conversation, siding with bachira on the party isn’t that bad, he texts Reo and Nagi to see where they are and to find out if they’re okay. Chigiri and Isagi continue to complain until Kunigami excuses himself to go get some water.

It takes him a while to get back, and Bachira assumes Kunigami probably got distracted or got lost and forgot to return back. “He’ll be back eventually, kunigami is responsible. He wouldn’t drink or get high so we don’t need to worry about him!”

They think nothing of it and continue to talk thinking that Kunigami is gonna return soon with a bottle of water or two. What they didn’t expect Kunigami to return with was a angry you who’s screaming and kicking calling someone an “ugly ass bitch” with Reo and nagi following close behind. Your hands are covered in blood from the bottle that the other girl swung on you and your face is cut because of her nails.

“What the fuck.” Isagi doesn’t waste a second to close the door and find something to clean your hands up with, blood is all over the floor from the cuts but you don’t care about any of that, all you want to do is get back out there and teach that girl who she’s fucking with. “Y/n?! What happened!” “Dear god.” Bachira and Chigiri are trying to calm you down and Kunigami is still holding on to you— trying to make sure you calm down so you don’t run out there and fight again.

“Me and Nagi were walking to the kitchen to get some quiet and we saw y/n and some lady arguing, next thing I knew I blinked and the girl had tried to swing her beer bottle on y/n’s head.” Reo said, and Nagi looks more awake than ever.“Kunigami I swear to god let me go before I whoop you next. I’m not gon’ run.” “Can’t do that, y/n.” Kunigami sits you down on the couch and chigiri is repeating how we’re all leaving as soon as possible. Isagi returns with a towel and looks pissed as he wraps your hands up in it and gets a closer look at your face.

Bachira suddenly knows exactly who reo is talking about, it’s the same girl you had beef with since you started dating Rin. He doesn’t hesitate to smack his teeth and look as irritated as you. “She’s so annoying. Why won’t she let up?” “Exactly! She’s a fucking hater and I can’t wait until I can whoop that ugly hoes ass. I guess I gotta wait another day cause-“ “y/n be for real. You’re bleeding and we’re going home.” Isagi grips the back of your shirt hard as hell and drags you out the house with everyone else following.

You all hop in the car with you seated between kunigami and nagi, the two keep an eye out for you to make sure you’re okay.

Nagi’s phone dings and screaming is heard off of it, you peek and it’s your fight video— It’s pretty obvious you won despite the bleeding hands. “This is exactly why i didn’t even want to come in the first place, this shit is ridiculous.” Isagi sighs, steering out of his parking spot and driving to Rin’s place. “I mean, at least y/n won.” Nagi says and chigiri side eyes the taller male. He shrugs and mouths a ‘it’s true!’

Bachira turns around to look at you and you’re not even saying anything, he knows you well enough to tell you’re irritated beyond belief and all you want to do is fight. The said girl has been on your back since you started dating Rin and doesn’t let up, the alcohol she consumed built up her confidence to fight you when you were having a good time.

Nagi rubs your back and Kunigami tells you to breathe because Rin wouldn’t be happy to see this, you take his words into consideration and calm down a little. Rin didn’t even want you going and looking back now he was right.

Your hands are still bleeding, and it’s soaking through the towels now. It’s concerning you more and more as each second passes and you’re pretty sure you need stitches, Reo notices and tells Isagi to go to the hospital instead.

“What? Why wo- oh my fucking god she cut you that deep?” Isagi says, quickly looking back and seeing how much blood is now in his car and on you as he makes a U-Turn and drives to the hospital. “That bitch is crazy.” He mumbles as Bachira looks through the glove compartment for some towels or something to at least clean some of it up.

Chigiri has been quiet this whole time, honestly wanting everything to calm down. “Someone call rin!” Reo says and chigiri dials his number, no answer. Calls again, no answer.

Nagi notices and calls rin, still no answer. You see this and say “call rin off my phone, he has all of you silenced.” Isagi and kunigami scoff and kunigami picks up your phone as nagi takes the paper towels from bachira to hold your hands in.

After calling Rin on your phone, he finally picks up with a “hello? I was going to call nagi and chigiri back but you called-“ “y/n got in a fight and we’re on our way to the hospital.” Silence consumes the car for about 5 seconds before you hear Rin scream “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO Y/N.”

You laugh and Kunigami points the speaker to you “I’m fine babe, I just got into a fight and the bitch cut my hands open with the bottle she swung at me.” “So you’re not fine is basically what you just said. Who was it?” Rin says, shuffling is heard over the phone and you assume he’s getting up to meet you at the hospital. “It was the same girl I told you was mad that we were dating.” And Rin let’s out an ‘oh god. Her.’ And you laugh harder. Its the only time you’ve smiled since the incident happened.

