#anyway I hope I get a burger later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hintsofhoney · 3 months

Text

Ladies With Experience

Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?

Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader

Word Count: 5k

A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”

You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.

“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.”

And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table.

The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you.

Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.

Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.

“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.

Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans.

“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”

“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”

You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.

Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel.

You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.

“I’ll get her,” Dean said.

Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.

“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you.

The question caught you off guard.

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

“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”

“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”

He replied with a knowing look.

You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.

You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.

But not this . You couldn’t tell him this.

You shook your head.

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.

“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever .

His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long.

“Was it something I said?” he prodded.

You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation.

He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.

“Do I at least get a hint?”

“Dean, I —”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”

Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been.

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it.

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish.

“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”

“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?”

You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.

“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”

“Romantic,” you quipped.

A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”

You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you croaked.

“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”

“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them.

“Of whatever you want.”

“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart.

You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“No, that’s not what I —”

You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.

“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”

Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”

“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—”

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”

He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”

“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point.

“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”

“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”

You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.

“Why do you know that?”

God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”

“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”

Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too.

“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly.

Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.

“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”

His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”

“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core.

“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”

“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him.

“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.

“Telling Sammy to beat it.”

Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”

He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”

“Why not!?”

“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it.

“Oh my God,” you began.

“Shut up.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”

“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased.

“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.

You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money.

Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision.

You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead.

“Ladies first.”

“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”

He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.

“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.

He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.

“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.

“Promise.”

“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.

“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.

You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.

You tilted your head in question.

“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”

“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid.

He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —

“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on.

You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”

He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.

“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”

“And how’s that?”

He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.

“Like the fucking brat you are.”

You almost came from that alone.

Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place.

“Do your worst.”

It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked.

When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted.

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”

You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”

“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”

“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”

“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”

“Put me in my place,” you repeated.

“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”

Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core.

Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this .

He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.

“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early.

“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.

You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening.

“Hold it,” he ordered.

Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.

“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.

“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”

You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then —

He stopped.

He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.

You whined.

He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it.

“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”

You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.

“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you.

You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.”

His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you.

He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.

“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.

“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”

“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”

He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”

Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.

He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him.

“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.

“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.

He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it.

“Dean,” you breathed.

“Hm?”

“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.

You decided you liked “baby” better.

“Please.”

“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”

You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”

His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said.

“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his.

You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around.

“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”

You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.

“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?”

His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hm. But not this time, right?”

“Y/N —” he warned.

“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”

For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.

“Color?” he questioned roughly.

“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.

Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind.

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more.

“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter.

“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily.

He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out.

“Good?” he asked.

“So fucking good.”

When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out.

“Harder,�� you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”

He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame.

“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —

“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”

And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually.

“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.

“More than,” you smiled.

He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —

“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”

He snorted. “They’re half right.”

“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”

You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”

“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”

“It was perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut

3K notes · View notes

ruggiezz · 8 months

Text

— MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO GO TO MCDONALDS WITH YOU AT 3 AM : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters that would accompany you to mcdonalds at 3 am

[characters] all (romantic) + ortho (platonic)

[disclaimer] this post talks about food a lot and mentions of unhealthy food (in vil's and riddle's part)

[extra] i'm having way too much fun writing character's reactions

── Most likely

★﹕LILIA VANROUGE

Bold of you to assume he was sleeping in the first place. Lilia was playing the equivalent of Overwatch in Twisted Wonderland when you suddenly asked him to go to the nearest McDonald's. He agreed instantly, and now you're both on a date, with you eating fries and Lilia eating a strawberry sundae and a cheeseburger..

★﹕ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)

He agreed instantly. Can robots even feel tired in the first place? Ortho will search on the internet for coupons and promos, but first let him equip his eating gear; he wants to eat too. Everything for his best friend. By the way, he wants to buy something for Idia too.

★﹕ROOK HUNT

Rook got out of bed even before you even mentioned you wanted to go out, he woke up when he felt you were awake. Rook is a light sleeper; he can even feel when you wake up to go to the bathroom. If you really want a meal at McDonald's, who is he to say no? It makes him happy to see you happy, but he will stare while drinking his strawberry shake. Not a "I'm judging you" stare, but a "I like to see you enjoy your meal" stare.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

He has probably eaten McDonald's at least once because Lilia bought the whole of Diasomnia burgers. Alright, you're both going. Yes, he's still a little confused over why you would crave a really cheap burger at 3 am, but Malleus doesn't even care; the burgers are good and he enjoys indulging in human customs, plus he gets to see you smile. The only bad thing is that the employees got the fright of their lives when they saw the literal prince of Briar Valley enter the restaurant.

★﹕SILVER

Still sleepy, he agreed. There are times when he randomly awakes during the night, so he might as well spend it with you, even if it was at a fast food restaurant at 3 am. He'll order an iced coffee and some fries and listen to you while you speak about whatever comes to mind. You'll both have to make it quick though, he may fall asleep there, and you both need to get back before classes start.

