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eddies-house · 4 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village. Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter. Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter. The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic. Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span. Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together. It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous. Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece. A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot. And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust. It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around. Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year. Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet. They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had. This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry. It just didn’t feel right. It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick. You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings. Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo. To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky. You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort. Not as much as you’d hoped anyway. It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart. It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples. No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being. You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room. There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone. You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right? It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself. You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s. You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair. Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible. How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor. Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board. You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time. You set it aside and pressed on. It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips. Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter. Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life. Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear. Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling. The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness. Something well deserved. You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts. That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen. There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now. It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud. There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies. At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks. They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face. You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place. Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit. The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm. His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting. Do you act concerned and start begging the questions: Did something happen? Who’s injured? Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state? It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.” He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.

“Help?” You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur. “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.” He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze. He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather. It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.” You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut. The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy. Disoriented.

“Come inside.” You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process. “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out. Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl. The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes. They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.” He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading. You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you. He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes. And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.” You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep. He looked so lost. “Eddie, it’s okay.” You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.” He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I don’t know why I even tried.” He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper. His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger. He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours. Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.” He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes. He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm. Not meanly. Never meanly. More concerned. Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help. Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage. You’d never know you committed such a crime. And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate. All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this. If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.” Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread. Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish. The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt. Scattered.

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response. Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables. It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them. Instead–” You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom. “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows. Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player. And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him. He had his own collection now, sure. But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched. It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-” He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle. “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face. You don’t ask them. An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music. As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.” You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can. “And Sugary Apple Goo.” A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie. “Kind of a…weird duo. Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”

“Apple pie. The apple pie. At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.” You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.” He repeats. A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl. Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state. Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense. Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress. Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously. Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue. It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself. How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.” You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to. Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks. Not when you’re this kind. Not when you’re you.

“Okay.” He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.” You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving. But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay. And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish. Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags. Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?” Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat. His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.” A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish. So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans. He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss. In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.” You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight. It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of. Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.” He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open. And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!” Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room. She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates. Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected. In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard. The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo. Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything. Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately. Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter. Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.” She advises. “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance. They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets. When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him. There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish: One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got? Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.” Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.” He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat. Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?” You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.

“Oh, c’mon Eddie! You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.” Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder. “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven. Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”

“Sure.” You mumble. “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.” She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen. “But don’t go too crazy.” She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?” You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no. I’m good.” A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being. Prying wasn’t going to help. “”M gonna get a beer.” He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare. Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine. The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.

And then-they were all over him. Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features. It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed. His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!” One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!” Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.” A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room. You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.” Donnie interjects. “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!” She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.” You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.” Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral. Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing. Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.” Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.” You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.” He jokes, taking a swig of his beer. “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!” You defend. “We were a hot mess.” You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.” Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him. “What-”

“That’s okay.” You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best. Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.

“Actually-it’s not.” You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment. Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.

“What?” Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.” You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?” Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation. The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason. It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality. You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar. And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless. Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him. But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation? His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations. You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now. It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words. Only an expectant look. Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel. And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself. The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving. To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it. A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan. He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi. Stop following me around.” He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips. There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface. You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh. It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter. A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!” Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation. “I don’t have a jacket for you this time. Learn how to dress for the cold.” He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.

“I don’t!” You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world. Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him. You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation. You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.” A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail. His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you. Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.” You chirp. “We’ll taste all the wines. C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry. Drunk eating is the best.” You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now. He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood. Let’s go.”

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know. But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown. Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house. The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home. You think someone else could give you a ride back?” The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth. But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him. A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way. No one wanted him in that way.

“What?” You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for. “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow. He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that. And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity. If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth. Trailer trash. A nobody. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi. You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you. You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!” You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is. “Can’t figure me out. What about you?! You’re the one no one can figure out!”

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense. Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” He states simply, monotone. It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough. If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah? Because you don’t wanna let people in?!” Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften. “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals! How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?! What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!” He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity. “No, seriously! I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying! I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!” He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest. It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up. Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.

“I wanted to. I want to.” Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out. He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in. You refuse to let him.

“Yes. Eddie–look at me!” You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him. He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears. You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that. Please.” You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent. The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth. Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in. Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.” He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what? You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you. And for what? It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you. You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged. And that is not something you wanted. You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it. No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever. Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!” Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any. That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!” You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse. “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone. Not on Thanksgiving.” Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face. He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him. The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over. Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low. Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand. If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck. Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar. His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open. Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe. You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move. As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.

“Stay.” You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred. He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much. You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.” You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat. With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck. A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly. The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime. If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold. Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up. And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire. Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone. And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would. Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson. It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him. He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you. And if you both got sick, so be it. A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated. His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so. His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features. Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it.

“Can I–can I kiss you?” He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place. But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.

“Please.” You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours. He’s slow with it, taking his time. As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.

“I can’t stop.” He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.” You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him. Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.” His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.” You protest against your better judgment. It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house. A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him. Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose? Snotty?” He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #smoke signals #eddie munson au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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eulalielatibule · 4 months

Text

Pine-ing For You

Pairing: Soft!Roommate!Ransom x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas, some swearing, fake dating, there was only one bed.

Summary: You bring your roommate, Ransom, to your family's Christmas celebration.

A/N: This is a repost from my old account, @/hevans-angel. It's probably my favorite Ransom fic I've written so I wanted to get it out for this holiday season! Merry Christmas everyone!

You had known Ransom Drysdale for many years, since you both were in diapers. It was safe to say you two were good friends, despite Ransom being… Well, Ransom. You practically knew everything about him.

Practically.

Since letting him move in with you after he was cut from Harlan’s inheritance, however, you discovered the biggest plot twist of all plot twists:

Hugh Ransom Drysdale loved Christmas.

Like, love loved.

As in, the man who gagged at those commercials of families getting together and being wholesome was also the person that put up the Christmas decorations at 12 am on November 1st.

You didn’t mind though, it was nice seeing him enjoy himself for a change; you had never seen him smile so much before, it was sweet. You almost told him he should smile more often but you didn’t want to run the risk of getting him all embarrassed so he’d stop.

Instead, you listened as he sang Christmas songs- his favorite was Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, and he changed the lyrics so that Walt got run over- and helped him bake those little sugar cookies that had Christmas trees and snowmen on them.

You even put up with him whenever you just so happened to be standing underneath the mistletoe. He'd kissed your cheek and you’d kiss his, and when you'd pull back he'd be smirking.

One time when you both were drunkenly singing All I Want for Christmas is You, he pulled you over to the plant hanging from the ceiling and kissed you straight on the mouth. It was a chaste, puckered lips type of kiss and yet it still made your heart flutter from excitement. You both carried on as if nothing happened, never brought it up when you were sober.

You eventually decided the incident was merely drunken shenanigans and nothing more, although a part of you wanted to feel his plush lips against yours again.

When you asked him to join you at your family’s annual Christmas party, you weren’t surprised that he said yes. In fact, he seemed excited to go. He had told you that Harlan always threw these big holiday parties at his mansion, but they always ended in fights and Ransom running off to the nearest bar so he could drown his issues in the first woman he saw.

Not this year, though. This year you promised him it was going to be good. You had a small family, so really it was only going to be you, your mom, your dad, and your siblings. Maybe grandparents too if they could stop by.

“The only thing is,” you started, “I kinda need to lie and say we’re dating.” Ransom’s eyebrow quirked up, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to go out with me all you had to do was ask,” he quipped, causing you to scoff playfully and lightly shove his shoulder.

“No, it’s just that if my grandparents show up they’re going to bug me about how I’m ‘getting too old’ and I need to settle down. I'd rather not deal with it this year." Ransom dropped a heavy arm across your shoulder and squeezed in reassurance; you felt like a ragdoll compared to his strength.

"Don't worry, I'll help you out."

🎄

Christmas Eve came along, and you and Ransom drove to your parent’s house. He insisted on taking his Beamer, but of course he had to drive even though he didn’t know the directions. It was in the next town over in a nice gated community. You were the youngest of the family, so when you moved out to pursue your career they moved from one really big and fancy house to a different really big and fancy house.

The man at the gate let you in and Ransom drove by each neatly decorated house; some had only lights, some lawn decorations, a few had next to nothing. It was to be expected though, seeing that mostly elderly people lived in the neighborhood. You figured it was probably hard for them to decorate given their old ages.

When he got to the destination, you both got out of the warmth of the car and into the cold Boston air. Your parents- or perhaps someone they hired- made their house look like a fairytale; Hundreds of white lights covered every inch of the house, giant candy canes acted as a faux fence around the front lawn and two nutcrackers stood guard at the base of the porch. It looked even more magical with the light dusting of snow covering the ground.

“Wow, do they do this every year?” Ransom asked as he carefully climbed the stairs. He extended his hand to you, and when you didn’t take it he glanced over his shoulder. “C’mon, we're dating. Couples hold hands, sweetheart.” He smirked and you huffed a laugh, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the stairs.

“Thank you. Yeah, they love decorating for the holidays. The inside is probably going to be even better.” After a knock to the door, you heard some busting from inside before your dad opened it with a big smile.

"Hey you two! Merry Christmas!" He hugged you and kissed your head before turning to Ransom. "How are you feeling being away from your family for Christmas?" Ransom shrugged, taking his sunglasses off.

"Honestly? Relieved. I don't have to deal with their bullshit. Thank you for letting me join you guys." Your family, parents in particular, loved Ransom. They found him charming and his comments on his family always made them laugh, because who could disagree? The Drysdales and the Thrombeys were horrible. Everyone that knew them would say that. Ransom had his moments, but since moving in with you he had improved a lot.

“Don’t mention it. Come on it,” your dad stepped aside and you and Ransom went into the house. Just as you expected, it was decorated beautifully. A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner next to the fireplace, said fireplace lit up and had stockings already hung up. There were dozens of presents underneath the tree, and sparkling multi-colored lights adorned the entire room.

“The turkey should be ready in an hour. You two get comfy.” Ransom went over to the fireplace and blinked in surprise.

“One of these has my name on it.”

“Well yeah. Seeing that we’re spending the night here, why wouldn’t they get you a stocking?” You stood beside him. Ransom’s was knitted with red yarn and on the white, fluffy cuff was embroidered “Hugh” in gold colored thread. They never liked calling him Ransom, your mom said the name “sounded too mean.” Yours was next to his, all white. The yarn had silver threads laced in it, and your name was embroidered in silver.

“Do they get stockings for anyone who comes over?” He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, in fact he was the opposite of that. He just couldn’t believe someone would go through the trouble of doing that. As if you could sense that, you wrapped your arms around his torso from behind and hugged him.

“Face it, Ransom. We love you.” You grinned and he offered a small smile back.

“Finally admitting it, huh?” He turned around in your grasp. You felt your face heat up just a little as you shrugged nonchalantly.

“You know how I feel about you. You’re my best friend.” Ransom looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he kissed your forehead and sighed.

“You’re mine too.”

🎄

The party ended up going very well. Turns out pretending to be Ransom’s girlfriend wasn’t all that hard. You two pretty much acted normally, but there was extra hand holding, snuggling, and kissing. Lots more kissing. Whether it was on the cheek, forehead, even the back of your hand. He never kissed your lips, which in all honesty disappointed you. But you figured it was probably for the best, seeing that you were already so in your feelings about him.

Everyone in the family loved him, as usual. Your grandparents said they were happy you finally settled down with a nice boy. They even asked if you two would get married. You told them to quit it, but Ransom butted in.

“I can say with 100% certainty that I don’t see myself ever leaving her side.” Everyone at the table aww’d. You looked at Ransom, both confused but you also felt like your heart would burst from the sweetness of it. He winked and took another bite of turkey.

After dinner you all played games and watched a movie. It was tradition in your household to watch A Christmas Story every year on Christmas Eve. By bedtime, your parents told you that you and Ransom would be sharing the guest room.

Of course, there was only one bed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined, laying down on the plush comforter beneath you. You had already changed into your pajamas, and Ransom was about to change into his.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” He said, even though he was clearly smirking. You glared at him and he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. C’mon, this isn’t a big deal. We’ve fallen asleep on the couch together before.” He tried to reason with you.

“I know, but this is… Different.” You avoided his gaze and traced the stitching on a suddenly interesting throw blanket. Ransom sat on the bed in front of you and took your hand, making you look up at him.

“Do you want me to sleep on the ground?” He offered, but you shook your head.

“No, I don’t want you sleeping uncomfortably. You can sleep up here, but… No funny business.” You pointed a finger at him, and he nodded.

“You got it. No funny business.”

He went to the bathroom and changed into his pajamas, which was apparently sweatpants and no shirt. Lovely. You groaned and rolled over so you were facing away from him. You felt the bed shift as he laid down next to you.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Ransom.”

🎄

Christmas morning, everyone gathered around the tree to open presents. You sat next to Ransom on the sofa, his arm resting on the cushions behind you. The position was all too familiar, and your face heated; see, when you had woken up, you found yourself snuggled up to Ransom. You were nuzzled in his side, his arm draped protectively around you. You had managed to wiggle out of his grip without him noticing.

Gifts were passed out, "thank yous" and hugs as well. You had gotten a lot this time around, and your family even got Ransom gifts as well. That made him tear up, and you teased him for being such a sap.

Your gifts to him were simple but you hoped it showed you cared. It was a few new sweaters- you knew he lived in them practically all year long- a cookbook so he finally had no excuse to help you in the kitchen, and a writing set.

You had found this beautiful leather-bound notebook and fountain pen set online and ordered it immediately. Ransom had been talking about wanting to get into writing, whether it was novels like his Grandad or something else. You also mentioned to him that journalling was a good way to get one's feelings out in a healthy and constructive way. He seemed keen about the idea.