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corinthianism · 3 months

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everything has changed | dean winchester (1)

pairing: dean winchester/f!reader additional tags: reverse isekai, fluff, crack, meet cute, slight angst

summary: once again, dean lands in the reality where he’s just a fictional character played by jensen ackles. it’s annoying the hell out of him and he just wants to go back home, until he doesn’t.

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE NAME

Today was supposed to be a normal day. It was your day off and you were on your way to check out a new shop that had opened downtown. They sold a bunch of fandom merchandise, which wasn’t special or anything, but you were hoping they had a nice keychain that you could clip onto your bag. The paint on your old green lightsaber keychain had flaked off, leaving behind an ugly gray rod of steel instead of Luke Skywalker’s iconic weapon.

The shop wasn’t far; in fact, you could’ve walked it, so you did. It was nice out today, and it was one of the rare opportunities you had to actually get out and get some sun, what with work eating up all of your hours. You’d barely made it a few blocks when you noticed a man lying face-down on the ground, his cheek smushed directly against the hot concrete.

You panicked, not sure if you should rush in and help or run away. Very far away. While you were busy in your own head, the guy in question rolled to his side, revealing a very familiar face.

No fucking way.

“Jensen Ackles?”

Jensen groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, “What’d you say, lady?”

You swallowed and repeated what you said, “You’re Jensen Ackles, right? The actor?”

The man in front of you was no doubt Jensen Ackles, from the green eyes to the freckles that were dusted all over his nose and cheeks. It’d been years since the media last heard about him; him and Jared Padalecki basically shut down Supernatural when they quit out of the blue, after Misha Collins was murdered. Their representatives all said the same thing: that they were just having a hard time mourning their friend and that they needed to take some time away from the limelight.

But neither of them came back or at least, no one had heard from them since. Until now, that is. And for some reason, Jensen was all dressed up as Dean.

“No, I’m… Goddamn,” he winced as he tried to stand up, clutching his side with one hand. When you approached him to help him get up, you saw the crimson liquid that oozed from underneath his clothes and all over his hand. “I’m… I’m fine, lady, don’t worry about it.”

“Jesus Christ!” you staggered back at the sight of blood, the starstruck feeling suddenly replaced by shock. “You are not fine, dude, you need to go to a hospital!”

“No, I don’t,” his voice was gruff, more so than when you heard him in person the last time there was a Supernatural convention. That was years ago, back when you were still in braces and listening to Panic! at the Disco. Now, he sported a somewhat-noticeable Midwestern accent and asked you question after question that you weren’t really processing, all while keeping a mostly straight face despite his heavily bleeding wound. He spoke again, “What year is it?”

The question was odd enough to finally snap you out of staring at the bloodied patch on his jacket and out of your inevitable freak-out, “What?”

“I said,” he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “What year is it?”

“It’s… 2024?” you raised a brow, but your primary concern was getting him somewhere safe so he could be patched up. “Sir, I think you need to get some help.”

He fully ignored you, opting to instead frantically look around and march away to God-knows-where. You weren’t sure what to do except follow him, worried that the wound on his side was much worse than it looked. Judging from how much blood there was, it had to be deep. Probably a stab wound.

You really didn’t wanna think about it.

Following Jensen led you to a newspaper and tabloid stand, with him haphazardly flicking through today’s newspaper to find whatever it was he needed to find. You debated on whether or not you were gonna call 911 because of the wound, but he seemed entirely unaffected, or if he was, he did a good job of not showing it.

You both just stood there for a few minutes, and you couldn’t help but notice how he became more aggravated the more he read through the papers.

“Um, sir?” you cleared your throat, trying desperately to calm the panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t listen.

“Mr. Ackles… can—” you took a deep breath, “—can you please calm down and tell me what’s going on? Sir?”

He only frowned even more, clenching his jaw as he tried to absorb the words on the pages, instead of listening to you. Christ, this man was stubborn. Not at all what you thought he’d be. Then again, celebrities weren’t your friends.

You were getting frustrated, too. Then, an idea struck. You weren’t sure if it was going to work, it was stupid as hell, but you had to try.

“Dean?” you said the name softly.

He finally looked at you, though in all honesty, it was more like a side-eye. But it was something, so you kept going.

“Dean,” the name felt weird on your tongue as you repeated it. You were calling an actor by his character’s name. Who does that? “Can you please tell me what’s going on? I only want to help.”

“Sweetheart,” he gave you this big charming smile which you could only assume was a bit mocking.

“Dean…” you returned the favor, saying his name as sweetly as you could but the pettiness in your tone vanished as soon as you saw him wince again in pain. It would’ve been easier to let him go and to just go home, but you couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t seem to have a car or even a working phone. “You’re clearly hurt. Please, just let me help.”

He let out a sigh of defeat, accepting that yes, maybe he needed some help, “If you want to help… where’s the nearest burger joint? And do you have a first aid kit?”