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

He didn't even understand what you were saying; his mind was still foggy from being woken up so late. He said yes, not knowing what he was agreeing with, but a few minutes later he realized what he agreed to. Deuce, not wanting to have gotten your hopes up only for him to say no, got up and accompanied you anyway. He still enjoyed himself though, as long as he is with you, he's happy.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He's tired because of how many errands Leona made him do yesterday, but you know what? He will still go. Food is food, and he could never refuse it. Leona lets him grab his credit card anyway, so order whatever you want, Leona will pay, even if he doesn't know that. It's not like he checks his credit card's expenses, so don't worry about it.

★﹕JACK HOWL

When he confessed to you a few months ago, he didn't expect that would mean signing up for you waking him up in the middle of the night, asking him to accompany you to eat fast food outside of campus. Still, he's your boyfriend, and he can't let you go alone, it's dangerous. Even if he doesn't feel like ordering anything, he will sit there with you until you finish your meal, chatting with you in the meantime.

★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA

You're lucky he loves you too much; he would have said no if you were another person. So now Ace is sitting at McDonald's, almost falling asleep while eating some nuggets. That one song they keep replaying will haunt him in his dreams; it got stuck in his head for like, a week. Riddle reprimanded him the next day for falling asleep during history class.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Out of everything he could have expected a person to say at 3 am, it certainly wasn't "I want to go to McDonald's". Cater takes a selfie with you inside and uploads it to his Magicam story, the close friends one, so Riddle doesn't realize he wasn't at the dorm. He still has no idea how you came up with this, but ok, it was for the funsies.

★﹕JADE LEECH

You're certainly unpredictable, aren't you? Jade stared at you for a good minute until he just got up, got changed, and went with you. Floyd has done weirder stuff during one of his mood swings; what harm can going to McDonald's do? He doesn't feel like cooking that late anyway. Just don't tell Azul you're both going to the competition, okay?

★﹕EPEL FELMIER

He had you repeat what you said twice to make sure he was hearing you correctly. You want to do what? Let him go back to sleep, please. Okay, whatever, he will accompany you, but make it quick. At least that's what he said before spending the next two hours chatting with you while eating. He sadly got caught by Vil when he came back. Rook snitched.

★﹕SEBEK ZIGVOLT

No, he has to make sure nobody attacks Malleus while he's sleeping. But with some reassurance from Lilia (and him asking Sebek to bring him a burger) and his love for you, he decided to accompany you. He'll ask for the biggest burger since he has a big appetite. He did enjoy it at the end; 10/10 would do it again (but he won't say that out loud).

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM

He doesn't mind that you woke him up, and he would like to go, but there's a small problem: he isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jamil, which means he would need to wake him up. Jamil wouldn't be happy about that, and Kalim doesn't want to bother him either. So you both just order takeout and give the delivery guy a very generous tip.

★﹕IDIA SHROUD

Idia was awake, but he really doesn't want to go, and he's also farming for an event. Great, now he's craving McDonald's too. If you really want to go, you can have Ortho accompany you, but please bring him a chicken sandwich and some fries. You can use his debit card to pay.

★﹕TREY CLOVER

... What? What did you even dream about to crave McDonalds so late at night? Trey says you both can go on the weekend if you really want to, but go back to sleep, please. There's an important exam tomorrow, and you'll both be in trouble if you suddenly fall asleep in the middle of it.

★﹕FLOYD LEECH

He was not in a good mood after being woken up in the middle of the night. Floyd won't let you go, squeezing you so hard that you can't even move away from the bed. You're not going anywhere the whole night, and if you still want the meal, you can order some in the Mostro Lounge tomorrow.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It's 3 am, what the heck. Leona says Ruggie can buy you some tomorrow; ask for as much as food as you want, but not at 3 am. He will fall asleep on top of you, so you can't even move, just in case you try to sneak out while he sleeps.

★﹕JAMIL VIPER

No, please, he's tired. He did so much work yesterday: laundry, cooking, folding clothes, tutoring Kalim, paperwork for an upcoming event, and preparing for an exam. He just wants to rest for at least a few hours. Go back to sleep, please. He promises he'll cook you a burger with some fries tomorrow. His cooking is way superior to fast food anyway.

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"No, that's unhealthy", he says. Somebody buy him a happy meal or something, Riddle has probably never eaten fast food in his life. Either way, there's class tomorrow, and he would never forgive himself if he arrived late to a lesson. So no, you aren't going anywhere.

★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Why would you want to eat at McDonalds when he has a literal restaurant? Are you trying to buy from the competition? Now Azul is offended at 3 am, so offended that he dragged you to the kitchen to make you a meal resembling the McDonald's one just to prove Mostro Lounge's food is better.