"Y/N, thank you so much," he pulled you into a hug and kissed your head. "I love this. I'll write you little messages every day." He said it in a joking way, but the way his eyes lit up made you think differently.

He went over to the tree and brought back a candy cane striped gift bag, placing it in your lap.

"Open mine now."

You untied the string handles and took the multi-colored tissue paper out. Inside was a set of three glass self watering globes- the top was a sphere and it had a long stem extending from it that had a hole at the tip, which allowed water in and out; perfect for watering plants.

The best part? The globe part was decorated to look like a cat’s face. It even had little ears. You gasped and looked at Ransom, who was looking pretty proud of himself.

“These are so cute! I… Can’t believe you got me a genuinely nice gift?” He scoffed and looked offended, but you knew he was just teasing.

“Oh wow, thanks a lot. As if you don’t go around our house talking to your plants as if they were real-”

“They are real.”

“As if they could understand you,” he offered, to which you nodded and he continued. “Besides, ever since you made me take care of them-”

“I didn’t make you, you insisted on it. And it wasn’t all of them, it was one. And it was fake.”

“Would you stop interrupting me? Could you do that?” He poked your side, to which you squealed and wiggled away from him.

“Okay! Okay. Continue, please.” You raised your hands in surrender, making Ransom laugh.

“Thank you. As I was saying, I know this is a hobby you love and…" he shrugged as he trailed off. You grinned and hugged him.

"Thank you, it's amazing. Now, what else did you get me?" He chuckled and squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

"The rest is at our place. It's a surprise."

Once all the gifts were opened and breakfast (and about half the candy in your stocking) was eaten you all said your goodbyes and headed your separate ways. On the way home, you and Ransom stopped by a coffee shop. You got tea and he got hot chocolate.

As you got out of his Beamer you saw something sitting at the front door. As you got closer you noticed it was a little cactus that had reddish-pink flowers growing on it. The way the flowers were growing made it look like it had a flower crown on. Your mouth hung open and Ransom hummed.

“Looks like the delivery made it on time.”

“Oh my god! I love it,” you enthusiastically picked up the potted plant and held it in outstretched arms so you could admire it. Meanwhile, Ransom unlocked and opened the door, an eyebrow raised.

“Are you actually crying right now?”

“Shut up, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you stuck your tongue out at him, running to the living room to add your newest baby to the collection. He rolled his eyes lightheartedly as he sat down in his recliner.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I would have gotten you something more but seeing that I’m running out of money that wasn’t an option.” You scoffed and shook your head, ridding yourself of your jacket and mittens.

“Are you kidding? This was perfect. /You were perfect. Thank you for being so great at the party. It really means a lot.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, babe,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it. You turned to him and reminisced on the past month, all the fun you two had. It was the most fun you had ever had with Ransom, the most fun you had ever even seen him have. Growing up he pretty much avoided anyone and everyone during the holidays, which is why you assumed he hated it. Now you realized he just didn’t have anyone that he could actually celebrate with in a meaningful way.

Now you realized that you didn’t want him to feel that way ever again.

“What are you thinking about?” You heard him ask, voice low and face soft. You broke out of your trance before gesturing for him to stand up. With a groan he did.

“Follow me.” You led him to the fireplace and stopped directly in front of it. Ransom’s forehead was wrinkled in confusion before he followed your eye line to the mistletoe hanging above you. He chuckled gently.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one to drag you over to the mistletoe,” he put his hands on your shoulders, gently letting them run down your arms and settle at your hips.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago, when we were drunk and you kissed me?” You felt him squeeze your hips lightly before nodding.

“That rings a bell.”

Your hands ventured up his chest, feeling all the defined muscles underneath the maroon sweater he was wearing. One hand rested on his shoulder, the other the back of his neck.

“I kind of want to do it again.”

“To get drunk or to kiss?” Ransom spoke softly. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed over your face.

You answered him by pulling his face towards your own and finally letting your two lips meet once more.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x woc!reader #ransom drysdale fluff #my writing

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disappointmentofthefam · 2 months

Text

Love? Love. (part one)

(Andy Barber x reader)

summary- recently split from his wife, Andrew Stephen Barber, aka, Mr hotshot ADA daddy dilf, lives with his 14 year old son Jacob. All he has known since the tender age of 17 is Laurie, and their baby boy. Will his life change when a bright eyed and bushy tailed y/n moves in the house right opposite to his? More importantly, will it change for the better or the worse?

*contains adult themes, smut and age gap (reader is a senior in college, Andy is in his early thirties)*

Andy's sleep is rudely cut short by the whirring engine of packers and movers mixed with the commotion of workers walking back and forth, setting up the furniture.

His face grimaces as soon as he opens his eyes,

at seven fucking am on a sunday! fuck off!

Apparently-as he later finds out-a new family had just moved in the house opposite to his. From what he had heard from his best friend(and neighbor), Sam, the family had a son of around Jacob's age which was about perfect since Jacob was a shy kid and wasn't exactly Mr. popular with kids his age. maybe he would find a friend in the new kid

By the next weekend, Jacob and the kid, Tyler, were already friends and today Jacob had invited his friend to play video games together.

"Daaaaddd", Jacob whines, "Please don't embarrass me!"

Andy gasps dramatically ,"Are you ashamed of your old man!", he even goes as far as to clutch his chest, right where his heart is, "i knew this day would come, i just thought it would be fifty years from now when i am bound to a hospital bed and shit my pants every time i try to say a word with more than three syllables"

As Jacob rolls his eyes, laughing, the doorbell rings, "whatever old man, just behave or i won't buy you diapers when you're all old and 'bound to a bed'".

Tyler shyly greets Andy and the boys disappear into their boy cave. Andy decides to settle down for a movie from the comfort of his couch. He can already imagine what Sam would say if he found out about Andy's weekend plans

are you seriously wasting all that good-good on a couch? Let's go out man , find you a pretty girl, you need to get out of this 'grandma' routine

Sam wouldn't get it ,he was married, happily so, and had a baby girl with the woman of his dreams. "Between the two of those pretty girls, i don't stand a chance"- he'd say

It wasn't that easy for Andy to navigate the modern dating world, there were too many 'what ifs' and not enough 'why nots' for him to fall in love again

what if he's a one night?

what if he catches feelings and she doesn't? what if he finds someone perfect only to find out he's incapable of feeling love again?

oh shit, worse yet- what if he was a reboun-

His thoughts are interrupted by the ringing doorbell, jesus can't a man watch the godfather for the millionth time in peace?

"Hi, Mr. Barber"

Andy's breath hitches, "Hi there"

"I would shake your hand but mine are full", she giggles.

Andy's heart does a backflip at her laugh as he shakily reaches out to take the four tupperware boxes from her.

"I'm y/n", she gives him a sweet smile, "I'm Tyler's sister and we just wanted to thank you for inviting him over, god knows we needed the break! Teenagers, amirite", she looks up at him with those big doe eyes.

Snapping out of the trance, Andy invites her in, "Come in............uh",

"Y/n"

Andy's chest is filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling

Names are so intimate, Y/n, while he asks her to come in, Y/n, he asks her to sit, Y/n, as he brews her a cup of coffee.

Andy, as her eyes sparkle when she realizes the movie he has on, Andy, as she tells him she cooked all the treats she brought him tonight

"So", Andy strikes up the conversation as they settle on the couch, "i've heard that you tutor children?"

"Oh, yes, It's just to earn a little before i graduate, besides, my god complex is fulfilled while teaching people", she jokes.

Andy doesn't remember the last time he was so interested in a conversation that wasn't about work or crime, or both, really.

An hour later, they are way past formalities, talking about everything and nothing, as if they were old friends.

Her mouth agape, she looks at him in utter disbelief, "He got away with it?" ,Andy can't believe she's so engrossed in his work stories, Laurie had always told him to keep his work where it belonged-in his office.

"Tyler and i should leave now, it's getting late, mom will be mad if we're late for dinner"

Andy's heart sinks why did she have to leave

"Alright sweetheart", he says lowly, "it was a pleasure to have your company".

Y/n smiles bashfully 'sweetheart'

did he mean it? no way! he must have a thousand women worshipping at his feet, he's the fucking ADA, he's single, he's hot and don't even get me started on that smile-

Focus Y/n!!

Andy notices the hitch in her breath, the sudden tint on her cheeks and the way her shy eyes try to look anywhere but at him

a straight up filthy image crosses his mind-

you, laying naked on his bed, all spread out for him, whining as he sucked between your petals

you, closing your eyes bashfully as the head of his thick cock lines up with your wet, tight hole

he would have no qualms with slapping your face lightly, "look at daddy while he's fucking you open"

"look at me baby, look at who's making you feel so good"

he'd kiss your pouting lips, "my dumb little baby can't think with daddy's cock inside her, ca-

okay Andy, She's a smart and beautiful twenty-one year old girl, she must have boys falling at her feet, the last thing she'd want is you.

As she and Tyler leave, Andy can't help the stupid smile on his face

"dad?, you good there?"

Andy snaps out of the trance, "yeah kid"

"phew! With that shit eating grin, you almost had me convinced that you had shat you pants"

OH THIS LITTLE ASSHO-

author's note: heyyyyyyy girlies, i purposefuly made the first chapter short and vague so i can take the story forward as you'd like me to! Please do leave suggestions!!! nothing is off limits to me

#andy barber x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut #chris evans fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen #loyd hansen x reader

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generalhumancloudalmond · 1 year

Text

Favorite patient

Platonic! Yandere! Baizhu x Child! Fem! Reader

After losing your parents, you started living with your grandmother in Liyue Harbor. You didn't have a lot of money and you were suffering from an incurable disease, but even so you both were happy.

Your grandmother was already very old and had far from the strongest health, and you often suffered from pain due to illness. Death is hanging over your little house. However, neither you nor grandma saw this as a problem. You had no one but her, just like she had no one but you. That's why you didn't even worry about expensive medications. Since you're both destined to die in the coming years.

And everything was relatively good until you met Qiqi. You often met when you came to pick up inexpensive sleeping pills for your grandmother, and then on certain days you began to go for herbs together. Today was just the day. You and Qiqi were already at the pharmacy when you saw Baizhu and your grandmother.

"Mr. Baizhu, we can't afford these medicines, and Y/n and I have already discussed everything and decided..."

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand me, your granddaughter will die without these medications and I..."

"Grandma!"

You immediately ran up to her hugging her, your body hurt, but you were so happy that grandma felt better.

"And here's my favorite patient."

You and Grandma synchronously looked at the smiling Baizhu, Qiqi came up to you.

"Mr. Baizhu, as I said before, we can't afford such medicines. Besides, they are not for one time and they will have to be constantly consumed..."

Baizhu wants to start an argument with your grandmother again, but you won't let him do it.

"I don't want to start treatment either."

There is silence in the pharmacy and the owner is lost for a second from such a statement and looks at you in confusion. After a couple of seconds, he starts smiling again.

"Well, well, why don't we continue this conversation another time, it's late, and I promised Qiqi coconut milk."

Your grandmother nods in agreement, and you say goodbye to Qiqi.

"Good night, Mr. Baizhu."

"You too."

And after this incident that you tried to avoid Baizhu and Bubu Pharmacy. You received sleeping pills through your friend Qiqi, who wrote down your request so as not to forget.

"Sorry, Qiqi couldn't bring sleeping pills and painkillers."

"It's okay, Qiqi. Don't worry."

Yesterday you asked her to bring the cheapest painkiller they had, because the pain became too frequent and severe.

"No, it's just Baizhu..."

Qiqi took out a small notebook and started looking for something.

"Baizhu didn't give Qiqi any sleeping pills or painkillers because he wants you to come for them yourself. Qiqi thinks that Baizhu is worried about Y/n, just like Qiqi."

"Okay, I understood. I'll go to him."

You really came that evening to Baizhu. And to your surprise and disappointment, the owner of "Bubu" pharmacy was the only one here.

"And here's my favorite patient."

"Good evening, Mr. Baizhu, I've come to pick up sleeping pills and painkillers."

"Of course, just follow me."

Baizhu brought you to a small room and told you to sit on the bed. You hesitantly followed his instructions, while trying to explain to the man that you only need herbs, but he didn't seem to listen to you at all and continued to inspect.

"Mr. Bai Zhu, I only need sleeping pills and painkillers..."

"Does it hurt here?"

"No, Mr...."

"Answer honestly."

"Yes, a little, but..."

"I see, Y/n have you ever taken the right medications?"

"No, but I don't need them."

"Alright, please wait for me here."

He left the room, and you thought for a second to leave, but your grandmother still needed sleeping pills, and you need painkillers. Baizhu returned a couple of minutes later, in his hands he had a cup with some kind of decoction.

"You need to drink everything, otherwise I won't give you sleeping pills."

"We don't have the money for..."

"It's for free."

The doctor handed you a cup and you took it carefully, but instead of drinking, you just started staring at this liquid.

"Y/n, don't make me to give you this decoction by force."

Baizhu was still smiling at you, but there was a clear warning in his voice. Sighing heavily, you drank it all in one gulp. The medicine was disgusting and you immediately winced. Your head got a little dizzy, and the pain became less and you involuntarily began to relax.

"Well done, Y/n, you're such a strong girl."

You felt Bai Zhu's hands on your cheeks and he began to lower your head on the pillow, and you obediently lay down. You had neither the strength nor the desire to do anything, so you just watched the doctor. At the same time, he took off your shoes, put your feet on the bed, and then took a blanket out of the closet and covered you with it. The eyes started to close.

"To be honest, Y/n, I am very dissatisfied with your condition and, as a doctor, I will monitor your condition until you recover completely. As a result, you will have to stay here indefinitely. And now go to sleep, my little Y/n."