So there you were, sharing a burger with Jensen Ackles, except he only answered to the name Dean. You led him to a small diner, which was becoming increasingly rare in the area. The sign outside spelled out SMITH’S BREAKFAST DINER in a retro font, though the lights didn’t work anymore. The place had been operating since the late 80s, and never really got around to keeping up with the trends. Regardless, you kept coming back. They had good food, good music, and Suzanne always called you “darlin’” in a sweet Southern accent every time you came in for a quick bite.

You chewed your burger slowly, your mind wandering to the crazy possibility that you were actually sitting in front of Dean Winchester, not Jensen Ackles. If that was the case, you hoped the diner would bring him some comfort. From what you saw in the show, him and Sam always frequented places like these. The thought that he might actually be the character and not the actor was still so insane, to the point where you couldn’t even really enjoy your food like you normally would.

He was also munching on his burger, shamelessly groaning in delight. His eyes were even closed… which was definitely a good thing because you’d been staring at him the whole time. It took him less than two minutes to chow the whole thing down.

You knew some people who’d met Jensen at conventions, back when those were still a thing. They always said he was nice and considerate, and all that. Or that he smelled nice. Sitting here in front of him, there was only one thing that was stuck in your head.

This man, whoever he was, Jensen or Dean… he was incredibly attractive. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, he looked like he needed help and honestly? You didn’t really know why you wanted to help. Perhaps you just had nothing better to do. Maybe it was something deeper than that. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have “saved a celebrity” on your resumé.

“Dean” took a big gulp of the Coca-Cola in front of him, letting out a refreshed sigh. Then, without warning, he pulled out whatever was lodged in his side. The suddenness of his movement, combined with his pained groan, startled you. A few of the other patrons of the diner cast confused looks your way, which you tried to play off with a nervous smile.

A sharp clunk caught your attention and when you looked back at the table, there was a bloody shard of glass right next to your iced tea.

“What the fuck?!” you whisper-yelled, quickly covering up the glass with some napkins before someone else could see it. You turned your attention back to “Dean”, who was taking a few breaths to calm himself down as he began discretely disinfecting his wound. You wanted to be mad, you really wanted to, but your fourteen year old self would scream at you if you did not help this man. And the way he flinched every now and then as the hydrogen peroxide pricked at his wound certainly earned him some pity points.

“So… uh, do I really call you Dean?” you started lamely instead of reprimanding him for his callousness, still trying to wrap your head around the possibility that this might really be Dean Winchester. “Like the guy from Supernatural?”

He groaned at the mention of Supernatural, briefly stopping his movements to cast an unimpressed look at you, “Yes, you call me Dean, ‘cause it’s my name, lady.”

You steeled yourself as he went back to treating his wound, “Yeah, well, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Dean stopped again, his brows relaxing into a more neutral yet somber expression, as if you’d just hit him with a sobering truth, “...Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

The two of you simmered in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“I just want to help,” you spoke first, trying your best to convey your sincerity to him, “but if you are who I think you are then I understand why you might be hesitant to clue me in on what’s going on.”

“And who do you think I am, exactly?” he spared you an intrigued glance, unflinching as the needle pierced his skin.

You popped a fry in your month, chewing slowly as you eyed him up and down, “Well, I doubt Jensen Ackles would get himself injured like that and walk around in broad daylight where the paparazzi could see him and say all sorts of things. Dean Winchester, on the other hand…”

He shifted in his seat to fully face you, a smirk playing across his lips.

“So what? You’re just gonna believe that I'm Dean Winchester?” he raised a brow, squinting his eyes at you accusingly as if to test you. You had to give it to him, it made you waver in your belief, but you stayed firm.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” you offered with a small smile, feeling that the quote described your thought process pretty well. It made you feel smart in the moment, even if you knew full well that it was your teenage self’s delusions resurfacing.

He nodded in understanding and laughed, “Ha! Nice Velma quote.”

You were the one to raise a brow this time, “It’s a Sherlock quote.”

“Oh,” his smile faltered. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment, “...Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. Totally.”

You held in your laughter, biting your lip as you watched the faintest blush spread across his freckled cheeks. The moment sizzled out after a while, leaving you two in a semi-comfortable silence. You noticed how guarded he was, sneaking a glance at you every now and then as he patched up his wound. You understood why; he didn’t wanna be vulnerable in a room where it was only the two of you, so as weird as it was to have a man bleeding out in a breakfast diner, it was still much safer.

It wasn’t like he was the only one with doubts. For all you know, Jensen Ackles had just gone crazy after Misha Collins died. Same thing might’ve happened to Jared Padalecki. You still wondered what on Earth happened to them, but there was something about the man in front of you that made you feel safe. Your first instinct was to trust him, and that had never happened before. It scared you.

Whatever it was, you just had to give this a shot. Maybe it was the feeling that this whole thing was a lot bigger than you could’ve ever imagined.

“What will you do after this?” you asked him, eyeing the needle in his hand.