★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT

Excuse you? Not only did you interrupt his beauty sleep, but you want to go eat McDonald's'? It's 3 am, please go back to sleep or you'll get dark circles. Lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and he won't take the risk, much less to eat unhealthy food.

── Least likely

3K notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 11 months

Note

Hiiii!!! Babes wow I’m so IN LOVE with the way you write soft Miguel!!! It’s the cutest effing shiz 🥹 I go very weak in the knees for a big grumpy indifferent man that is so dang painfully soft for their girl it’s such a huge turn on for my heart 😩 I also came to share that I’ve been imagining Miguel overhearing reader talk about how she’s never had a secret admirer and then a few days later she finds a red rose w/a lil note addressed to her. From a distance Miguel & Jess watch as she parades her lil rose around the others all smiley and Jess asks if he’s gonna tell her and he murmurs “let her have her little admirer” Like that mans got it baaad 😮‍💨

hiii!! omg stop it, that’s so fucking sweet!! thank you! and me too!! I love mean cold grumpy men that have a soft spot for their girl, like embarrassing soft and mushy for her!! it’s my weakness😩 that is the cutest idea. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

secret admirer

miguel o’hara x f reader

wc: 722

part 2 -> here

You were never usually one to receive spontaneous gifts from others, rarely one to have a secret admirer, so when you walk into your office and see a singular red rose with a small envelope attached, your stomach immediately somersaulted.

A few days prior, you and Peter were talking about gifts and what he should get MJ for their upcoming anniversary, and then the subject of secret admirers arose. You mentioned how you've never been on the receiving end of those small romantic gestures and how you wished and hoped you could be at some point. To you, it was a simple flyaway comment, but based on Peter's solemn reaction, you couldn't help but think that he felt guilty.

You did ponder if Peter left it for you as a sympathy gift, but the red rose was a tell-tell sign that he didn't. So now, you couldn't help but wonder who gave you the flower. Who knew the passcode for your door? Who knew about your whereabouts? All these questions span in your mind as you walk into your office.

You reach for the rose, bringing the flower to your nose, softly breathing in its fragrant scent as you pick up the envelope. You place the flower down and glance around your office, looking through the windows to see if anyone's watching. Once you know it's clear, you open the paper and pull out the small note.

' I heard you've never had a secret admirer before,

I'm glad to be your first.

Spider-Man '

Even though it's tagged Spider-Man, it could be anyone. Literally anybody. Hundreds, if not thousands, of possibilities. But the one spider that first came to mind was Peter. You wanted to tell him about the strange coincidence and share your happiness about the situation. So you flag him down, rose and note in your hand as you search through HQ for him.

You finally spot him in the cafeteria with Jess and Miguel, talking over food and coffee. You hesitantly make your way over with a smile as you subtly wave over to him.

"Sorry- sorry, do you mind if I borrow Peter real quick?" you ask, glancing between them all.

"Sure," Miguel softly smiles as he looks you up and down, noticing the rose in your hand.

"Thank you, we won't be long. Hurry- come on," you say, tugging Peter's arm.

"Alright, alright," he huffs, taking a final bite of his burger before placing it down. "What's so urgent anyway?" he grumbles, trudging after you as he adjusts Mayday in the Björn.

"You know how I mentioned the other day- about the secret admirer thing...?" you start, looking at him eagerly. "Well, look what I just found," you smile, showing off your rose and note. "I went into my office, and- and it was just sitting there, for me. A rose for me!" you excitedly gush, smiling widely.

"No way?" he says, his joyful tone matching yours. "Let me see the note,"

As he reads through the letter, you glance around the cafeteria, your gaze honing in on Jess and Miguel, who were not so subtly staring at you. Suspicions rise when you notice them whisper to each other, heads together as if they're in cahoots.

"Hey Peter, can you do me a favour?" you ask, slyly leaning forward.

"Sure, what's up?"

"This might be really wrong, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to eavesdrop, please?" you say sweetly, hoping to mask the morally wrong favour you were asking.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, please. And do it quick. Miguel and Jess- hurry,"

"Shut up then, so I can listen," he shushes you, chuckling.

He's quiet for a few moments, a slow smile creeping on his face as he listens in on their conversation.

"What are they saying? Tell me," you ask, eyes keen as they dart around the room.

"I can't tell you..." he grins, shaking his head.

"Why? Why not?" you playfully hound, gesturing with your hands. "Come on, please?"

"God, he's gonna kill me," he mutters. "All I heard was the end part... Jess said, 'Are you gonna tell her about the rose?' and then Miguel said, 'Let her have her little admirer. She needs it,' okay? That's all I heard,"

Your smile widens.

The rose, it was from Miguel?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse

3K notes · View notes

delulujuls · 7 months

Text

crumbs | op81, ln4

hi! i hope you don't mind that i am serving another landoscar you can probably already tell how many comfort i am finding in the papayas

anyway please enjoy and feel free to send requests if you have any!

summary: y/n gained a little bit of weight and didn't get well with that

warnings: problems with eating, body dysmorphia

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

"I would eat pizza"

Y/N wrinkled her nose, hearing Lando's suggestion to her left.