#reader #yandere #platonic #platonic yandere #platonic genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #platonic genshin #baizhu #yandere baizhu x reader #yandere platonic #platonic baizhu #child reader

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dingochef · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Not much, being ill, talk of periods, Jake Seresin being too fucking perfect, fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The double whammy of being on your period and having a cold puts a wrench in your plans to go out with Jake. He surprises you in the best way in showing how caring he can be.

I needed some Jake fluff after having to deal with finally getting COVID this past week.

Part of the Jake and Elsa Universe

Masterlist

Closed for Renovations

Jake: Hey doll. When can I pick up your fine ass tonight?

You: This fine ass has got to bail. Double whammy of lady parts closed for renovations and I've got a cold. You probably don't want to hang around this mess.

Jake: Is closed for renovations a clever way of telling me you're on your period?

You: Yes

Jake: Let me restate the question, what time do I show up on your doorstep with Mama Seresin's famous chicken noodle soup, chocolate, and other reinforcements?

You: You're serious?

Jake: As a heart attack or in this case a period cramp

You chuckle as you read Jake's latest message. You're surprised that Jake is all in on spending time with you while you're both sick and on your period. Most of your past boyfriends gave you a wide berth when Shark Week was upon you, some finding it "gross" or "weird". As annoying as it was, it was also an easy way to gauge the maturity and long term potential of any guy. Right now Jake was pulling into a very clear first place.

It's still early on in your relationship, a few weeks after the craziness that brought you together. New enough that you're still encountering a lot of firsts and navigating the intimate details of a blooming relationship. Your period being one of them.

You: I stayed home sick today, any time is good for me.

Jake: I'll swing by after work with ingredients.

You: Sounds great.

Jake: You're great

You: 🙄❤️☺️💋

With that settled you turn back to your cup of tea and trashy reality TV. Somewhere along the line you must have fallen asleep because you awake to a gentle knocking on your door and the TV screen asking if you're still watching. You sit up abruptly, realizing Jake is here and your house looks like a NyQuil commercial with tissues and every kind of tea imaginable strewn out on the counter.

Resigning yourself to the mess you peel yourself off the couch to answer the door and let Jake into the house. When you open the door, Jake is holding two large grocery bags filled with food and has his phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder.

He mouths,

"Sorry," just before he speaks into the phone.

"Yes, Mom, I got the fresh thyme, although I think Elsa has some growing on her patio. Speaking of which, I'm at her house…"

He nods agreeing with his mom on something,

"Yes, she is…someday, yes, love you too, Mom. Thanks for the help."

A small smile creeps on your face as you listen to the exchange between Jake and his mom, his love apparent for her. You reach out and take one of the bags from Jake so he can hang up the phone to come inside.

"Talk to you later, Mom," he says as he follows you into the kitchen.

Just as you place the bag of groceries down, Jake comes up behind you and gives you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"How ya feeling, El?"

"Okay," you respond, obviously congested.

"How about I get you another cup of tea, and you can keep me company while I make my Mom's literal county fair winning chicken soup," Jake offers putting the kettle back on the stove. You sit at the bar and watch Jake as he unpacks ingredients from the bags.

"County fair winning? That's still a thing in Texas?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He laughs,

"Yes, it is and it's serious business. My grandma is still peeved at her neighbor for taking the 'good apples' from the tree that grew on both their ranches and winning in the apple pie category, 30 years ago."

The kettle whistles and Jake holds up the box of lemon tea next to the stove in question. You nod and he prepares a cup of tea and slides it across the counter.

"Thank you, so do I get to know the secret if you're making it in my kitchen?" you ask.

He grins,

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. But you can watch."

With all the soup ingredients on the counter Jake hauls two last items out of the bag.

"I didn't know if you were a milk chocolate or a dark chocolate fan, so I got some of each," he offers, holding up two giant chocolate bars.

"Oooh," you coo, "What if I said white chocolate was my favorite?"

Jake grimaces slightly,

"Is it?"

"Haha, no. I don't consider it real chocolate and reserve it only for foofy lattes from Starbucks," you reply, his facial expressions easing.

"That's good, that could have been a deal breaker," he laughs.

"Gimme, please," you say, pointing to the dark chocolate bar.

"A woman of sophisticated tastes," he teases, handing you the bar.

"Don't spoil your appetite," he admonishes, pulling a cutting board out of the cupboard. He dons one of your aprons over his khakis. Jake prepares tidy rows of carrots, celery, and onion as he talks with you about his day.

Soon, savory smells are wafting through your kitchen as Jake pours the rest of the chicken stock over the neatly chopped vegetables.

"This is where it goes to the next level," Jake says, piquing your interest.

"Do you have flour, eggs, milk, salt, and a rolling pin?" he asks.

You nod and direct him around the kitchen.

He takes the flour and scoops out some into a bowl following it with two eggs, a dash of salt, and some milk. Using a fork, he stirs the ingredients into a shaggy dough. He sprinkles more flour on the counter and turns out the ball onto the counter. Flouring up his hands he kneads the ball for a few minutes. The way his strong hands and forearms push and pull at the dough sends your cold medicine addled, and apparently lust filled, mind in a different direction. You've never wanted to be a ball of dough more in your life right now.

"That has to rest for a few minutes. More tea?" Jake asks, smirking, as he breaks you out of your naughty daydream.

"Yes,..umm, tea. Please," you stutter.

"What are you making?" you finally ask as Jake heats up the kettle again.

"Homemade egg noodles for the soup," he answers, nonchalantly.

"Homemade noodles? Wow."

"I said it was next level," he replies back.

"That is next level. No one has ever gone to homemade pasta level for me before," you answer, in awe of this amazing man in your kitchen. Jake turns around from the stove and the kettle, a wistful look on his face. He walks across the kitchen and slides his hands around yours where they rest on the counter. He leans over to kiss your forehead sweetly.

"That is a travesty, because you are definitely worth the effort, you are homemade noodles worthy, El," he says, so earnestly it makes you tear up a little and laugh at the same time. (Which you can only blame on the hormones of your period only partially.)

"If I knew how to make homemade noodles I'd make them for you Jake Seresin," you say.

"My nonna would be happy to teach you, but you'll just have to watch and learn for now," he breezily says, taking the rolling pin to the pile of dough. You tuck the mention of his Nonna and presumably meeting her and what all that means into the back of your brain to think about later. He pushes and pulls on the pin, flattening the dough out to a thin layer before he slices it up into skinny noodles. Jake grabs the mass and slides them into the boiling soup.

"Just a little bit longer," he says, working to clean up as you wait for the soup. You watch him contentedly as you sip your tea, enjoying his form and just how comfortable he is in your kitchen wearing a frilly floral apron. A gift from Beth when one unremarkable boyfriend broke up with you because,

"All he really wanted was a housewife, not someone more ambitious than him." Beth had written in the card, "Goodbye to the bastard, be your own trophy wife." You smile at the memory, a reminder of how much your relationship with Jake is better than anyone before him.

A few minutes later, Jake ladles out the steaming soup and slides a bowl over the counter to you. Inhaling the wonderful smelling steam in through your congested nose it almost feels magical the way it opens up your airways.

"This smells amazing," you gush, happy to be able to breathe again. He sits down on the stool next to you, his body turned towards yours so his legs can tangle with yours.

You lift the spoon up, heaping with noodles, vegetables, and some chicken to gently blow on it, trying to cool it down. Jake is watching you intently and hasn't taken a bite yet waiting for your reaction. Finally satisfied that you're not going to burn your tongue, you take the much anticipated first bite and it is perfect.

A fresh burst of herbs, the salty savory stock, and then the buttery smoothness of the noodles are all perfect. You close your eyes, it's that good.

"Wow, this is so good," you gush, enjoying the slight blush and sudden shyness on Jake's face.

"No wonder your mom won the county fair."

"I'm glad you like it, eat up. It's practically medicinal," he urges you. You hum in agreement and savor the delicious soup, your appetite finally ignited for the day. You and Jake sit in comfortable silence finishing your meal.

You go to stand up to clear the bowls, trying to feel useful, when a familiar stab of pain shoots through your torso from back to front.

"Ahhh, shit," you groan, collapsing over your belly and crossing your arms. Jake stands up immediately, concern on his face,

"El, are you okay?"

You stand up, still grimacing,

"Yeah, fine, just Aunt Flo being a bitch."

Jake smiles gently and rubs your back,

"You've got a lot of witticisms for being on your period. You need some painkillers or a heating pad?"

The mention of a heating pad makes you light up with hope and then immediately scowl when you remember that it broke last month and you haven't had a chance to replace it.

"I've got some ibuprofen in the bathroom, but I forgot to get a new heating pad," you inform Jake, glumly. Jake's face lights up,

"I've got just the thing then," he says, rubbing your back one last time before he steps away and grabs the last grocery bag. He holds up a box of heating pad patches.

"I wasn't sure you had a heating pad and I've used these for muscle strains before…," he trails off talking as he takes in your face. You are definitely full-on crying, like maybe ugly crying, you can't believe this is your life.

"El, are you okay?" he asks, gently pulling you into his arms, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you sniffle into his uniform shirt, trying to avoid the ribbons, thinking those would be a bitch to clean snot out of,

"You," you add.

Jake laughs, his sense of confidence unfazed by your comment,

"Me, I'm what's wrong? What are you thinking sweetheart?" he asks, tightening his arms around you as he starts to slightly sway in a comforting way. Another gentle kiss to your temple makes you sob a little.

"How are you so amazing? You cooked for me, brought me two kinds of chocolate, and brought back up heating pads. I bet there's both Tylenol and Advil in the bag, too."

He chuckles and you can feel him nodding in agreement. You lean back and wipe your eyes,

"I'm just a little overwhelmed, no one's ever really taken care of me like this…wanted to more importantly. Like I don't deserve this. Oh my God, I'm so sorry for crying." Jake reads the panicked look on your face and pulls you back as you try to retreat,

"Listen to me, El. You are worth every bit of effort, every bit. You understand?" he asks, sincerely waiting for your response. You nod, not sure what to say.

"Not to disparage your past taste in men, but they sound like they fucking sucked. I can't complain that they didn't realize what a treasure you are, because I got the chance to show you."

You sniff, taking a deep breath to get your emotions under control.

"More importantly, you're the first woman that I've ever wanted to take care of, be there for you. Make you see your true worth. You make me want to be a better man, El. I love you," Jake says, earnestly his eyes imploring you to believe him. You meet his gaze and stare back into those intense green eyes for a few seconds before closing your own for a second to stem the tears.

"Okay, Jake. I love you so much. So much it overwhelms me sometimes. God, I'm such a mess today, hormones and viruses are not being kind to me today," you say to Jake wiping away the tears.

"It's okay, El. You're my mess and that's what matters. I'll be here to take care of you when it gets messy, always," Jake reassures you, his arms still wrapped around you. You rest your head on his chest, letting his love envelop you.

"How about this?" he asks as you look up, "Grab some Advil, wash your face, and I'll get one of those heating pads, some chocolate, and we can snuggle up on the couch and watch whatever cheesy rom com or trashy reality TV you want. I'm gonna change into some sweats, okay?"

"Sounds perfect, although you might regret giving me carte blanche over our viewing choices."

"Never."

The rest of the night is spent cuddled up on your couch with Jake watching Pride and Prejudice. Between the warmth of Jake's embrace, the Advil, and the cozy heating patches you fall asleep not too long into the movie. You're awoken by a quick succession of text notification sounds. Jake puts his phone down when he sees you awake.

"Let's head to bed, El," he whispers, kissing your temple. You nod sleepily and he scoops you up bringing you to bed. The last thought you have before you fall asleep again with Jake wrapped around you is that for a day that started kind of terrible it has ended up kind of perfect.

Bonus Content Jake's Text Convo with his Mom.

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer; Part 1

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The reader comes in from out of town to OBX with her family when she bumps into JJ (quite literally) at a party which spurs an awkward family bathroom situation and a 'get to know you' conversation.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of family death.

Song: "Bellyache" by Billie Eilish

A/n: This fic, by the time I post it, will have been two months in the making. I've been planning and writing it for about a month and I'm so happy that @tee-swizzle helped fuel the fire behind my passion for this character! I hope you guys love it, this is part 1 of 5.

The Outerbanks has always been like a fever dream.

Warm amber skies, pristine blue ocean waves, green grass and flowering trees, seemingly perfect people.

It seems that the tourists and the natives are all on the same page, just different parts of town come with different responsibilities and different roles in the socioeconomic hierarchy of the island. Some people get up to go to work their asses off all day, fishing, selling, participating in good, honest blue collar work; but others are trust fund babies, people who hit it rich and decided to buy a big fancy boat and a big luxurious house right on the water. Both are lucky to live there but there’s downsides to each, I’m sure.

My family is… different.

My grandmother was a family woman. She and my grandfather would chalk up the money to take us to Outerbanks once a year, sometimes every other year depending on if money was tight. My grandfather worked with gears- creating and selling them- and he owned his own business and made an honest living so he was proud to spend it on his family for a nice vacation with his wife and loved ones.

There were about twelve of us at the time; we’d all pack up our things and make the long journey down to the island with bright smiles on our faces and excitement bubbling in our veins. It was exciting- it was all I looked forward to as a child when school would come to an end in June. I just knew that if I counted down, made the two month paper chain, we would soon venture down to Nags Head to kick back for a few weeks.

When my grandfather died, the family went their separate ways and we didn’t go back on our little adventure for nearly a decade. It was heartbreaking to see my grandmother not even want to touch any of the money the love of her life left behind, money he wanted us to spend on spending time together in his favorite place, but it was just too much for her. And when she died and left a ton of money to my mom and stepdad, we knew exactly what we had to do to make both of them proud.

We had a trip booked within a month after the funeral, planning to spread both of their ashes in their favorite places on the anniversaries of both of their deaths, which just happened to be one day apart by a decade.