The question seemed to upset him, even if he was trying his best to hide it. Something shifted in his gaze, his resolve seemingly faltering for a split second. It only intrigued you even more, getting caught up in his every little move like he was a movie you’ve never seen before.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he offered you a tight-lipped smile, finishing off the stitch with a secured knot, “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

That answer didn’t make you feel any better. Then, something clicked into place.

When Misha Collins was murdered a few years ago, a “script” for Supernatural was leaked by someone on Tumblr. It spread like wildfire then and you remembered the amount of hate comments the poster got. People assumed it was a weird fanfic to explain how Misha died since the case was never solved and for the longest time, people just stuck with that. A chill ran down your spine as you tried to recall what was in that leaked script.

Sam and Dean were sent to the “real” world by Balthazar using a spell. They were being chased by some angel whose name you couldn’t remember. Misha was killed while the brothers ran away from the angel. You racked your brain to figure out the last piece of the puzzle.

“Wait…” you started, doubt blocking you from saying the rest of the sentence. It was crazy, fucking insane, but if your Supernatural knowledge was as solid as you thought it was, then there was only one explanation for his sudden but subtle change in demeanor. “Please don’t tell me you’re stuck here.”

The frown on his face told you everything you needed to know. He was stuck here until someone from his home universe managed to bring him back.

“Oh my fucking god.”

He chuckled, “Right on the money there, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t be believing you just like that. Why am I believing you? You’re not real. I’m going crazy,” you said out loud, half of it going towards yourself and the other half going towards him. “Monsters aren’t real. Hunters aren’t a thing—”

He frowned, “Hey, I know we got off to a bad start but you can’t just be saying that I’m not real.”

“Prove it to me, then,” you hardened your gaze. “Prove to me that you’re Dean Winchester.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“Dean” sighed, shifting in his seat so that he was sitting a bit more upright and was fully facing you. Then, he tugged down on the collar of his shirt, revealing a very real anti-possession tattoo on his chest. It was blurred around the edges a little bit, having faded with time. A small gasp left your lips as you took it all in.

“That’s…” you looked back up at “Dean” and for the first time, you noticed how much older he was compared to the last time you saw him. Or the last time you saw Jensen Ackles. His wrinkles were deeper, his eyes more tired. There were a few tiny scars littered across his face, nearly invisible if you weren’t watching them so closely. His mousy brown hair had a few grey strands that poked out, as well as some grey peppered around his clean five ‘o clock shadow.

He chuckled once he saw your shocked expression, tapping on the tattoo, “Yeah. Got this bad boy in 2007. Probably saved my ass more times than I can count.”

“What do I even say to that?” you stared at him dumbly.

He realized that you were right. As weird as it was for him to be in a world without monsters and magic, it was probably weirder for you to find out that the world from a TV show was real. He smacked his lips and avoided your gaze, “Um. Yeah. Weird, I know.”

“Weirder than weird, dude,” you sighed, wiping your face with your hands. “I mean, I wanna help, but how the hell am I supposed to help you? You fight like… demons and vampires and stuff. I work from home! On my laptop!”

He looked back at you, smiling awkwardly as you had a mini-existential crisis, “I just, um… Do you have some cash? I got like, twenty bucks in my wallet right now. I just need to get to a motel and you’re never gonna have to see me again.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to console a woman in the middle of an existential crisis, but to be fair, the sooner he was gone, the sooner you could get back to your life.

He put back all of the stuff he used from your first aid kit back into its bag, pushing it towards you as he wiped his hands clean with a tissue. He called for Suzanne with a smile, his charm dialed up to a hundred, “Hey, sweetheart, can you pack this up for me? Thanks.”

“Oh, sure thing, sugar,” she beamed at him, before leaning towards you to not-so-quietly whisper, “You done good, hon. Your date right here is such a looker!”

Dean only chuckled lightheartedly at her comment. Suzanne sashayed away with a satisfied giggle, and you had to fight the urge to explode right then and there. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you right now.

You mustered up the courage to speak again, “He shot you a curious look, “What?”

“I…” you deflated. “You can stay at my place. I’m sure I have some clothes there that can fit you.”

“Sweetheart, I appreciate the offer but it’s not safe. Something could’ve come back with me, for all I know,” he leaned back against the faux leather. “I don’t wanna lead it right to you.”

“You’ll keep me safe,” you affirmed, moreso to yourself than to him. “And I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re comfortable and fed and not in a motel in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have your brother with you.”

He nearly forgot that you knew a lot about him because of Supernatural, scoffing a bit at your words, “What am I? A child?”