"Pizza? You can afford more than that" she replied, eyes glued to the screen while browsing restaurant offers on her phone.

"Pizza is always a good option" he added, shrugging and looking at Oscar for support.

Piastri let out a sight and streched his legs.

"Pizza is a safe choice, I must admit"

"Seriously? You too?"

The girl looked up from her phone and glanced at the aussie sitting to her right.

The three friends were sitting outside the medics' room, waiting for their routine check-ups before the race. It was lunchtime and they were intensively pondering what to eat.

"I would love some Mexican, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea" Oscar said after a few minutes of thinking.

"It's a shitty idea if you ask me" Lando laughed at his own excellent joke and continued until he entered the room for tests, leaving his friends alone.

"I would go for sushi, but I know this big baby won't let me eat fish in his presence" Y/N said, referring to Lando's picky choices.

"How about a burger?"

Oscar asked, glancing at her phone and pointing to a restaurant. She handed her phone to him and they both started looking at the menu.

"It looks decent enough"

After Lando came out it was time for Oscar and then it was Y/N turn. She had her blood pressure, sugar, and blood test taken. Finally, it was time for her weight check. Without thinking too much she took off her shoes and stepped on the scale, straightening up and looking ahead.

"Are you before your period?"

The girl blinked a few times, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected question, but she shook her head.

"Two weeks ago before the race you were four kilos lighter"

She looked down at her body and was surprised by the number on the scale. At the nurse's request she repeated the measurement, but it remained the same.

"Is there a chance that it's a weight scale error?" Y/N asked as she put on her shoes.

The nurse shook her head and wrote down the results.

"Lando and Oscar's weights are the same as during the last measurements, so i guess it's not about the scale"

The girl felt embarrassed. Did that mean she had actually gained weight?

"Do you stick to your diet and training?"

"Yes, I'm trying as best as I can" she quickly nodded, but the woman still looked dissatisfied.

"I'll inform your coach and dietitian, but you need to have more self-discipline."

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze, feeling bad about herself. When she left the examination room, she noticed Lando and Oscar were still discussing where to eat that day.

"We thought burgers would be a good idea, but we changed the place, let us know if it suits you."

Oscar said, handing her the phone. She took it, but her appetite had completely left her, along with her good mood.

"I don't feel great after the blood test, so I'll pass on lunch today."

"We can eat later when you feel better" Lando suggested, glancing at her. Oscar agreed, nodding.

"No, you can go on your own."

"Then pick something for yourself, we'll get it for you to go."

Y/N handed back the phone and shook her head.

"No, there's no need. I need to rest for a while and I'll eat something later."

Her friends insisted for a while, but she remained adamant. When they lost the verbal battle with her, they both left the hotel together and she returned to her room. She immediately went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She carefully observed herself from every angle, raising and lowering her shirt, sucking in and relaxing her stomach. She didn't think anything had changed in her appearance, but the longer she looked at her reflection, the less she was liking what she was seeing. She slipped her finger under her waistband, trying to remember if her pants had been looser at some point. She leaned closer to the mirror, examining her face. Were her cheeks perhaps less round?

The girl shook her head, left the bathroom and sat on the bed. So yes, it is a fact. She had gained weight, which didn't bode well, especially for her performance. Not wanting to succumb to negative emotions, she got up and changed quickly, wanting to start her training for the day earlier. She headed to the hotel gym, spending two hours doing cardio exercises which killed any appetite she had left and certainly any craving for food.

"I thought I was the only one who came here with such a big head start" her trainer joked, putting his bag with her training equipment on the floor. Seeing her sweaty and flushed from exertion, he furrowed his brow.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long, just warming up. We can start, im ready"

She replied, pretending not to have any trouble catching her breath. She wiped her face with a towel and took a sip of water. In reality, she had had enough.

After another two hours of intense exercise, Y/N had had even more than enough. If that was possible at all.

And that was how her days started to passing away, quickly turning into weeks. She spent more time on training than necessary, completely avoiding recovery time. She also avoided going out with Lando and Oscar, knowing it was better to avoid them than to come up with excuses for not ordering anything to eat and only drinking water with ice. But there were moments like this, when avoiding them was impossible.

After the pre-race conference, there was a big dinner from which Y/N couldn't escape. Everyone was milling around big swedish tables with their plates in hand, but she sat on the side, clutching a bottle of water. Suddenly, a plate of freshly prepared lasagna appeared in front of her. A few pieces of broccoli and a small portion of greek salad, her favorite, lay next to it. Lando and Oscar sat down in front of her, their plates also filled with delicious food. There was no way out of this, but she couldn't let herself be defeated.