Since we’ve been back we’ve done just that, scattered their ashes (with permission of course) and celebrated their lives as a family; just me, my sister Katie, my mom and step dad, all together under one roof. We’ve played games, gone shopping, gone to the beach (obviously) and overall just had a great time like we would’ve when Katie and I were younger. There is this lingering sadness, it’s no longer a group of us, we’re no longer being corralled by my grandma and grandfather and I kept help but sense this silence that just swarms around us which makes the blue skies look a little darker, the waves a little more violent and the heat a bit more harsh.

“Are you having fun?” Katie yells loudly over the booming music, long hair whipping in her face as the beach wind blows against us, sending shivers down my spine. I should’ve brought a sweater.

“Yeah, I’m having fun! Just thinking about how grandma and grandpa would not approve of us getting drunk under the age of twenty one with a bunch of people we don’t know.” Katie’s head tossed back in laughter as she grabs my hands in hers, urging me to sway with her to the music and I let her with a defeated smile. “Like it’s not exactly the safest thing to do.” She gives me a tired, deadpanned look and she reaches out to smack at my arm, disapproving of my caution that I always seem to be stuck with, even in situations like this where I’m supposed to be relaxing and letting loose.

“At least we’re not like the rest of our family, they barely go on any vacations anymore- they’re practically hermits.” I chuckle, letting her twirl me under her arm as my skirt flows in the wind. She’s not exactly wrong- there are pictures all over social media of their bland life, going to their nine-to-fives before coming home and drinking themselves into a stupor. I think that’s called depression but we’re not for technicalities in this family. “Gran and gram would be happy we’re living.” I smile foldly at her with a firm nod, knowing that my grandma would’ve loved the women that my sister and I turned into. We’re free spirits, just like her, taking leaps, smiling at strangers (especially those who are rude or mean), and we’re trying our best to carry on her legacy the best we can, with each other.

“You’re right.” I fall into her arms, wrapping mine around her in a tight hug as she lets a sigh of relief escape her lips. “Oh that note, wanna do shots?” I ask, pulling a squeal of excitement out of her as she begins to jump up and down, clapping her hands like an excited child.

“Now we’re talking!” She cheers, dragging in glances from those close to us and I feel my cheeks growing warmer at the unwanted but earned attention. “I’ve trained you well, young Skywalker.” She yells as I walk away, my eyes rolling at her overall silliness.

I sift through the crowd of people, bumping into teens left and right as I try not to stumble onto my ass, and I can see the bar in sight. So close yet so far. There’s about twenty feet of sand and young adults between me and the bar and I can practically feel the cold steel but before I reach it, I feel a cold substance dump down the front of my shirt and a mess of blond hair in front of me.

“Oh my god, fuck-“ I look up at to see a blue eyed boy, probably my age, standing, shocked, in front of me with a wide eyed look on his face, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he looks square at my chest, or more at the red drink he just dumped down my bra. “You came out of nowhere.” Definitely should’ve brought a sweater. I’m still standing, surprised, looking at him with wide eyes as I try to think of what to say but nothing can come up but curse words.

“I’m sorry, shit!” I take a step away from him, going to escape and to deal with my awkward embarrassment elsewhere but the attractive stranger reaches out to wrap his fingers around my wrist seamlessly, pulling me back towards him as I gasp, hitting his chest with a firm thud. His eyes are kind and soft, hand reaching up in surrender to show me that he means no harm and, for some reason, I choose to believe him.

“Woah, woah woah- not so fast.” He nods in the direction of the bathrooms, silently offering to help me with the mess that he made and I take a leap of faith, nodding my head, allowing him to lead me hand in hand towards the bathrooms, away from the bar and my sister and the rest of civilization. Alone with a cute, random stranger… Maybe not the best idea to wander off with a random guy at a party but there’s something about him that just makes him so easy to trust.

“It’s fine, seriously, I’ll just go clean it off.” I call out to him as the noise from the party dies down and I jog ahead so I can turn around to look back at him with a shrug but he just looks down at my shirt and frowns.

“Let me help. I feel like a dick.” He pouts, reaching past me to hold the door open to the family restroom and I take one more look back at the party and, when I see Katie talking to a handsome guy, I decide to go ahead and step under the cute stranger’s arm into the bathroom without any questions. I hoist myself up into the vanity with a sigh, head thumping back against the mirror as I avoid looking at my ruined shirt, wondering how I’m supposed to clean up a red stain this big and have it actually come clean. “It’s my friend's drink anyway so I don’t care. I’ll get a new one when I come back from helping you clean up.”

“My knight in not so shining armor.” I laugh nervously with a gentle blush, watching him pull a few paper towels out of the dispenser before handing them to me and I try to wipe it off but to no avail, the red drink seeping further into my tan shirt with every wipe without care and I look up at the blonde with a frown. He looks nervous, biting at his lip as he watches me rub at the cotton.

“You know it.” He laughs awkwardly, taking the paper towels from me, wetting them before handing them back to me. “What’s your name?” He asks finally, leaning up against the wall in front of me, kicking his leg back to rest on the tile with a dopey smile on his face.

“Y/n. Yours?”

“JJ Maybank.” How cute. It matches him perfectly, his baby blue eyes and soft blonde hair- the fact that he’s so tall and handsome as hell- like a prince from a Disney Princess movie. Or maybe he’s more like the boy that the Princess falls in love with because he’s not a prince. “Nice to meet you, JJ Maybank.” I hold my hand out to him which he takes almost immediately, shaking it sternly with a bright, pretty smile on his lips. “Wish we could’ve met in different circumstances.”

“Nah, spilling a drink on a pretty girl is sort of par-for-the-course for me.” He blushes, reaching up to rub bashfully at the back of his neck, bicep tensing breathtakingly, and my brows pinch together in a teasing look of confusion, head tilting at him.

“Oh you have a habit of doing it?” I ask with a snicker, watching his face pale, his finger raising to point at me, stopping me before I can get the wrong idea.

“That’s not what I meant.” I giggle, slapping a hand over my mouth as he scoffs, reaching out to slap my knee. “Oh, so you’re funny?” He smiles sarcastically as he sends me a dramatic eye roll.

After a few seconds of silence, both of our eyes flicker down to my shirt once more to address the elephant in the room and we both wonder for a moment as to how we can clean my shirt or find another one in the meantime. It isn’t until JJ’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it in my direction that I realize what his idea is. My jaw drops as I look down at the shirt in my lap, not appalled at all but instead incredibly more attracted to him. How chivalrous.

“Take it.” He offers with flushed cheeks, leaning against the cold wall as I fight the urge to drift my eyes lower, seeing obvious and apparent abs in my peripheral vision as I desperately keep my gaze on his face.

Fuck me, please.

“Really?” I ask hesitantly, not sure if I should really just be taking a random person's shirt but I guess if it’s just out of the kindness of his own heart then… sure. He spins around on his heels, subtly offering me privacy as I slip out of my ruined shirt before throwing on his t-shirt that is definitely way too big on him which means it’s practically a dress on me.

“Yeah, it’s not shocking for me to be lacking a shirt.” His head tilts back so he can stare at the ceiling with a chuckle and- I watch him, the way his jaw elongates into an michelangelo type curve, his shoulders, his back- he’s just sculpted- after a few moments, I give him the okay to turn around. His pupils seem to dilate in size the minute he sets eyes on me, and I can feel myself flushing just from his heated gaze. Stupid boys and their hormones.

“So you’re from here? Obviously, that was a stupid question.” I scoff at myself, reaching up to facepalm but he reaches out, fingers wrapping around my wrist to stop me with a bright smile, almost asking ‘how could you tell?’ He takes a step towards me, almost stepping fully between my legs and I suck in a breath, trying my best to remember to breathe when all I want to do is just-

“Home sweet home, born and raised a pogue on the cut.” He shrugs proudly, arms fanning out as he bows dramatically and I give him a big round of applause which pulls a hearty laugh from him.

“I just learned that term not too long ago.”

“I was testing you, to see if you knew it. Most tourists don’t.” How could he tell I was a tourist? He winks, reaching out to pat the side of my thigh as he hops up onto the counter beside me, thigh pressing against mine and I suck in a much needed breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. What am I, twelve? Why can’t I just talk to this guy?

“We’ll I’ve been here a lot since I was younger so-”

“Honorary Kook.” He tips his hat to me with a shit eating smirk and he knocks me with his shoulder.

“Not a Kook.” I start but he cuts me off with the clicking of his tongue in a playful tut.

“You sort of look like one.” He sighs and, though I can’t completely tell if it’s a compliment, the way he looks me over, getting a good look before meeting my gaze, makes me realize he meant it in all the best ways. “Nice, expensive clothes, hell you can pay for the rental houses down here- that’s impressive.”

“I’m here with my family.” I huff, acting like that makes it any different but it doesn’t.

“Ah, a family of Kooks.” He says in a singsong voice but decides to cut me some slack by switching the subject after a moment of my defeated smiling. “Is that your sister you were with?”

“You were watching me prior to spilling a drink down my shirt?” I gasp, feigning shock as I press a hand to my chest, eyes widening at him as he suddenly flushes, face paling at his accidental confession and he nervously pulls his cap off to run a hand through his messy hair.

“That gave me away didn’t it?” He whispers with an awkward smile.

“Cutely, it did.” He laughs as I nudge him with my elbow, unable to maintain eye contact with him out of fear that I’ll explode from how damn cute he is. He’s so frustratingly handsome and funny and sexy- woah.

“How long are you down here for?”

“Three weeks. We got here a few days ago.” I offer, knowing exactly why he’s asking me and I feel overwhelmed with a new sense of excitement regarding this whole trip. Katie is going to hate me for abandoning her but she’ll understand when she sees him.

“Damn, well…” He pauses, hopping down from the counter and his bashful gaze stays focused on the ground. “Plenty of time for us to bump into each other huh?” His flirtatious offer makes me grin ten times wider, watching his hand reach out to take mine in his, pulling me back into him before I can escape from him, return to the party and not see him for the rest of the night.

But after this interaction, I’ll look for him everywhere I go while I’m on this trip.

“Guess so.” I smirk softly, reaching out to pat his shoulder with my free hand, not ignoring the dense, toned muscle beneath my fingertips. “You’re slick, I’ll give you that.” I laugh bashfully, looking down at his hand that still holds mine as I allow him to walk us towards the party. His thumb brushes gently across mine and I don’t miss the protective gaze in his eyes as he looks around, making sure we’re not only safe but that no one is giving us any eyes for us leaving the bathroom, him lacking a shirt and me gaining one. I can only imagine how this looks.

“I am a self proclaimed ladies man.”

“Self proclaimed huh?” I ask, brows pulling together teasingly. “I’ll back that up then.” He smiles excitedly then leans in towards me, lips brushing against the shell of my ear and I nearly trip over my damn feet at the feeling.

“I’m going to need to record you agreeing to that.” He whispers and I burst out in laughter, head tipping back as we reach the bar, his hand finally leaving mine, cold and empty, at my side.

“Hey JJ!” A pretty girl appears at our right about ten feet away and JJ pales and gives me an awkward smile before flagging the bartender down, ordering a quick drink before giving me his undivided attention once more.

“Shit I gotta go. Kie was expecting that drink like twenty minutes ago. Baby gets grumpy without her bottle.” He pouts playfully and I chuckle before motioning in her direction, feeling an evident pit in the bottom of my stomach at the thought of him possibly being taken.

“Girlfriend?” I ask nervously but he shakes his head with a wicked, devilish grin.

“Single.” He nods sternly, head tilting cutely at me as he asks, “boyfriend?”

“Also single.” I shrug, backing away from him slowly as he processes the new information, eyes swimming with mischievous ideas already.

“Alright… See you around Kook!” He sends me a polite tip of his hat with a teasing smile and, in return, I send him my middle finger and a wink.

“Not a Kook!"

#jj #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #jj maybank fic #jj fic #outerbanks series #jj maybank smut #jj maybank angst

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dokeythings · 7 months

Text

| hey baby, i think i wanna marry you | (dokyeom)

this is PART 2! :)

"you're getting really burnt baby" dokyeom says suddenly, noticing how your arm is in direct sunlight and turning bright pink.

you shrug it off as he keeps his arm around you, placing his hand on your arm so that most of it is covered. it's hot to the touch.

"let's go inside for a bit, i'll get you some sunscreen. i think my grandma is inside anyways" he says, standing up from the bench.

you haven't met his grandmother yet, but that's the one you're most nervous about. the grandmas like a big deal, isn't it? maybe you're just thinking about it too much. you stand up and follow him into the house, staying behind him as he leads you into the kitchen. his grandma is in there making even more food, even though there's enough out there already to feed a small country. it reminds you of your grandma, and for a moment you are a little calmer.

"hi grandma!" he calls out happily, meeting her over by the sink. she turns around and sees it's him, and brings him in for a big hug. you melt at the sight, seeing how much she loves him and is happy he's here. you have that in common with her. you stand awkwardly at the end of the kitchen, rocking on your feet.

"and this pretty girl must be y/n! i've heard so much about you" she says as she looks over at you, smiling sweetly.

dokyeom turns towards you with a soft smile and holds his hand out, indicating for you to come over. you take his hand and step forward, smiling back at her.

"well aren't you just a vision" she beams, taking you in as you shift awkwardly under all the attention. "you weren't wrong, she is absolutely stunning" she says, nudging your boyfriend. he notices your flushed cheeks and stands next to you, placing his hand lovingly on your back.

"thank you" you say shyly, still red from the compliment. "it's so nice to meet you. i've also heard so much about you, especially your famous cooking" you say, trying to initiate the small talk. she chuckles at the compliment, and notices you extend your hand out to shake hers.

"oh i'm a hugger dear" she says, pulling you in for a hug. you smile at the gesture, looking at dokyeom as you hug her back.