“No, you’re a hunter and I’m not,” you reminded him. “I can’t fight against anything that decides to break into my home, but you can. It’s not just about you, I already shot myself in the foot by staying with you this long. Granted, I thought you were some actor who’d gone crazy but—”

“I get it, I get it,” he took a deep breath in, cutting you off. He processed your words, feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over him. It was still risky, yeah, but he couldn’t think of a counterargument. You were right, you were a civilian and if there was something that came after you, it was unlikely you’d survive. “Okay then. You got a deal then, lady.”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, “Well then, I guess we’re roommates, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

author's note: and that concludes the first chapter of everything has changed! unlike last kiss, i won't be publishing all the chapters all in one go (since i'm still writing them), so please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! of course, reblogs are much always appreciated. see y'all for chapter two <3 p.s. should i start a taglist? let me know as well!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fem reader #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #jensen ackles

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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

Detention: Eddie Munson x Reader (One-Shot)

Summary: Eddie Munson never enjoyed detentions let alone the Saturday ones. But after walking into the classroom and seeing you sitting behind one the desks he doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for a detention in his life.

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Tags: fluff

A/N: Again, I tried to write something short and got this. Hope you enjoy! Also this is happening in a universe where Eddie doesn’t repeat his senior year or maybe it’s just his first senior year. I’ll let you decide.

Eddie Munson was by no means a stalker. His never-ending proximity to you was purely coincidental. Except for perhaps the strategic positioning of his car.

Eddie had become acutely aware of your existence in the fourth grade after having the pleasure of sitting two rows behind you in your shared maths class. Like most middle-school crushes, Eddie’s ever-increasing attraction towards you was not so subtly displayed in the form of incessant staring and longing gazes that—much to Eddie’s embarrassment—persisted strongly for many years.

But as middle school turned into high school and as Eddie’s hair began to grow along with his height (which apparently had no plans in slowing anytime soon) he found himself crossing paths with you more often than not. In freshman year your timetables were practically identical. In sophomore year your family had moved houses to one that just so happened to be on the same bus route as Eddie’s. And then, when Eddie finally got his licence, he quickly came to realise that the most convenient place for him to park was right next to the sporting field. It was merely a coincidence that it just so happened to mean that he also was always able to catch a glimpse of you during your track practices after school.

Whilst Eddie’s run-ins with you were never undesired and whilst they had led to a casual acquaintanceship to exist easily between the two of you, he was wholeheartedly surprised when he waltzed into his Saturday detention as usual only to find the very object of his desires sitting behind one of the desks.

Eddie halted abruptly in the doorway when he saw you, his mouth slightly agape as Dustin Henderson walked straight into his back.

“Stop being an ass, Munson. Move it.”

Dustin shoved Eddie forward as he stepped into the room, his eyes following Eddie’s. A smirk spread across Dustin’s face as he turned back to face Eddie.

“Well this detention just got a whole lot more interesting,” Dustin said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you say one word, I’ll murder you,” Eddie said.

Dustin only laughed as he made his way to a desk at the back of the classroom.

“I’m not joking,” Eddie continued. “I know where you live, Henderson.”

This last remark was said loud enough that it caught your attention as you lifted your gaze to meet Eddie’s.

“Are you in the habit of threatening freshman now, Munson?” you asked with a smile.

“Oh, you know me; ever the bully,” Eddie said.

And then Eddie, of course doing the only logical thing he could think of to ensure he didn’t embarrass himself in front of you any further, immediately ran the length of the classroom to where Dustin was sitting, quite unsubtly stifling a laugh.

“Is it getting hotter in here or is it just me?” Dustin questioned with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” Eddie replied before taking his seat and propping his feet up on the desk before him.

Dustin did not shut up and as he continued to tease Eddie two other students walked into the room. The first was Robin Buckley, another strange addition to Saturday detention that Eddie had never seen in attendance before. She walked into the classroom, spotted you and immediately took the seat next to yours. You smiled to her before the two of you began talking, and for just a moment Eddie found himself incapable of looking at anything else. The soft curve of your lips as they titled upwards, the shine in your eyes as you looked at your friend; all of it had Eddie’s breath hitching in his throat. But then Eddie’s view of you was obscured by a very tall and a very lanky figure.

Eddie looked up to find Mike Wheeler standing before him looking annoyed and altogether unhappy as he took the seat in the desk in front of Dustin and Eddie.

“This is all your fault,” Mike remarked. “I wasn’t even the one smoking in the bathroom. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Think of it like this, Wheeler,” Eddie said, taking his feet off of the desk and leaning forward. “You get to spend the next three hours in a room with two of your favourite people and then two other people that you don’t know. I mean what better way is there to spend your Saturday?”

“I literally hate you.”

Before Eddie could respond, Mrs Jones walked into the room, silencing it with her stern gaze. She took a seat behind the large desk at the front and observed the room carefully, her eyes coming to rest on Eddie.

“I’m glad to see you’re on time today, Mr Munson.”

“That’s because I was in charge of driving Henderson here. I take being a role model for the younger students very seriously,” Eddie responded, his head instantly turning towards you as you let out a stifled snort of laughter.

“Clearly,” Mrs Jones drawled sarcastically. “There’s a few new faces in here today so I suppose I’ll have to go over the rules. This detention runs for three hours and it is mandatory that you stay for the whole time. You are allowed to complete homework in this time, but any other activity is prohibited. Talking is also prohibited. If you need to ask me a question or use the bathroom than put your hand up. Do I make myself clear?”