"I took you some yummies, don't be grateful too much" Lando said and sat down, starting to eat. She forced a smile and held her fork, pushing the food around her plate. She took a knife in her other hand, starting to cut a piece into smaller portions while maintaining an active conversation with her friends. Her utensil movements were dynamic, she speared the food, waved it near her mouth. However, no piece eventually made it onto her tongue and not a single calorie disrupted her balance. Another great success.

Both Oscar and Lando easily sensed the change in her behavior. They had noticed it a while ago when she began to avoid them like the plague and when she was with them, she wasn't the person they used to know.

"We see what you're doing and you better stop that or at least tell us what's going on" Lando said firmly, setting aside his utensils. She looked at them, pretending to be surprised.

"You know what I'm talking about"

"I have no idea" she replied immedietaly.

"You haven't eaten anything even though your plate is full of your favs" Oscar pointed out.

"I just don't have an appetite, I ate earlier"

"You haven't eaten earlier, Y/N"

Oscar shook his head, looking at her with concern.

"You have no idea what I was doing earlier.

The girl said, shaking her head in irritation. What did it matter to them whether she ate or not? They had probably noticed she gained weight so they knew her results would be poor, which meant she would be worse than them. She wouldn't be worse than anyone.

"It's just that we don't know because you cut yourself off from us without a word"

"I didn't cut myself off from anyone"

"You stopped spending time with us, you don't talk to anyone and it's almost impossible to reach you so how you will call it other than cutting yourself off?"

Y/N snorted, shaking her head.

"This is absurd"

"We're just worried, that's all"

Lando said, not angry but genuinely concerned. And even if he was angry, it was only with himself for not knowing what was happening with his friend.

"No one has to worry about me"

She cut him off and stood up. She had no intention of listening to this nonsense but when she got up abruptly, her head spun and she staggered uncontrollably. Oscar caught her just in time and he exchanged a meaningful glance with Lando. They held the girl tightly and the three of them left the dinner.

Once they were outside, the cold night air somewhat cooled Y/N's unwarranted anger. Lando and Oscar were her friends, not enemies and none of them had ever made her feel like they had ill intentions.

"I feel weak" she finally admitted, squinting her eyes. After a moment, she felt something warm tickling her lips. Lando cursed when he saw a trickle of blood from her nose. He began frantically searching his pockets, but Oscar was faster and pressed a tissue to her nose.

"It's okay, just breathe"

Piastri said calmly, sitting her down on a bench. He laid her down, gently placing her head on his lap, telling Lando to lift her legs. He did what he was told, but he felt like he could faint at any moment himself.

The three of them sat in silence and Oscar and Lando from time to time were exchanging worried glances. They didn't want to press on Y/N too much. They knew her nature and that she had to open up to them on her own.

"I lied" the girl said quietly after few minutes of silence, so quietly that Oscar and Lando thought it was just the whistle of the wind.

"I didn't eat anything today. Yesterday, too and the day before either"

"You haven't eaten anything for three days?" Lando asked, looking at her with concern. She weakly nodded.

"Why?"

"I gained weight"

"Who told you that you gained weight?"

Lando asked, frowning his brows. He was ready to throw hands with anyone who let his friend down.

"It came out during the check. I gained weight, which shouldn't have happened"

"And that's why you stopped eating? Completely?"

"I shouldn't eat"

She admitted, still pressing the tissue against her nose. She felt her eyes filling with tears. She hated being weak, but that was exactly what she was in that moment. Just weak.

"You should eat, you need to eat," Oscar said, wiping away the tears that escaped her eyelids "Everyone needs to eat"

"Not me"

"Everyone deserves to enjoy delicious food, especially you"

"It would be better for me if there was no food in the world"

"You're being silly" Piastri said, gently caressing her cheek. She opened her eyelids and immediately met a pair of big brown eyes, looking at her calmly.

"We'll take you to your room, you'll rest. One of us will bring you something good to eat and you can have it in peace without any weird glances. Okay?"

She nodded weakly, not being able to continue this fight. Shortly after that all three of them were in her bedroom. They sat on the bed, each of them having a paper plate with something to eat. Oscar and Lando were already quite full, but they wanted to show their support to their friend, so each of them took a large piece of cake.

Y/N looked hesitantly at her meal, her nervous gaze shifting between her friends.

"This is safe food, good ingredients. Your stomach will thank you for it" Lando assured her, smiling encouragingly.

She nodded and slowly started eating. Lando and Oscar joined her, and they ate in silence. No unnecessary comments, no lectures. Just the comfort offered by friends. And nothing tasted better than that.

#oscar piastri #lando norris #landoscar #op81 #ln4 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagines

508 notes · View notes

loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

The Reid family live in the trailer opposite Eddie and Wayne’s. They’re a pleasant bunch, sure, but more importantly, they always give Eddie a freshly cooked burger on the Fourth of July, which he readily accepts—why would he waste his time on overpriced fair food when he could get it on his own doorstep for free?

Tonight’s burger is more than a little on the charred side.