"i told you" he mouths, giggling quietly, as he had warned me a couple days ago about how she was a big hugger.

she starts to talk about the food she's making, and you politely follow along. dokyeom stands back and watches as you happily obliging to taking the spoon in your mouth and testing the recipe. he puts his hand on your back again, rubbing gently as butterflies erupt in your stomach. as his grandma turns to get something from the fridge, you turn to him thinking he's trying to get your attention.

"yeah?" you ask him, noticing his dorky smile.

"nothing" he answers, continuing to rub your back.

she comes back with a new ingredient and gets back to work, letting you help when you can. dokyeom has talked about you a lot to his grandma, and she knows how happy you make him. she already loved you before she even met you. he notices your bright pink arm, remembering why he brought you in here in the first place.

"hey grandma, do you have any sunscreen?" he asks. "y/n is getting burnt pretty badly out there". he gently touches my arm, showing her.

"oh poor girl!" she frowns. "yes yes it's in the cabinet above the sink in the bathroom".

he says thank you and brings you to the bathroom. the house is quiet as everybody else is outside, their voices quietly traveling through the open windows. you peek around at the living room area as you walk by, noticing that she has quite the eye for decoration, and countless pictures of the family all in beautiful picture frames. you smile as you take it all in. once you're in the bathroom he takes out the sunscreen right away, gently applying it to your arm as to not hurt you. you lean against the sink as he does so, just admiring him. he catches your eyes, smiling at you.

"how're you doing baby girl?" he asks, hoping that you're a little less nervous and having some fun.

"good, actually. everybody is so nice" you smile.

"they love you" he smiles, stating matter of factly. he leans in to peck your lips.

"i don't even think i'm being that awkward" you say honestly, surprised at yourself.

"well that makes a lot of sense, because i told you you're not awkward" he says, poking your belly and making you laugh. you laugh in response, sticking your tongue out.

"and, i'm really proud of you" he adds, holding your hand.

"thank you" you reply softly, kissing his cheek.

after he puts the sunscreen back you leave the bathroom and go back into the kitchen where his grandma tells us that everyone is getting ready to take a walk down to the lake. theres a little lake at the end of the street, one dokyeom has told many fond stories of so you are really excited to see it. you meet everybody outside and start walking, the two of you trailing behind a little. you take his hand in yours, happily swaying them back and forth as you walk. something about today feels perfect, but you can't quite put your finger on it. the temperature is the kind that feels like a warm hug, embracing you and cooling you off with a breeze just when you need it. there are no clouds in the sky, giving the sun the spotlight to shine down on everything it touches.

dokyeom thinks you couldn't possibly look more beautiful right now if you tried. the sun is getting lower in the sky, leaving a golden hue on your skin. your eyes sparkle when you look at him, the caramel brown being the prettiest color he thinks he's ever seen. he uses his free hand to subconsciously reach into his pocket and hold the ring, a habit he's developed lately when he's admiring you. he chuckles at you as you let go of his hand and run ahead quickly saying "this butterfly is so pretty!". you bend down to the height of the plant it landed on, trying to get it to land on your finger. to no avail, it flew away and vanished.

"it flew away" you pout, turning around to look at him.

he's stopped in the street a few feet away, smiling at your cute frustration.

"i'm sorry cutie, maybe he'll come back" he says.

you start to wall back towards him but he says "wait! stay right there!".

you tilt your head at him inquisitively, waiting for an explanation. he pulls out his phone and gets the camera ready, pointing it at you. he tells you to smile, so you do. he focuses the camera, cooing at the view. a rush of wind blows by right as he's about to press the button, blowing your hair back behind you. the sun is almost down now, leaving everything with a tint of darkness, but you stay bright as the sun. he's amazed by you, and that will never change. most of the others are already down at the lake, and its just in view. you hear them laughing and cheering, and then a couple loud booms. the colorful lights change the color of the sky, whizzing and cracking as they go by. you turn to the side to look at the fireworks, smiling brightly in awe at the nice surprise. dokyeom takes the picture, right as a beautiful red firework explodes in the sky, lighting up the genuine smile on your face. it's his new favorite photo of you.

for a moment you forget he was even taking a picture as you get so caught up in the pretty display.

"y/n" dokyeom says, smiling to himself widely as he waits for you to turn around.

this is it.

as you turn around, he drops down to his knee, watching your face the whole time. his hands get clammy, and his heart is beating a million miles a minute. you look so pretty right now, and he loves you more than he understands. you bring your hand up to your mouth, realizing what's happening. you really didn't expect this, but at the same time it is the most perfect timing.

"theres no way of doing this without sounding cringey" he says, laughing nervously as he shakes his head momentarily, reaching his hand into his pocket. "every single day since the day i met you i have been changed for the better. you are the other half of me, an extension of me. i love you more everyday even when i think i already love you more than anyone could ever love anything. i want to do this for the rest of my life. i want to wake up next to you everyday, and eat chocolate chip pancakes and cereal for breakfast and have you yell at me saying it's too much sugar" he chuckles at the comment.

you giggle back, realizing that tears have been streaming down your face since the second his knee touched the ground.

"you are everything that's good in this world. you have shown me what love is, what happiness is, and what life is all about" he continues, smiling ear to ear as a tear falls from his eye as well. he doesn't bother wiping it away. you cry harder at his sincerity.

"baby, will you marry me?" he finally asks, opening the case and holding the ring out in front of him.

you can't even speak, your lips are stuck in a smile and your cheeks are soaked with tears. you start nodding vigorously, before finally your vocal chords do their job.

"yes!! yes yes a million times yes!" you respond, not waiting another second to throw yourself at him.

he stands up from the ground just in time to catch you, spinning you around as the fireworks continue to go off in the back. believe it or not, he didn't even know they were going to do that. perfect touch guys, he thinks.

he places you back on the ground, keeping his arms wrapped around you tightly and proudly. he slides the ring on your finger and then cups your face, kissing you passionately. you kiss him back so hard as you are bubbling with overwhelming happiness at the thought of this being your reality for the rest of forever.

"i love you so much" you say, placing your hands on either side of his face.

he smiles, "god i love you so much too". he looks into your eyes for a little while, trying to comprehend the fact that he has the most perfect girl in the world as his soon to be wife.

the homemade version of the firework finale begins, making you feel like this isn't even real life. you turn around to watch them light up the sky. dokyeom stands behind you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. you lean your head on his chest as you look up at the show, the lights dancing in your eyes. you feel his heart beating against your head, smiling at how fast it is.

"i think this is the best day of my life" you say, tilting your head to look up at him.

you expect him to turn his attention away from the fireworks and look down at you, but he was already looking. you blush.

"good, because it is most definitely mine" he kisses your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. the ring looks much better on your finger than it did in his pocket, and now he thinks he has nothing to ever complain about, because everything he will ever need is right here.

#dokyeom fluff #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom fanfic #seventeen #dk #lee seokmin #svt seokmin #dokyeom #svt dk

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howlingday · 4 months

Text

Years Later...

Blake: (Writing)

Kid: Mommy, what are you writing?

Blake: These are memoirs. It's the story of my life.

Kid: What's the story of your life?

Blake: I dunno. I might do another draft...

Kid: Mommy, is fuck a bad word?

Blake: ...

Blake: Yes. (Doorbell rings) Come in!

Weiss: (Enters) Hello, Blake, and hello,kid~! Guess what Auntie Weiss brought for you~!

Blake: Weiss, she already has enough toys-

Weiss: (Pulls out gift) Oh, it's fine, Blake.

Blake: Seriously, I live in the biggest house in Menagerie and I'm still running out of space for them!

Weiss: You're exaggerating. Besides, I know for a fact that she doesn't have this toy~! (Hands over gift) I have a list, you know.

Blake: Is that the Wild Queen playset? Her grandma bought it.

Weiss: Why doesn't your mom ever coordinate with me?

Blake: (Window shatters) OH MY GOD!

Ruby: (Giggling) Whoops!

Blake: Ruby Rose!

Ruby: Hey, Blake!

Blake: I thought I told you to stop doing that! You could have hit my kid!

Ruby: Wait, you have a kid?

Blake: Yes! You met her!

Ruby: Oh yeah~!

Blake: Why are you here, smashing through my windows?

Ruby: Well, Ozpin and Maria said my eyes might be going, because I thought that window was wide open.

Weiss: I invited her.

Blake: Why?

Weiss: It's been too long since we've had a soiree with the old gang.

Blake: I hate soirees!

Weiss: I know. That's why I'M setting it up!

Ruby: Is Team RWBY getting back together? Let's grab Jaune and Ren and Nora do a big old adventure with them!

Blake: I already told you she's not invited anymore, and besides, didn't you throw your back out on the last adventure?

Ruby: Ah, that was three years ago! I'm all good now!

Blake: (Knocking heard) What?! Come in!

Yang: (Enters) You! Ruby Rose!

Ruby: Hi, Yang!

Yang: For the past three years, I've been seeing you going on dates with every boy you can get your hands on in the tabloids, and I want the truth!

Weiss: Can you even handle the truth?

Yang: Care to explain?!

Weiss: I don't think you can.

Yang: Because I introduced you to some guys, and you told the press, "Oh, yeah, my sister just loves hooking me up with her guy friends!"

Ruby: You do, though! Why else would you help me make more friends?

Yang: Then why didn't you phrase it like that?!

Blake: Hi, Yang.

Yang: Hi, Blake. (Back on Ruby) I've been getting messages and letters and everything else from all my guy friends and guys I've never even met, and every morning, Dad gives me this side-eye of sheer disappointment! Like it's my fault, or something!

Weiss: You know, you could use those guy friends, too.

Yang: Oh, please, Weiss, like you know anything about being a good sibling! Winter has pretty much banned you from Atlas, and your brother probably doesn't even know if you're alive or dead at this point!

Weiss: Nice try, but I call my siblings every month.

Yang: Yeah? I talk to Ruby every week, because I know for a fact that I'm not too busy to talk to her! And what exactly are you too busy to talk to them for these days? Killing Grimm- nope, they're all dead. Running the SDC- nope, your brother is in charge. Having a family- nope, you're just inserting yourself into everyone else's lives!

Weiss: Well, at least I have options of men and women to choose from. You don't see me getting asked for a hook up with my siblings.

Kid: Auntie Weiss, is fuck a bad word?

Weiss: Oh gods, did I just drop an f-bomb?

Weiss: No, sweetie~! I said flop!

Kid: Is flop a bad word?

Blake: She learned it from a kid at school.

Weiss: Oh.

Blake: (Lights flicker) Oh no...

Nora: (Rises from nothing) BEHOLD, THE ALMIGHTY NO'RA! YES!

Blake: No!

Nora: NO'RA HAS BECOME THE ONE TRUE ELDRITCH CREATURE OF THE WORLD OF REMNANT! Now you have to say yes to a date with me! Our destiny is written in the fading lights of the stars!

Blake: You're already married to Ren AND I have a restraining order against you! You're not allowed to be here!

Nora: FOOOOL! YES! NO'RA has infinite time to study law! NO'RA will crush your restraining order!

Blake: Vrbr Ktah.

Nora: Huh? "Go away-" (On fire) AGH! AAAAAAAGH!

Blake: THAT'S IT! EVERYONE OUT! GO!

Weiss: But Blake, we haven't ordered drinks yet!

Blake: I don't drink anymore!

Weiss: But I thought that was for the pregnancy!

Yang: Thank you for having us, Blake. (Everyone leaves)

Blake: (Hears knocking) WHAT?!

Pyrrha: (Sheepishly enters) Uh, I'm here because-

Blake: The sign says no solicitors!

Pyrrha: (Leaves)

Kid: Mommy? Is fuck a bad word?

Blake: Yes.

#rwby #dawn somewhere #blake belladonna #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos

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canirove · 5 months

Text

Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 18

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"What are you doing up and answering the door, Maxwell? Have you gone mad?"

"Ben?" June said, frozen in place while looking at the man in front of her.

"You should be resting, you had surgery a few days ago. C'mon" he said, lifting her in the air and carrying her to the sofa.

"Ben!" she laughed. "I can walk, you know?"

"I know you can, but you shouldn't."

"The doctor said I could move around the house. He actually encouraged it."

"Well, Dr. Chilwell doesn't agree with that. Is that comfortable?" he asked after leaving her on the sofa and putting some cushions behind her back.

"It's ok."

"Now?" he said, sitting down next to her and putting her legs on his lap, the injured one on top of another cushion.

"Now it's perfect" she smiled. "Thank you, Ben."

"You're welcome" he smiled back. "How is it going?" he asked, his fingers caressing her thigh but never getting close to the bandage.

"I'm managing to not bore myself to death and it isn't hurting too much, so we can say that so far so good."

"Good, that's good. Is that how you are getting yourself entertained?" he said, nodding towards the table in front of them.

"Yep" June smiled. "I used to knit and crochet when I was a kid, my grandma taught me. The other day when she came to visit me she brought me some yarn and said that I could give it another go, so now I'm planning on making the girls some beanies for the winter."

"Can I get one too?" Ben asked with a cheeky smile.

"Seeing you wearing a beanie I myself made would be a dream come true to be honest, because no one wears them like you do. You look so freaking good."

"I think this is the first time someone has complimented me by saying I look good wearing a beanie" he laughed.

"It is what it is" June shrugged. "Thank you for coming, by the way. And for the flowers."

"Did you like them?"

"I loved them."

"Is that why you posed with them?" he asked.

"It was one of the reasons."

"May I ask what were the others?"

"Well, I… I wanted to you to see them to show you that I still think about you. That I regret everything that happened that day between us and after."

"You mean when you slept with Mason."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Ben" June whispered, looking down. "I'm surprised you are here, to be honest. I thought you would be mad at me and act as if I didn't exist like he is doing."

"Oh, I was mad. When he told me what had happened I got so angry… We both were angry. I don't know how we didn't end up hitting each other if I'm honest."