The room responded with a series of nods.

“Good. Get to work.”

The room remained mostly silent, the only noise stemming from those who were fishing their schoolwork from their bags. Eddie, however, made no such attempt and instead replanted his feet upon the desk and leaned back in his chair.

“Did you not bring anything to do?” Mike whispered.

“There’s no need. Mrs Jones usually falls asleep about 15 minutes in. Give it some time and we’ll be able to do what we want.”

Mike rolled his eyes in response.

But then, sure enough, 15 minutes later Mrs Jones was snoring away, loud enough to catch the attention of you and Robin.

“Should we wake her up?” Robin asked you.

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie interjected before you could respond. “These detentions are only bearable when she’s asleep. Trust me.” Eddie, slightly embarrassed from his outburst, averted his gaze from yours.

“Seems like you have a lot of experience with Saturday detentions.”

Eddie glanced back towards you, a smirk now plastered to his features. “Oh, trust me, I’m the school’s resident expert, baby.”

The last word slipped from Eddie’s mouth seemingly of its own volition, Eddie’s eyes going wide as he registered what he had just called you. Mike and Dustin quietly snorted as they watched Eddie’s discomfort with great pleasure.

You didn’t respond, instead turning your head so that you were facing Robin once more. Eddie could have sworn he saw a hint of a blush creep onto your cheeks but instantly disregarded it as a trick of the lights.

“You should go and talk to her,” Dustin whispered.

“And what the hell would I say?” Eddie scoffed.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe something along the lines of ‘Hi, I’m Eddie and I’ve been pining after you since the fourth gr-”

“Charming,” Eddie said.

“He’s right though,” Mike chimed in. “Not about the pining stuff. But you’re never going to get anywhere by never speaking to her.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad. I didn’t realise I was in the presence of the school’s Casanovas.”

“We both have girlfriends, actually,” Mike said.

Eddie laughed loudly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“We do!” Dustin proclaimed. “My girlfriend just doesn’t live in Hawkins so-”

“So she’s not real?” Eddie interjected.

Dustin punched Eddie in the shoulder. Eddie, dramatic as ever, flung himself from his chair and wailed in pain.

“Stop being a prick,” Dustin said.

“Ohh, Dustin, I’ve failed you as a mentor.” Eddie brought the back of his hand to lay on his forehead. “Resorting to violence. Goodness, what shall become of you?”

“My girlfriend is real, unlike yours,” Dustin said.

Eddie gasped. “How you wound me, good sir!”

“Well maybe if you stop being such a pus-” Dustin began before he was cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat loudly.

Eddie, Dustin and Mike turned their gaze upwards to where you were standing before them.

“Sorry for interrupting,” you began. “But you said yourself that this detention will go a whole lot better if Mrs Jones is asleep and you guys are being kind of loud.”

Eddie, who was still lying upon the ground as he looked up at you, unceremoniously scrambled onto his feet, quickly brushing down his hellfire shirt as he looked towards you.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” Eddie said. “Mrs Jones literally sleeps like the dead, so we don’t really have anything to worry about. Here, watch this.”

Eddie leaned over to where Dustin’s notebook lay atop his desk, grabbed it and tore a page off which earned him a cry of protest from the boy. Unperturbed, Eddie crumpled up the piece of paper and swiftly threw it at the woman sleeping at the head of the room. Several gasps of shock erupted from the room as everyone watched the paper sail through the air and hit Mrs Jones on the shoulder. Nobody moved.

Mrs Jones stirred slightly in her chair, but remained undisturbed.

“Are you crazy?” You said to Eddie in an aggravated whisper.

“Like I said, pretty much nothing wakes her up,” Eddie replied.

“Well, I’d rather not risk it if that’s alright with you.” And then you were turning around and walking back to Robin.

“What are you doing?” Dustin whispered. “Keep the conversation going!”

Eddie turned back to glance at you just as you resumed your conversation with Robin. He took his seat once more before loudly clearing his throat.

“So what brings you lovely ladies to my second home?”

Instead of answering, you glanced towards Robin as the two of you seemingly had a conversation with your eyes.

“There was…um,” you began.

“We had a disagreement with another student at the basketball game last week,” Robin finished.

“Hmmm,” Eddie replied. “Doesn’t sound like a good enough reason for Saturday detention. But whatever. Keep your secrets.”

Robin looked somewhat relieved at Eddie’s words.

“What about you guys?” you questioned.

“Oh well I’m a regular attendant here. But this time specifically was ‘cause I got caught smoking in the bathroom.”

“Well then why are Dustin and Mike here?”

Eddie furrowed his brows, unsure how it was that you knew the two boys.

“Dustin and I went into the bathroom to actually do our business,” Mike responded. “And then the next thing we know Eddie has a cigarette in his mouth and Mr Smith is yelling at us.”

“I always knew Mr Smith was a perv,” Eddie began. “I’d watch yourself in the bathroom, ladies. You never know where he might strike next.”