It’s no big deal to Eddie (that’s how he prefers it, really), and he gets that you really have to keep an eye on some of those portable grills—otherwise you’ll end up with incinerated chunks of meat in the blink of an eye. But even so, it’s not like Matthew Reid to be so distracted.

“Wayne got the night off?” Matthew asks.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder towards his home, almost misses Eddie nodding. He puts another singed burger on a bun, then places it on Eddie’s plate.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Uh, I’ve got some sparklers kicking around, y’know, if the kid wants to…”

He makes it sound more of a happenstance than it had been: yes, he’s had a decent run of orders from seniors and recent graduates, all wanting to let off some steam at the county fair; money is a damn sight better than it had been.

But the truth is that Eddie had been saving up anyway, would’ve bought the sparklers even if funds were tight.

It’s become a little tradition at this point: making his own annual ‘firework show’ with the Reid’s son.

Eddie’s known Daniel since the kid was six years old—he’s fourteen now, still has a bright-eyed naivety that Eddie hopes Hawkins High doesn’t completely stamp out.

He’s got a shock of blonde curls and a gap tooth, loves swimming so much there’s a running joke in the town that he’s part dolphin, what with the amount of time he spends at the community pool.

When his parents had heard that Eddie was repeating senior year yet again, instead of going for the usual commiserations or ‘helpful advice’ angle, they just quipped that it would be good for their son to see a familiar face at high school.

To be honest, Eddie can’t see Daniel needing a familiar face all that much; he imagines that after the typical first year nerves have come and gone, the kid will settle in quite comfortably, that he’ll be on the swim team by October.

At the mention of sparklers, Matthew’s face falls. He looks back to his trailer again and says, “Ah, m’sorry Eddie, couldn’t get him outta bed. Maybe later?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Eddie leaves him to it—if they were closer, perhaps he could’ve encouraged Daniel outside, made a difference somehow. But he just knows the family with a distant kind of friendliness—a shouted, “Morning!” when he’s running late, or a wave at the end of a long school day, their lives only overlapping briefly.

He goes inside to give Wayne his burger, so when it happens, he almost misses it.

He’s pouring himself a glass of water when he hears Louise Reid shouting indistinctly. She’s not usually one to argue, although Eddie’s noticed that she’s seemed tetchy lately—only yesterday, he’d been woken up by the sound of an almighty row that, as far as he could tell, was just about misplacing a bottle of bleach.

By the time he’s out on his porch, he’s just in time to see the back of Daniel as he heads out of the trailer park. It doesn’t exactly look like he’ll stop for anyone.

Louise is watching him go, her lips a thin line.

“Just let him cool off, darlin’,” Matthew says.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. That’s—that’s not normal, I don’t know what the hell’s going on in his head—”

”He’s a kid, Lou, he’s just acting up, that’s all. He’ll grow out of it.”

Louise sighs exasperatedly. When she shuts the front door, she does it with such force that it just bounces back open again. Neither she nor her husband fix it.

Eddie reckons that he’ll time it: fifteen minutes, give or take, and Daniel will be back. Ten minutes more, and he’ll have made up with his mom, before sheepishly asking Eddie for a sparkler.

Eddie’s left counting for much longer than fifteen minutes.

Matthew walks down the road leading up to the park’s entrance, over and over again. Comes back and shouts into his trailer, maybe a little frantically, that he can’t find Daniel, that maybe he’s gone to one of his friend’s places.

Eddie hears Louise start up a round of phone calls. A knot forms in his stomach as each one ends the same way. Call me if you hear anything.

It gets darker. Wayne heads out to the woods with Matthew, flashlights in hand, and it reminds Eddie of when they’d done the same not all that long ago, when Will Byers went missing.

The knot in his stomach grows. Tightens.

Wayne returns with a shake of the head. Eddie makes coffee just for something to do.

“They reckon he hitched a ride somewhere.”

Eddie scoffs. “Where the hell’s he gonna go, Wayne? Chicago?”

They drink their coffee on the porch. The Reid’s door is still left open, so when the phone rings again, it sounds as loud as a gunshot.

Someone picks up.

A scream.

“Wayne,” Eddie whispers. He feels suddenly desperate.

Wayne’s face is white. “Stay here, Ed.”

And then he’s running over to the Reid’s.

Eddie shouldn’t get closer. Shouldn’t look. But he does.

He tiptoes across the grass, just close enough so he can see…

Louise is on the floor. She’s clinging onto the wall phone, the cord stretched to breaking point, and Wayne’s talking to her, too softly for Eddie to make out; he gets down on his knees and puts an arm around her.

Her scream turns into wailing, then guttural sobs.

Eddie staggers backwards.

A flashlight being dropped on concrete. Matthew running inside.

“Lou? Lou! Jesus, what’s—”

Eddie looks away.

He goes back home, tries to shut out the noise. No matter how loudly he plays music, he can still hear them.