"That bad it was?" she asked.

"Yep. But then we cooled down, talked about everything properly, and things have kind of gone back to normal between us."

"Kind of?"

"He doesn't understand why I've forgiven you" Ben shrugged.

"You… you have?"

"I have, yes. I spoke with Lauren and she explained everything to me. About your ex, about how he broke your heart, and about how all that has affected you. That made me understand you a bit better, and even though I still am disappointed about what you did with Mase… I don't know. I can't be mad at you anymore."

"That kind of is what happened to me when you explained why you bullied me. Once I knew the reasons behind it, hating you was more difficult" June said with a shy smile.

"We can't change the past, but we can work on not making the same mistakes again."

"Yeah" she whispered.

"Anyway, I brought you a present" Ben said, giving her the bag he had been carrying.

"You didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to. Open it" he smiled.

"Ok" June said, sitting up. Why were her hands shaking so much? Why was she so nervous? "Chilwell!"

"Do you like it?"

"A Kinder egg the size of my head? Of course I like it!" she laughed.

"Just try not to eat it all in one go, ok? I want you at the World Cup."

"Do you think I'll make it?"

"I already said it on the note that I sent you, June. If there is someone who can make it, that's you" he said, giving her thigh a little squeeze.

"Thank you, Ben. For everything. The flowers, the note, the egg, coming here today… And for forgiving me after I fucked up. Big time."

"Of course" he smiled.

"Can I give you a hug?"

"Won't you hurt yourself?"

"Maybe… I guess you'll have to come here and hug me" June shrugged, biting her lip to avoid smiling.

"Ok" Ben chuckled, laying down next to her on the sofa and hugging her from behind. "Are you comfortable like this?" he asked, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"Very" June replied, interlacing her fingers with his. "Just don't let me fall, ok?"

"Never. I've got you, Maxwell." Now and always, Ben said to himself.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 9 months

Text

Come Home: Single Mom AU

Blake: (sets serving tray on the table and pours two cups of tea) How are things back in Menagerie?

Kali: They're going just fine, dear. How are things here?

Blake: (pauses) They've... uh... been better.

Kali: Oh?

Blake: (sighs) The landlord sold the building to a new company, and they're raising rent. I can't afford it with my current job.

Kali: I'm so sorry, dear. (sips tea) ...I know this might not be what you want to hear, but have you thought about coming home? You and Kela can live with your father and I until you save up enough money to buy yourself a house, Kela won't be bullied at school anymore, and I'm sure your father can get you a job working in the liaison office.

Blake: (worries lip) If you had asked me that a few months ago, I would have jumped at the offer....

Kali: (arches eyebrow) Oh, what changed?

Blake: (blushes and tucks hair behind her ear) I... uh... I met someone...

Kali: (deadpans) Blake.

Blake: Let me explain, please. She's a wonderful woman. She didn't run away like other dates when she found out about Kela. In fact, she ran down to the flower shop to pick her up her own bouquet of flowers. She even let her come with on our first date. She's been so kind and patient with both of us, and Kela thinks the world of her.

Kali: Hmm... (sips tea) She sounds interesting. When did you intend to introduce this mysterious Faunus girl to us?

Blake: (sweating) Uhm... She's actually a human...

Kali: (spits out her tea) A human?

Blake: That's actually better than I thought you'd react (sips tea timidly)

Kali: Blake-

Kela: (entering the apartment) Mommy, we're home!

Blake: Hi, baby. You're home early. How was school?

Kela: I got a gold star on my book report! Hi, Grandma!

Kali: Hello, little cub, my how big you've gotten! (stares pointedly at Yang) And who is this you've brought home with you?

Kela: That's Ya- oops... Uh, that's Ms. Yang! She's dating Mommy.

Kali: (eyes narrow) Ms. Yang? Why do you call her that?

Kela: Because Mommy says I need to be polite and show my manners when talking about her around adults. When we're alone, I can call her Yang.

Kali: Really? And do you like Yang?

Kela: Mmhmm! She picks me up from school every Thursday, and helps me with my homework when Mommy's too busy. We all spend Saturdays together and go to parks or the library. She offers to make dinner those days so Mommy can have a break on those days.

Blake & Yang: (sigh in relief)

Kela: She's stayed overnight a couple of times too! I saw them wrestling on the couch one night when I went to get a drink of water. She makes the best pancakes!

Blake & Yang: (silent screaming)

Kali: It sounds like you like her very much.

Kela: (nods)

Kali: Does she make you happy?

Kela: Yes!

Kali: Does she make your mommy happy?

Kela: She's happier when Yang's around. (whispers) Even though she tries to hide it.

Kali: (laughs) I believe it. Well, how about you go to your room and put your stuff away while the adults talk for a minute.

Kela: Okay, Grandma! (gives her a hug, rushes to give Blake a hug, and finally gives a shell shocked Yang a hug before running to her room)

Kali: (sipping her tea) Well, Yang, you might as well have a seat. Now that I've gotten my granddaughter and daughter's opinion of you, I think it's time we've had a chat.

Yang: (shuffles over to the table like a zombie and sits down) Am I going to die?

Kali: Oh, hardly. I just want to formally welcome you to the family. I haven't had that much fun in ages. I think I'm already beginning to like you.

Part 2

#y'all I am so sorry for how long this ended up being #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #kali belladonna #single mom au #kids have no filter #kids say the darndest things

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strangerhottotties · 2 years

Text

Grease and Grunge Part 1 - E.M. and B.H.

Chapter Summary: You have your first date with Eddie. Billy finds out and you get into your first fist fight (kind of). I promise next chapter will actually involve the summer camp.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, kissing, grinding, these kids running right for third base, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, fist fights, Billy being a possessive douche but also kind of sweet.

Author's Note: I now have a clean house... and my wedding invites have been sent out soooo... Let's be more productive. Thank you guys so much for being patient. It's been a wild week for me and I'm about to go sleep like the dead. This was a little rushed because it's been nearly a week and I've had a ton of things thrown at me. It's not as good as I would like but I can always go back and edit it later.

Prologue

Eddie's trailer wasn't scary to you when you pulled into the driveway. There was a homey feeling. Nostalgia rising in your chest at the multiple trailers you'd grown up in throughout your life. A bubbling familiarity sinking into your gut at the relief that it wasn't some rich kid's house.

The phantom taste of hose water hit your tongue at the sight of it. Late summer mornings of orange sunlight streaming through your dewy windows flutters in your memories, and you smile up at the metal siding.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Eddie asks, turning down the Black Sabbath he'd turned up six minutes ago only to yell over it. His expression gives you hesitant curiosity. He was preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.

"When I was six, my neighbor, Mrs. Holdings - she would always bake pumpkin treats for the kids. This looks like her trailer. It reminded me of her overgrown garden bed filled with lily of the valley. The two springs we lived there; the whole park would smell like them for weeks." You hum, giggling. "Dumb right?"

When you look away from the imaginary garden, Eddie's eyes soften, and he sinks against the steering wheel quietly for a moment. When he breaks out into a laugh, his hands excitedly tap the steering wheel. "No, absolutely not dumb." He unbuckles and scoots closer to point at a trailer in your window. "Gerold, over there, he's an old World War II vet. His wife past a few years ago but she used to plant these big ugly yellow flowers to match the yellow on her trailer. I used to go sit down wind because in the summer she'd wash everything they owned by hand and the soap she used smelled like my grandma." The smiles you pass between you are filled with more breathless laughter.

"How often do you have cats out here?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

"All the time. I bet you're the girl that's always setting out cans of cat food for them, huh?" You shrug and give a guilty look.

"I love the purrs," you whine out and he scoffs. "My mom never let me keep any. Didn't want the mess, ya know."

Eddie nods at you, sighing. "Wayne caught me bringing home a possum once." Initially, your jaw drops before you burst into side splitting laughter. He jumps out of the van and heads around to open your side for you. "Come on, chuckles," he hums affectionately.

"How'd you catch it!?" You demand, hopping out and you look up at him as he closes the door.

"They're really slow," he offers. "I just kind of picked it up as it was hissing and then it pretended to die so I just brought it home. My uncle was convinced I was going to get rabies." You start laughing again, head tilted back. You heard the gravel crunch beneath his feet and fingertips brush up your arm. "You like that story?" He hums.

You glance up him, sobering at him standing so close. More of the cologne that floated around his van swims around you now. His brown eyes twinkle and crickets' chirp. "Yes, it's a very a sweet story." You admit.

"Yeah, girls love stories like that. Why?" He hums.

"Hmm.. that's a really good question." You bite your lip and squint up at him.

"Is it the personality? Goopy, lovesick things?" You offer him a shrug.

"I can see it, see you. Maybe it's me thinking of little Eddies," comes your response. It's when his eyebrows raise that you start to stumble. "I- oh, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, sweetheart," he chuckles deeply at me. "It's good to know I'm not the only one moving quick."

"What's that mean?" You squeak out, face flushing and you wonder if he can tell in the dark.

"Because this whole conversation I've been wondering if it's too early to kiss you." You let out a breathless noise when your back hits the cold exterior of his van. You didn't realize you'd leaned back against it.

"O-okay," you breathe. Eddie grins, leaning closer. His eyes hold yours with their intensity alone.

"You've got really pretty lips," he murmurs just before he presses his mouth to yours. His were warm, slightly damp, and soft. Eddie gives a softer groan when your mouth parts under the slow swipe of the tip of his tongue. It's not intrusive. You follow his lead, hesitantly tasting him back.

You shouldn't even be standing outside, even if it was dark kissing him. The idea is terrifying. But Eddie tasted like something you'd never had. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and... something subtle and nearly sweet. It was good. It was fantastic. It made you lean up against him and crane your neck back to press as close as you could.

It felt hazy and too warm all at once. Your heart raced in your chest at his slow kisses. A distant noise has you breaking away to look. A scrapping?

Red catches your eyes and your heart leaps into your throat. A girl, preteen and familiar on her skateboard is riding by, staring right at you. You recognize her as the one that rode to school in Billy's car. She rolled her eyes and sent Eddie the bird. "Get a room!"

"Move along, cabbage patch!" He shouts, waving her off.

"That's Billy Hargrove's sister," you hiss, hands clenching his shirt.

"Yeah? And?" Eddie demands.

"Can we go inside?" You whisper.

"Yeah," he replies, "come on in." You can tell by the weird look he gives you, that he definitely noticed the way you'd handled that little panic. You follow him up the porch quickly. His living room is the first thing your greeted with. "So, you got a problem with Hargrove?"

"Uhhh, kinda. Yeah," you respond. "He just... has kind of screwed with my head all year." That caught his attention.

"You know he lives like two trailers up, then, right?" Your eyes widen and you shake your head. "Was he your boyfriend?" He prompts further.

"No, he just... it's not a big deal. I just... I don't know - it's weird. I've never even been on a date. He just sits behind me in Spanish. Kind of a jerk."

"Okay," Eddie nods, "I get it. Do you... wanna work on the project?"

"Yea," you sigh in relief, whole body sagging. The project was neutral ground. The project you could handle.

"Cool, have a seat I'll set everything up," he insists, and you drop down onto the sofa as steps out. With so much happening in the last couple minutes you allow yourself to process, re orienting.

The whispers of Billy concerned you. Not the physical ones, just the ghost of his words haunting you. Brushing over your skin and leaving behind a slimy residue. All week long you'd had the same dream of him climbing through your window and you're unable to rouse yourself from sleep. You've been subjected to his nocturnal seduction every night for four days now.

This grip he had on you, somehow a part of Billy was even there for you first kiss. The idea doesn't bother you as much as you want it to. It doesn't inspire rage or even annoyance - instead, worry gnaws at your lip and the groinal response strangles you in its hold. The primal part of you that liked to ignore logic coos over the possession. You're unaware that Billy would even care this much.

Eddie trots back into the room. His dark eyes holding space for you. "I'll order a pizza," he chirps and washes away the gritty, dark streak Billy's hold has on your mind. The smell of his cologne floods you when he drops beside you on the couch and the spot in your head that's usually full of anxious Billy thoughts melts.

Instead of the rigid ice there is only you wanting to taste Eddie's tongue again.

"What toppings do you like?"

Here, you think, here you could find yourself for ages. Eddie's normal chatter had settled. Your entire project lay completed, filed away with stunning effectiveness. Objective complete, Eddie produced his horror story as promised. You half expected a show in his living room like he usually did in class.

Big arm flourishes as he gave personality and voice to each of his characters. A dramatic retelling of his epic tales - never dull, as he acted out some of these scenes. Witty humor and raunchy jokes sprinkle most of his stories.

Tonight, however, you think you like this way better. Eddie had tucked you into his side, arm twisted across your shoulders as his fingers stroked soothing circles on your arms. Tonight, Eddie didn't flop to the floor with his deaths. Tonight, his hair tickled the side of your face when you tucked your nose against his throat.

His cadence settled, he rumbled in an almost whisper. Voice low and rich, it was like the perfect pairing to a fine wine. His story crept on suspenseful tightropes.

His body was warm and with your belly so full of the pizza you'd both munched through your project with, you were completely relaxed. Especially when your ear pressed against his shoulder, and you could hear the racing beat of his heart.

And as much as you loved listening to his work your mind was floating dizzyingly above you, dangling out of reach of your fingers, replacing the empty space with Eddie's lips.

You can't help yourself when the little goblin that lives in your head stirs awake. Eddie's voice stutters when your fingertips stroke the fabric of his Iron Maiden shirt he's currently wearing. He tries to continue after a moment, obviously not minding the attention too much. You settle there for a moment, just memorizing the way it feels to touch him.

Don't peel that wallpaper, a dying part of you cries.

The voice between your legs is crying, though. It's seeped into your entire being. A bone deep arousal that's hard to ignore and makes your head spin.