“Noted,” Robin responded as a laugh escaped your lips. Eddie found himself captivated by the sound, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

The conversation had seemingly come to a close much to Eddie’s dismay. But just as he was scanning his brain for any half decent conversation starters, you spoke once more.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to know where I can get any food around here? I had to sneak out of the house early this morning so my mom wouldn’t ask me where I was going.”

“There’s a vending machine a few hallways down. It doesn’t have the best selection, but I’ve figured out where to hit it to get free food.”

Dustin elbowed Eddie in the ribs.

“D-do you want me to show you where it is?” Eddie hastily added.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks,” you responded as you rose from your seat.

Eddie stood up, sending a glare towards Dustin and Mike before following you from the room. His heartbeat began to grow considerably faster the further that he got from the classroom and the closer he got to you. For most of the walk, he tried to keep his gaze fixated on the hallway before him, but occasionally found his gaze slipping to look at you as you walked. You were shorter than Eddie realised now that he was standing right next to you, the thought causing an image to pop into his head of you having to stand up on the tips of your toes to kiss him. A heat crept up Eddie’s neck as he turned away to avoid you from seeing it.

“That was pretty stupid, you know,” you broke the silence.

“W-what?” Eddie asked, somewhat confused.

“Smoking in the bathroom,” you clarified. “I mean you were bound to get caught. Surely there are more secluded places in the school that are better suited to smoking.”

“I’m sure there is,” Eddie responded. “But the thing that makes smoking cool is having people actually see you do it.”

You laughed. “I suppose that only really works if people actually think smoking is cool.”

Eddie gasped. “Are you saying that I am destroying my lungs for nothing?”

You laughed again and this time Eddie couldn’t help his gaze from slipping towards you. A lull occurred in the conversation just as you reached the vending machine.

“There you are, m’lady. Your very own Michelin star restaurant,” Eddie said.

You looked towards the machine as you pulled a few dollars from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Eddie questioned.

“Um…getting a snack,” you responded.

“You know, I wasn’t lying when I said I knew exactly where to punch it get free food.”

You stepped back and gestured towards the machine. “Well then be my guest.”

Eddie stepped up to the side of the machine and swiftly lifted his leg, kicking it square in the middle. Nothing happened at first, but after a few more kicks a Kit-Kat bar and a packet of chips fell from the machine’s clutches.

“That was the most graceful thing I’ve ever seen,” you said.

This time it was Eddie’s turn to laugh as he bowed deeply before you. You laughed before reaching in and extracting the items, throwing the Kit-Kat to Eddie who hastily tried to catch it. Instead of beginning your walk back to the classroom as Eddie had expected you to do, you walked to the lockers that sat adjacent from the vending machine, let out a sigh and slid down the lockers until you were sitting upon the floor. Eddie, not quite knowing what to do, joined you.

“Can I ask you a question?” you enquired, turning to look towards Eddie.

“Y-yeah, sure,” Eddie stumbled, caught off guard by your unwavering gaze. Your eyes were beautiful, he realised, so big and attentive in a way that made him feel so seen. Suddenly he was grateful for the Kit-Kat bars in his hands for at least it gave him something to focus on as he could feels his cheeks heating up.

“How have you survived all…” you waved at the hallways around you, “this?”

Eddie laughed. “Honestly? It beats me. Sometimes I just think about getting in my van and driving until I run out of gas.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” you said. “We could drive until we reach the ocean. You know I’ve never seen the ocean?”

We.

“To be honest, it’s not all that great,” Eddie said. “I’ve only been a few times but it was always hot and crowded and the sand just gets everywhere.”

You laughed softly.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Eddie asked.

“I suppose,” you said with a grin.

“Why did you get detention?”

“Has that really been annoying you this whole time?” you questioned with a laugh.

“It’s literally the only thing I’ve been thinking about.”

You chuckled lightly. “Well, Robin wasn’t completely wrong. At the basketball game last week there was this guy that came up to her and started making some advances towards her. Robin…wasn’t interested but he wasn’t getting the hint so when he started getting handsy I punched him in the throat.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide.

“And then I kicked him in the balls.”

Eddie gasped. “Y/N L/N! Resorting to violence! What would the children think?”

You laughed and Eddie’s breath caught slightly in his throat before he continued.

“I can’t believe my hatred for sports has let me down. I would have paid all the money in the world to have seen that.”

“Yeah well the teachers weren’t so impressed. I thought I’d get suspended, to be honest.”

“You shouldn’t have been punished at all. You were defending your friend!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Unfortunately Mrs Click didn’t see it like that. Do you remember how we had her for history in freshman year and she came into class that one time with-”

“-toilet paper stuck to her shoe!” Eddie finished for you. “That was honestly the funniest thing I had ever seen at the time.”

“Yeah, didn’t you get detention for laughing so hard?”

“Yes!”