Eventually Wayne returns; he doesn’t say anything, just switches Eddie’s music off and puts on the radio.

There’s names being read out. Daniel is one of them.

Eddie sits out on the roof that night. He lights a sparkler, thinks about writing Daniel’s name in the sky, and then is immediately furious at himself for the thought. The kid should be here to do it himself.

When he eventually falls asleep, it’s to the memory of a sparkler burning the back of his eyelids.

A few days pass in what feels like one slow blink.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. He ends up just wandering down town—it’s ghostly quiet here, has been so ever since the mall opened.

It’s overcast, as if the tragedy has made summer die quicker. That doesn’t stop Eddie’s skin from itching.

There’s a small diner near where Radio Shack once existed; it’s a hole in the wall, still somehow in business.

Eddie doesn’t know why he goes in. He hasn’t even brought his wallet.

All he knows is that he’s suddenly inside, and the place is absolutely dead, and the only person sat at a booth is—

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes. “What happened to your face?”

Steve Harrington stares back at him, looks decidedly unimpressed. There’s a basket of fries in front of him, and he’s presumably going for the ‘stoic silence’ route, because he picks up a fry, goes to eat it, and immediately winces. No fucking wonder, too; it’s a miracle he can even try and eat anything through that busted lip.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, doubt something hot with salt was the best choice, Harrington, considering uh,” he waves a hand in front of his face, “everything.”

Steve frowns. “I just wanted them,” he says, on the edge of petulant, and Eddie wonders if he also ended up here by chance; if his skin is itching, too.

“Hang on,” Eddie says.

At least he has something to do now.

He asks for a cup of ice at the counter, wraps up some cubes inside a bunch of paper towels. He brings it back to Steve, who’s watching him in faint surprise.

“Uh. Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs.

Steve takes the bundle of towels, pressing them to his lips with a small hiss. He nods for Eddie to sit opposite him.

It’s a whole lot, up close: one of Steve’s eyes is heavily swollen, and along with the busted lip, his face is a mess of fresh bruises that must ache something fierce.

“You can ask,” Steve says, mumbled from talking behind the ice. He sounds resigned, like he’s one step away from adding everyone else does.

“All right.” Eddie crosses his arms. “What happened?”

“I worked at the mall. Broken down elevator.” Steve slams his hand down on the table. “It dropped.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mutters.

But his mind is already elsewhere.

Steve’s unaffected eye narrows. Shit. He’s on to him.

“What’s eating you, Munson?”

“It’s just…” Eddie sighs, leans forward. “So a fire broke out. Like, after closing? But people were still inside.”

Steve doesn’t blink. “You ever worked in retail? People just hang around for no reason.”

“Sure, but—but—” Eddie feels a sudden urge to tug on his hair in frustration. “But he wouldn’t do that, he’d…”

Steve sets down the paper towels. “Who wouldn’t?” he says quietly.

Eddie tells him.

Steve listens in silence. He shifts in his seat when Eddie’s done and says, almost gently, “It sounds like he went to—”

“No, he hated the mall,” Eddie says vehemently. “Dragged his feet when his folks took him to the opening. He wouldn’t—he’d—I don’t know! All of it, it’s—”

“Crazy,” Steve finishes. He looks down. “Yeah. I know.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it, man. And, like, that family never fought, but the day before it—his mom was biting his head off over, like, losing some bleach or something stupid like—woah, Jesus, you okay?”

Because Steve suddenly looks like he might be sick. He swallows, breathes in and out cautiously.

“I’m fine.”

Eddie pauses. “Okay,” he says, uncertain. When Steve looks a little less pale, he goes on; he can’t stop himself. “I just—what if—did you, um. Did you see him?”

“No,” Steve says slowly. “But Eddie,” he says, and for some reason, he almost sounds like he’s pleading, “he was there.”

“How do you know? How does anyone—you know, like Will Byers, everyone thought… And then he…”

“It’s not always like that,” Steve says, sounds both sad and bitter. “Some people just stay dead.”

It’s a lousy rebuttal, in Eddie’s opinion, but for some reason it hits him anyway, leaves him abruptly exhausted. He runs a hand over his face.

“Yeah.” He steps out of the booth. “See you around, Harrington.”

“Wait.” Steve gets up too, with slow ginger movements. His fries remain untouched. “If I brought my car, I’d have given you a ride home, but…”

“Don’t think you’re in any condition to be driving,” Eddie says.

Steve gives a tiny shrug with one shoulder. “You wanna get the bus?”

“I didn’t bring any money.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get your ticket. I’m just gonna ride all the stops anyway.”

And it’s an unexpectedly comforting thought, that Steve is also at a loss for what to do.

They go to the back of the bus, sit in silence for the first couple of stops. Steve turns from where he’s been looking out the window and says, “Are you still, y’know, doing your thing?”