You'd never noticed that his belt buckle was a set of handcuffs and wondered slightly at it. Your fingers stretch across a little lower, drifting over the planes of his stomach under your bold direction. "Eddie," a voice calls and it takes you both a second to realize it was you. He pauses, eyes raking over you. He had a dazed expression you didn't quite understand. "I really like your story, but you... you might have to start over." His eyebrows shoot up at your words, mouth parting in pleasant surprise.

"What, you getting a little distracted over there?" A grin seeps across his face, lazy and nearly sleepy. He drops the papers on the floor, letting the flip and flutter across the carpet.

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You gasp and lean forward, reaching across him. Eddie's snatching you around the waist and you squeak when you're being pitched back. Your hair halos around your head on the cushion as Eddie leans over you.

"It seems the lady would like a different type of entertainment, I shall deliver." Eddie's knee slots between yours as he lowers himself above you. Fire barrels through your body, humming with excitement.

"Eddie," you call quietly, and he catches your serious gaze.

"Yes?" The way he's staring at you is molten. Setting every nerve you have on fire, one of his hands braces himself up above you.

"I should tell you," you breathe out steeling lungful of air. Nervous for how he might react for the next words. "I like you, but... next month I'm leaving. I took this summer jobs so... I don't want you to get your feelings hurt."

Eddie bursts into this amused giggle that startles you. Not furious like he thought. "Wait," he gasps, "you mean to tell me your just wanted to go out with me for a date or two?" He laughs harder when you nod hesitantly. You want to flee suddenly, unsure how to interpret his response. "So, what was your plan here?" He insists on continuing, eyes glittering with something dark and dangerous. "Were you trying to just get in my pants?" He obviously doesn't mind the notion.

After a moment, you nod again, and his eyebrows raise higher on his face. "I just want to... try a few things... is that alright?" Eddie is stunned into an elated silence it seems, a daze holding him before he groans, and you can feel it run the length of your chests pressed together.

"Is that alright? Baby," he pleads, leaning his mouth down to brush against yours. He adjusts, hands roaming down your side. The silence extends, just you both panting softly as his fingers slide over your thighs. When his fingers drift, he leans to reach and secure them behind your knees. He finishes what he was saying as he draws your legs up to frame his hips. "How can I serve the lady, tonight?"

Leaning up off the cushion, you chase his mouth wordlessly, fingers fumbling for a hold on the front of his shirt. His heat seaps through both of your clothes. His mouth burns yours when he sears you with his kiss.

"I wore the skirt," you plead quietly into his mouth. Eddie's reaction is nearly violent.

His hips snap against yours and he grinds his jeans against your panties, hard. His groan threatens to rattle you. It probably would if you weren't arching and crying out at the sudden blinding pleasure.

"You did wear the skirt. Just like I asked you to. What a good girl, making such pretty noises," Eddie praises in your ear, rocking his hips into yours. It felt so good to grind your hips back against him. "You just want me to make you feel good, right?"

You nod furiously against the couch, eyes squeezed shut as he narrowly rocks his hips.

"Mmm, you deserve it."

You needed more friction; you decide as you throw your hips into his and grind hard. Your clit rubs jeans, and it makes you whimper pathetically. Completely lost to the sensation.

"I can give you my fingers," he pleads. "Or my mouth. Want me to make you feel good with that, sweetheart?"

"Kiss me, Eddie," you whisper. "Please, kiss me." He wastes no further time, this time the kisses aren't as slow, there's more fire to it. Eddie is more eager to kiss you so it's not as graceful as next to his van. Slightly sloppy, lips muffle moans as you tangle up on his couch. Continuously rolling your hips together on the couch in search of the friction.

Every kiss was getting hungrier, every thrust met with more desperation than the last as the two of your rutted against each other. The blind way you both tangled was proving to be a frustrating affair. More fire building low in your belly when you took breaks to catch your breath Eddie gasped dirty things in your ear, moaning as you felt the bulge of his cock rub against you.

"Eddie," you gasped out, tugging on his arms, "Can I please have more, please?"

He gives a stuttery groan. "Of course, pretty girl. Ask me anything just like that and I'm toast. Can't say 'no'. Like some kind of fuckin' spell." Eddie pushes himself off you much to your dismay. But your body starts shrieking in a different way when he slides your skirt higher with a naughty grin.

Your knees snap together without you thinking. You flush when he freezes and arches his brows up. "Sorry," you pant.

"Don't apologize," he responds immediately. No hesitation. His thumb rubs a soothing circle on your thigh. "Have I gone too far? Do you want me to back up?" You bite your lip and shake your head.

"No, just... don't laugh. It's just... my mom always used to say, 'Good girls keep their knees together in a skirt so no one sees up it'." Eddie's eyebrows bunch together, and he seems to think hard.

"Aren't you trying to rebel here?" He prods. "Isn't that why you snuck out to fool around with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" A sheepish smile spreads on your face. Slowly, you part your legs.

"As lame as it sounds, I really, really hate getting in trouble. It makes me physically sick." Eddie breaks into a grin above you.

"Are you sick to your stomach now?" You shake your head. "Good," he hums, "because you've been very, very good for me tonight." Eddie holds your gaze with his own very serious one. Like he was testing to see if that was the key.

He hit the hammer on the head. You give him another nod, an affirmation of epic proportion. Eddie's fingers move slow, mostly so he doesn't spook you. It feels so nice though. You let your eyes drift shut as his fingers slither up your bare thigh. "You're really wet," he hums letting his thumb swipe over the front of your panties as he passes. "Do you touch yourself?"

"Yes," you whimper softly.

Eddie groan stutters again. "Can I touch?"

"Please."

A finger hooks in your panties to pull them to the side. The cool air caresses you. "That's a pretty pussy," he promises, and he starts a knuckle right at the top of your seam and begins dragging it down. All of your noises up until now mostly revolve around panting, breathless little noises as you tilt your head down to watch him touch you. He looks up at you as his middle finger circles lazily around the opening to your cunt. You meet his gaze with fluttering eyes and then he sinks to the knuckle with his ring finger too and a violent moan rips out of your throat.

"Shiiiit!" You cry out, head thrown back.

"Gooood fucking girl, let me know how good I make you feel, yeah?" He pumps his fingers slowly, filthy mouth spewing. "So fuckin' wet. Listen." Around your moaning you can hear exactly what he's referring to.

You're legs shake when he curls his fingers into a spot you've never reached. "Ah! There, Eddie, right there!" He giggles to himself but abides by your request.

"Can't wait to hear you cry that on my cock. So tight, you want more? Let me give you more." A third finger nudged its way inside from the rest and your knocked flat. It's very nearly too much. Already a familiar tightening building. "Oh my god, does that feel good? Oh fuck, listen to that, baby? Has your pussy ever felt this good?" You can't even respond with anything other than pornographic moaning. Your legs shake harder when his other hand drops on the front of your pelvis, pushing you down against his rutting hand, his thumb quickly homes in on your clit and he's merciless.

You're loud. So loud it might hurt his ears, but it only takes a few short seconds of this before you're cumming harder than you ever have in your life. He gently rocks you on his fingers on your way down and as you settle like snow against his sofa, you think about the wallpaper.

It doesn't just feel like peeling. No, you set the room on fire.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You burst into weak giggles, lax against the cushions.

"Should I be concerned with how good you are at that?" He snorts into the air and leans over to kiss your neck. You sigh, tilting your head to give him better access.

"No, you should be elated that you have great taste and I'm good at it instead of leaving you high and dry." You give a breathless giggle as he rocks his erection against your leg.

"Let me return the favor?" You ask. Eddie leans back.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Eddie chuckles over at you, eyes dilated with his lust.

"I'll never turn that down without good reason."

You slide out from under him. You were drunk on the endorphins. Eddie sits up at your prompting and then his eyes widen when you sink onto your knees. "Oh shit, for real?" He demands and when you nod, he's shucking his pants and boxers down.

It takes you a moment because for the first time in your life you are face to face with an actual erection. You had plenty of advice from Nancy. You'd seen medical depictions but this... was more than you were expecting.

You weren't expecting quite so much... you weren't expecting to like the sight so much. Especially the reddened tip that something clear was beading up with at the tip. Veined and hard, you watched it bounce of its own volition and gasped in a delighted way.

"You like that trick?"

"You can move it?"

"Yeah," he snorts.

"That's cool," a genuine laugh has Eddie tilting his head back to laugh.

"If you think my dick's cool than I cannot compl- OH FUCK! You're really going for it!" He gave a strangled moan as your darted your tongue out to taste the clear fluid at his tip. It was a curious, dirty action. One with more innocence than he knew what to do with. You try to recall the tips Nancy had mentioned when you questioned her over spring break at Steve's pool.

Go slow, try to avoid teeth. Nancy said they weren't the most fun - something you did to get them off when you didn't want to go all the way. But this, looking up through your eyelashes at him, you can't comprehend how you're not supposed to enjoy this.

Because above you is a boy absolutely falling apart at the simplest touches of your mouth. His eyes desperate as you pull the tip into the heat of you. He's shivering with it. He tastes like salt and some kind of Eddie brine. Maybe if it was more potent it wouldn't be good. Maybe if you weren't so turned on by just the sight of his red cheeks and vulnerable expression it wouldn't taste divine.

It's sealing it to you. A searing heat burning the taste of Eddie into your mouth. He lets out this loud cry, head dropping back as he babbles when your head bobs and you lave your tongue across him. His hands are fisting in the cushions. The little moan you give as you sink your mouth further around him, slurping at the drool that threatens to escape your lips has him nearly thrashing beneath you.

It sickens you in a good way. Or a very, very bad way. Good girls don't shouldn't kiss on the first date and here you are, moaning like a whore at the knees of a third time repeating senior because you love how cock tastes evidently. You want a punishment. You need it.

A hand fists into your hair. It's not tight enough to hurt, only enough for you to glance back at him. "Holy fuck, do you like that?" You hesitate but nod around his cock, careful not to clip him with any teeth. Then his head tilts back again and he mutters something you nearly don't catch.

"God is a woman."

Should that line work? No. But it scalds your skin and suddenly your ravenous for his taste. You want to see how far you can fit him in your mouth. He's babbling and whimpering under the new excitement you feel. Good girls didn't matter when Eddie Munson seemed to think that your mouth was made for sucking cock. It sure as hell felt like it when he bumped the back of your throat.

Your hands reached out to touch his balls and he jerked up with it.

"Christ! I'm gonna fuckin' cum if you don't stop!" His hand tightened in your hair, gently guiding you back and forth on his cock.

Mom always said it was rude to talk with your mouth full, but Eddie Munson certainly didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to really appreciate the way 'Please?' was muffled by his cock. He let out cry similar to how you did, spittle flying as he arched his back off the couch. His cries sounded just lovely as something hot and thick spilled into your mouth.

It was a surprising flavor, not exactly one you hated regardless. Your automatic reaction was immediate, swallowing the salt back. Pride swelling inside you. Your cunt throbs weakly, crying for more as you try to imagine what it would feel like for him to be finishing beside your womb instead of your tonsils.

He flinches as you try to pick back up again.

"Woah, woah, shit, slow down! Ohhhh, that's sensitive, baby. That's so sensitive, right now. Just spit for now, baby." He gently pushes you back from his twitching cock.

"But I already swallowed it." Eddie's eyes fly wide in shock the moment your voice breaks the air.

"You swallowed it? Fuuuck," he whines, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Was I not supposed to?" You whimper in horror, worried about some miscalculation.

"No, no, no!" Eddie quickly mends. "That was just... crazy fucking hot. So fucking hot." Then he's sliding off the couch completely and dragging you to the floor beneath him. "You did so fucking good, a complete natural."

"Really? I was good?"

"Fuckin' perfect." Relief spreads through your chest as he sinks against you, mouthing at your cheek and jaw lazily. "I'll have to pay you back next time."

Tonight, when you fall asleep in a sleeping bag in Robin's room, somewhere around three in the morning, you don't dream of Billy. It's still the same dream, but this time it's Eddie. You meet him with an eager mouth instead of terror like you did Billy. It's a sweet dream.

Everything is perfect, you think as you close your eyes. The smell of Eddie's cologne and the vague scent of the bowl he smoked in the back of the van last night was a homey scent already. Two weeks, three dates, five classes you ditched, and you were already dreading the idea of parting with Eddie for the summer.

The tender touches, the stolen glances across the cafeteria, and notes left in your locker. When you dreamed at night, you dreamed of Eddie's lips and the wallpaper burning away. Flames licking up the walls around you as you lay unburdened and rolling in heat of them.

With no real project to work on, you mostly listened to Eddie strum his electric guitar, talked about music and made out. With his uncle working second shift often, the two of you often found that the other's mouth was a welcomed feeling. It was usually filthy, and Eddie's words were usually just as filthy as Billy's had been at school. Now, when Billy muttered quiet jabs at you, you were too busy of replacing the imagery with the metalhead to be as affected by it lately.

Billy had noticed, you think. You could see the growing confusion when you weren't hiding as much as you did before. In your own little form of revenge, you took Billy's words and use them on Eddie. Tainting those words in colors of dirty sheets and pot. Of goofy smiles and carefree tomfoolery.

It felt so endless, like this was how it always had been. Your friends liked it, despite they're teasing. Liked the gossip. Steve was eager to know about your reaction when you told Nancy how good Eddie was at 'making out'. He'd heard the tone and pretended not to listen.

Tonight, you crack the window on the van in order to listen to the crickets and the buzz of neon at the gas station. You're painted with bright blue and red as you peak an eye open and watch Eddie meander the isles inside. You'd turned down the Black Sabbath tape he'd jammed into the stereo when you both decided that you could spare a trip to the gas station to get snacks after he ate you out for two hours in the back of his van instead of studying for your AP Biology final your supposed to take tomorrow.