And then the both of you were bursting out laughing, still sitting side by side as you leant against the lockers. The empty hallway echoed your laughter for some time.

A silence lingered between you then.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” Eddie whispered. You looked up at him quickly, your gaze locking onto his.

“How could I not remember you? You were the funniest guy I knew in middle school and then in high school we had all the same classes for a while and then we caught the same bus. Oh! And I always see you walking to your car after school since I have practice on the track field.”

Eddie was stunned into silence. Never before had he been so noticed, so seen, by anyone who wasn’t out to tease or taunt him. It made a warm feeling erupt within his chest as he looked at you. It made him want to reach out and wrap his arms around you. It made him want to cry. But Eddie refrained from doing any of those things, instead simply opting to continue looking at you.

You had a curious look in your eyes now, as if you were trying to read Eddie’s mind. Your head was cocked slightly to one side, your hair framing your face in just the right way so that it had Eddie itching to reach out and run his fingers through it. For just a second, Eddie swore that he saw your gaze flick down to his lips, your faces somehow having inched closer.

“I always look for you, you know. At practice,” you whispered. And then, as if just having realised what you had said, a vibrant blush crept up your cheeks.

“I always…” Eddie hesitated. “I always park my van near the tracks so I can see you.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly at his comment. The two of you lingered mere inches away from each other now, seemingly suspended in space as neither of you leant any closer. Eddie raised his eyes to meet yours, his breath instantly hitching in his throat.

“I wish we had stayed better friends,” you whispered once more.

“I don’t.”

Your brows furrowed this time, and Eddie could see the slight pain his words had elicited within you. He hastily spoke once more to clarify.

“Because friends,” Eddie hesitated once more. “Friends don’t get to do this.”

And then he was kissing you, closing the remaining distance until his lips finally crashed onto yours. There was no hesitation in your response as you instantly pushed back into him. The kiss was fast and hungry, the both of you not being able to get enough of the other as you panted into Eddie’s mouth and he moaned into yours. Eddie’s hands came to rest upon your waist as your own travelled upwards, one running through Eddie’s hair as the other rested on his shoulder. He tasted like chocolate, intermingling with the salt from the chips you had eaten. It was a delicious combination.

In the end both of you pulled away hesitantly, not wanting the moment to end but desperately needing to breath. The hallway was filled with the sounds of your panting, both of you never tearing your gaze away from the other. Lazily, Eddie brought one hand up to brush at your cheek, the skin so very soft under his touch.

“I’ve wanted to do that for…forever,” Eddie whispered.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the fourth grade,” you whispered back.

And then Eddie was smiling so widely that you couldn’t help but smile back.

The two of you remained like that for some time until finally you begrudgingly got to your feet.

“Come on then,” you said. “The others are probably wondering where we are.”

“Noooo,” Eddie whined.

You smiled, reaching your hands down to help him up. Eddie took your hands in his but instead of pulling himself up he instead pulled you down until you practically fell on top of him. You couldn’t help but laugh as Eddie began showering you in kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you locked against him.

“We can’t go,” Eddie said.

“Why not?”

Eddie’s smile faltered. “Because I’m scared if we go I’ll wake up from a dream.”

You leaned in and planted a long kiss to Eddie’s lips once more. One of his hands came to rest on the back of your neck but you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” you asked.

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Nothing. Why-”

“Well if we go now, I’ll spend all day tomorrow with you.”

Eddie thought over the proposition.

“Promise?” he questioned.

“Promise,” you said.

And then his grip was loosening from your waist, allowing you to stand once more. This time, when you leaned down to help Eddie up, he grabbed your hands once more and unfolded himself so that he was standing beside you. He let go of one of your hands but continued to grip the other as the two of you made your way back to class.

Halfway through your journey, you turned to Eddie with a wicked grin.

“What?” Eddie asked, not being able to stop the smile that crept up into his lips as he looked down at you.

“Race you back to class!” you announced before you pushed him backwards and began sprinting down the hallway.

“You little cheat!” Eddie called after having righted himself enough to begin his chase after you. You laughed as he closed the distance between you, managing to stay just out of his grasp until you finally reached the classroom. You skidded to a halt in the doorway, Eddie nearly barrelling into you.

“That was no fair you-” Eddie began before he noticed that the smile had been wiped from your features, your gaze fixated on something in the classroom. As Eddie turned to follow your gaze he had to refrain from letting out a groan as he came face to face with a very awake Mrs Jones.

“Did I not make it explicitly clear that you needed to ask permission before leaving?” Mrs Jones chastised.

You and Eddie remained silent.

“Well, since you both haven’t understood the meaning of this detention you can join me next Saturday as well.”

Eddie was about to groan in protest when he thought better of it.

“Take your seats right now before I give you any more detentions.”

The two of you did as she said, making your way back into the classroom

“So it’s a date?” Eddie quickly whispered

“Of course,” you whispered back with a smile.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #season 4 stranger things #joseph quinn #joe quinn #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #robin buckley

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