You cross your legs in his front seat, aware of the wet leaking below due to the fact he'd stolen your underpants like a degenerate. You could see just a hint of them peeking out of his back pocket when he'd slipped into the store.

A car squeals into the parking lot when he's checking out. You don't think too much of it. You don't look to see who's climbing out of the vehicle. If you had, you'd have dipped into Eddie's back seat to avoid being spotted. But the basketball team notices you before you notice them. You freeze when Eddie trots out with a plastic bag filled with snacks. He doesn't pay them much mind as he jumps into the van. But you don't miss the gawking.

"Shit," you breathe, "we should get out of here."

"Already, ready to go again?"

"Half the basketball team just spotted us." Eddie throws you a casual shrug.

"Could be any girl hanging out with me. Definitely not you." You crack a small smile at his reassurance, and he gets ready to pull away. But you look back and your gut turns. Something not sitting right with you. The group of students in varsity gear are lingering on the edge of the sidewalk. One student with brassy curls strides towards the payphone and your left with the gnawing feeling growing in your stomach.

The ride back to his trailer is short. Like always, you glance to make sure Billy's Camero wasn't in the drive. It never was.

Unfortunately, tonight it was. Fate was plucking its strings it seemed. "Don't worry about him, he'll leave for work here soon." You glance at your friend and nod before you both climb out. "Do you want me to take you home soon?" he asks as you lead the way up his front porch.

"No," you promise him, smiling and twisting to where he stands, shorter than you for once. "Not tonight."

"You wouldn't be suggesting what I think you are," he taunts, stepping closer.

"I'm not spending the night," you laugh, leaning onto his chest. Eddie had this way of making you feel drunk on his humor. Already sinking against his arms despite the nightmare that would ensue if Billy, just two structures away, could see clear as day if he just peeked out a curtain.

"Boo, you're no fun."

"I beg to differ," you whisper, and he grins, sweeping you down to kiss him, climbing up higher and backing you towards the door slowly. You bump your back into the door frame, lips locking tenderly.

The sound of an engine in the distance catches your attention. The loudness of it growing quicker than normal. Someone hits there breaks and it makes Eddie straighten in your hold. He pulls away as a green Chevy Blazer throws dirt behind it on the way up. Although you didn't recognize the vehicle, you certainly didn't feel right about this. Both you and Eddie are slowly drifting further across the porch to watch.

"Get inside," Eddie murmurs lowly. "Go, please."

You pass him a look of disbelief. "Eddie?"

"Please."

"No," you finally affirm. Eddie gives you a big sigh of frustration.

The car squeals to a stop, raining dust and debris down around it. In the front seat is Jason Carver. The guy that your mother had once mentioned looked like a respectable young man. When you finish college, that's the boy you should search out. He didn't look so respectable right now, stumbling out of his car.

His normally slicked back hair was falling in his face. There was a look in his eyes like he was coming unhinged. "HEY, FREAK! DOES CHRISSY KNOW YOUR FUCKING A WHORE TOO!?" Your mind doesn't understand the taunt.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Jason. Get the hell out of here before you get your ass kicked." Eddie snaps.

Movement catches your eye and when you affirm that someone's trotting across, their yard, you feel sick. Billy is slinking to his vehicle, not even looking up as struts to the driver's door. Maybe you had time to still duck inside.

"Is this what you do? You sell drugs to girls, and they finally lower their standards enough to fuck you?"

"Look, I have a job. That job is to sell. Chrissy bought pot off me a couple times, you got a problem with that, talk to her." Jason stomped up the porch to mirror the position you and Eddie had been in not even sixty seconds ago on his front steps. Your heart races as Billy slides in and goes to start the engine on his Camero. But you see his smooth moments freeze as he makes eye contact with you.

It all changes in that moment, because after a whole two seconds, he's climbing right back out and marching across grass.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

You did not foresee this going well. "Jason, go home," you demand. Both of them snap their attention to you. They get the terror of your expression and then you glance back at the guy twice either of their sizes who's nearly halfway there already.

Jason scoffs when he sees Billy, eyes glittering like something wasn't quite right in his head.

"Uh oh. It looks like the consequences of your actions are coming. See, Freak? This is why you stick to your own kind. Trash." Jason sneers.

"Get the fuck out of my face, before you taste your own blood," Eddie rumbles back.

"You're not going on that date with Chrissy."

"Date?" The word is plucked right out of your heart before you can stop it as Billy finally makes it close. He's not watching the two who are tense. It's only you.

Eddie meets your gaze, a conflicted expression. "She asked me out today." Oh. You gut twists with jealousy, but this relationship was never intended to extend past this month. The best by date blinking at you with bold lettering, just days away.

"Wait," Billy starts, scoffing, a stunningly cold look petrifying you. "I heard Munson was running around with someone. Has it been you?" he demands.

"See, the girls here are-" Billy rolls on Jason, snatching the back of his jacket to jerk him off the steps and onto the ground next to him. You gasp.

"Shut the fuck up, Carver. I didn't fucking ask you."

"Billy! Don't get violent!" You crack out, pulling his attention back to you. "There is not going to be any fighting!" Billy releases Jason's jacket and climbs the steps up to you. Eddie starts to slide between you both, but you push a hand against his arm to shove him back.

"Answer my question. Are you dating Munson?" He asks slowly. You tilt your chin up to defy Billy, feeling far less bold than you were being.

"No." Billy starts to smirk, looking like that panther all over again. The wallpaper had burned away to the studs and that sly fucking look made you want to smack him. You wanted nothing more than to knock him down a peg or two. The urge drowns you.

"But I did blow him."

The silence is deafening as Billy's smirk slips right off his face. He passes Eddie a look that's hard to read. He's thinking violent thoughts, you can see that. So, you step closer as he tries to slow his breathing.

"Uhhhh, I think that was the wrong fucking thing to say," Eddie mutters. You catch the horrified look from him at the taunt.

"All that talk," you toss to him, making those big blue eyes snap back to you, "Every. Single. Dirty jab you threw at me?" You promise, "I tried on him. I'm not just some 'Golden Girl' fantasy." Billy leans in, even on the step below you, he's at eye level. His words are even, cold.

"I'm giving you one opportunity," he starts with a near whisper. "If you do not start making your way across the park and into my car in the next minute, I'm going to pop Munson's testicles like balloons. Then you're never going to come over here again. You want someone to fuck you, you come to me, got it?"

"You know, what?" You start, squaring your shoulders and moving past him, down the steps. "Fine. But I will go celibate before I ever fuck you, Billy." Jason glowers at you. "Go home, Jason."

"What are you gonna do about it, whore?" He snaps back. Billy moves faster than you expect, in Jason's face before you can even react.

"You call her that again, see what happens?"

"She just told you she's been blowing Munson and you're defending her?" Honestly, it surprised you too. There was something about Billy in this moment that didn't scare you. It excited you in a way you'd never been. Yes, arousal, but more than that. You felt safe.

"She's mine. Regardless of what she's done, she's mine. And you insult her, you insult me." Well, that didn't seem healthy. Despite that fact, it sent blinding arousal through you.

"She'll leave you, just like Chrissy left me for him."

"Maybe because you're an impulsive dickhead." You snap. Jason leans down towards you with fury painting his eyes and you tighten your fist.

"Maybe it's because Chrissy is as big of a whore as-" Chrissy Cunningham was literally the sweetest girl you'd ever come across and the fact that Jason was running his mouth about her was more than enough to send you into a full-blown rage. Until the pain in your hand pulled you back.

That was when you realized you'd just decked Jason Carver.

He was swinging at you already and you were bracing for impact when Billy's fist sent Jason completely sideways. He looks to you, almost as if for confirmation.

"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend," Eddie hisses to you. Eyes huge.

"He's not." You say at the exact same time Billy snaps out the same time. You glare at each other mildly. "Oh, so you harrassing me in Spanish? That's what that is? That's some shitty dates." Billy rolls his eyes at you and you all glance down at Jason.

"Your hand. Does it hurt?" Eddie asks, moving to your side.

"My wrist," you murmur, holding up your hand for him when he reaches for you. "I didn't know punching someone hurt so bad." Billy doesn't even have to glare at Eddie to get him to give the space beside you up.

"That's because that was a shitty punch," he growls. "You let your wrist snap with it. Next time, squeeze your fist as tight as you can, it'll keep you from breaking it." Billy's fingers prod at your wrist.

"I'll grab some ice," Eddie grunts and jogs inside. You watch him go and then stare up at Billy, who's legitimately testing your wrist. You wince when he bends it too far and he stops.

"Sprained it, you'll be fine."

"Thanks," you murmur. Billy glances up at you, still furious.

"You get that ice, and we go. That's it. No more Eddie."

"He's my friend." Billy's hand sudden tunnels into your hair and he jerks your head back forcing you to look up at him.

"You don't blow your fucking friends." You had no rebuttal for that. So, silence fell over you both. When Eddie appears, you pass him a look and he passes you a hopeless one back. His apology clear on his face.

Billy snatches the ice away. "Get moving," he orders.

"Fine." There's no venom.

You just leave Jason Carver lying on the ground in front of his Blazer.

It's fifteen minutes into your lecture and the reality of the situation has sunken in. There's no way your mom won't hear about this sometime soon. You just pray it's not until next week, after you leave for camp.

You barely listen to Billy as he drives. Hell, you don't even think he knows where he's going at this point.

"I don't fucking get it," Billy sighs, dropping his hands to the steering wheel. "You've just got a thing for dirtbags, huh?:

"Excuse me?" You demand. Now that he's finally got a reaction from you, you can feel him sink his hooks in.

"Eddie a fucking dirt bag, so am I. You didn't even punch him until you heard him call Chrissy Cunningham a whore but not when he called you one."

"Chrissy didn't have anyone there to defend her."

"She also wasn't there to hear it."

"Well, Eddie is not a dirtbag and neither are you so stop it." Your words silence him finally and you lean your head back against the seat.

"What makes Eddie so fucking saintly?" He demands at last, seething again.

"He's pretty fucking good with his fingers for starters," you jab.

You lurch against the seat belt when he hits the breaks. "That's fuckin' it." He snarls and you gasp as he's fish tailing his Camero into an empty field nearby. "Get out."

You gulp, when he takes his own order and climbs out. You hesitantly follow, your shoes sinking into the softened earth slightly as you shut the door and follow him to the front of his car. "I leave in a week," you tell him. His head snaps toward you. "That's why I went out with Eddie. Because I'm eighteen and up until a few weeks ago I hadn't even kissed before! Because I'm the good girl! Always the good girl!"

Billy's right in front of you, teeth bared, eyes wild instead of dead. "My good girl," he snaps. His hands cup your face and drag you close.

"Billy," you plead, "I can't help it."

"Can't help what?" Confusion clouds those blue eyes when your vision blurs with tears.

"I want to be good so bad. I want to be a good girl but sometimes I just..." Your lip wobbles and you find yourself fisting his jean jacket. "Being a good girl. It's... it's miserable and when my mom finds out..." Your head falls back, and you take slow breaths to calm down.

"What's so miserable about being a good girl?" Billy prompts. "The good grades?"

"Because it's never enough for my mom." It's the stroking fingers that make you shutter. "It felt so good to do what I wasn't supposed to," you whimper. "I've been suffocating under everything, and I just need it!" You feel his hand drift down to pull you against him. Billy's cologne is all around you, making your head fuzzy like it always does with Eddie.

Suddenly, the tears are stopping, and the familiar pit of hunger is back. All of your worries and fears are evaporating like they always do with Eddie too. You can't think. You just feel. You feel hungry. You feel needy. You feel his pounding heart beneath your palms when you spread them across his chest, under his jacket.

"What are you doing, sweetheart? You're not getting yourself out of trouble with this." You snap back, aware that you were getting lost in those impulses all over again.

"Sorry," you say, trying to retreat. Billy frowns at your small voice. "I didn't mean... can you... can you just drop me off down the street from my house?"

Billy doesn't respond, too busy figuring out what was going on. The lightbulb comes on and he's moving you all at once to the hood of his car. "Fucking hell," is all he says before pressing his mouth to yours.

You whole body shrieks at the touch, falling right back into the impulses you were just trying to fend off. Instead of pushing at him like you were supposed to, you were dragging him into you. It was far more aggressive than it ever had been with Eddie. Billy tasted like mint toothpaste and cigarettes.

His fingers dig into your sides, as you work to pull at his jacket. He's quick to peel it off. When his hands land back on you, they're sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt up. Your bare cunt exposed quickly as he breaks away to peek down. It makes you wonder if your panties are still in Eddie's pocket. "You..." Billy takes a deep breath to try and stablize his breathing. "Your wrong you know," he hums.

You frown at him, brain too muddled to figure it out on your own.

"Sex," he hums, "it's natural. It's not bad. It's good. Even when your bad like this," he gestures with his thumb sliding easily through your folds. "You're still a good girl," he amends. "It's why I like you so much." The air is stolen from your lungs. "Way too good for me. I'll wait for you to come back."

His tenderness sends you into full blown tears, you don't have the mind to stop as he slides down over you, slinking away. It takes you a moment before he cocks your legs further apart.

Right about one thing, you think to yourself as his lips latch to your clit, Billy Hargrove likes to use his mouth.

G+G Taglist: @music-is-all-i-need @devilcherryhot @hauntingtherosebush @simp4mullets @theelephantroom4 @dumbmarvelchick @your-local-rockstar-simp @holyfanficbooksgeek @shittypunkbarbeque @psychoticbirb @im-bout-to-pass-otutt @sameyessblue @boopmedaddy @animeboystuff @santaatemypuppy @bdudette, @slutforbillyy

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I think something's going on with my tag list??? Did they change something?

#grease and grunge #g+g #g+g update #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fics #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader

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