Eddie’s used to that being a euphemism for “Are you still selling?” But then he sees that Steve is miming a dice being thrown, and he’s momentarily surprised into a half-smile.

“Yeah. Will be, when school starts up again.”

He’d typically be using the summer as time to work on a new campaign, but that had gone out of his head with… everything.

They’re nearly at Forest Hills when Steve speaks again.

“I… I knew him. Not like you did, but I—I used to be a lifeguard, and his butterfly was phenomenal, I’d get the stopwatch out sometimes. There was a group of us, we worked on rotation, we’d call him part—”

“Dolphin,” Eddie says. “Yeah. That’s right.”

He feels his bottom lip threaten to go. Stupid. He rubs the feeling out with the tips of his fingers, digging in harshly.

It’ll be his stop soon. He stands up to make his way to the front, doesn’t expect Steve to rise with him, but he does. His breathing is suspiciously light; Eddie suspects he’s got some broken ribs to go with the pummelled face.

“Eddie,” he says, and even though he’s keeping his balance perfectly well, his hand brushes Eddie’s wrist anyway.

It’s not enough to chase away the itch in Eddie’s skin. But for a fleeting second, it helps. It helps.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “It sucks to lose someone.”

It’s a platitude, but there’s feeling behind it. Weight.

Eddie wants to say that he didn’t lose anyone, that the thought would be a disservice to Daniel’s parents, but…

It’s like Steve’s words give him permission to feel it. Just for now.

“Thanks,” he says tightly. On the last step before he exits, he turns and says, “Rest up, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. “I’ll be here for hours.”

It’s said like it’s a joke, but Eddie thinks he means it.

Steve’s halfway back to his seat when the bus turns back onto the road, but he manages to wave just before he disappears from view.

Eddie starts the short walk home.

The Reid’s trailer is dark, a For Sale sign placed in front of it. Eddie hadn’t even known they were leaving, must have missed it in the haze of the last few days.

He gets it; if he were in their shoes, he doesn’t know if he could have stayed either. Everything would be a reminder of their son—the places he’d go, where he should be.

But he almost wishes that they were still here, so he could try and stumble his way through telling them Steve Harrington knew your son. He’ll remember him, too.

He doesn’t know if that would’ve been a comfort or not. He doesn’t know.

People come and go. Steve won’t be on that bus forever—he’ll go home eventually. July will become August will become…

Eddie lets himself in and collapses onto his bed. There’s still a prickle of wrongness in his skin, but he can’t untangle it. There’s nothing to make sense of.

He finds one of his journals. There’s some notes he made for a future campaign only last month. Feels like a lifetime ago.

He ignores the remaining unlit sparklers left in a corner of his room. Starts to write.

He can control this world, at least.

#eddie being just on the periphery of s3 events #eddie munson fic #eddie and wayne munson #pre s4 meetings how I love you #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

999 notes · View notes

sqturns-blog · 7 months

Text

Chris Sturniolo Head-Cannons, Sfw and Nsfw

Summary: Basically just head-cannons for Chris Sturniolo as always SFW will be at the top and NSFW will be towards the bottom! Pink text is you speaking! Orange text is Chris speaking!

T/w: Locals Dni! Minors Dni! or do i’m not your parent or guardian (smut head cannons at end)

A/n: i didn’t proof read this again YOLO

SFW Head-cannons:

Not sure if he’s into PDA since he has said that he doesn’t want a girlfriend because of there girl fanbase but when he works up the courage to tell the world he’s definitely a PDA king

His love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation!

Physical Touch: He NEEDS his hands on you at all times even if it’s just a slight touch of your hand when your in public he likes to know your there

Words of Affirmation: He loves to tell you how beautiful you are (i don’t think he says i love you until later on / 6 months into the relationship because he prob has commitment issues) but when that’s over and he works up the courage to tell you he loves you he’s saying it ALLL the time

If your not feeling the best/ having a bad day all day he’s gonna try to make you laugh ( telling very bad jokes , and probably tickling you )

Idk why but i feel like he’d LOVE to tickle you 1. cause he’s very childish 2. he loves to hear your laugh it’s like music to his ears

He loves to ask you before he does something aka “Should i post this?” “Should i get Burger King or McDonald’s?”

He has you pinned on EVERYTHING messages, snap, insta whatever he can pin you on your pinned

His phone background is a photo of you and him but your face isn’t showing just in case a fan accidentally sees it

idk if this is SFW but i feel like he’s a stoner 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

loves to take .5s of you 2 or just you

has a folder in his photos of photos with you in them!

(NSFW head-cannons below ⬇️)

NSFW Head-cannons:

he’s definitely an ass kinda guy he loves to hit it from the back iykwim 😉😉😉😉😉

ofc his fav position is Doggy, mainly cause of your ass durrrr and cause i feel like he has a hair pulling kink 🤷🏽‍♀️

he definitely has a favorite dress of yours cause it hugs you in all the right spots and (easy access of course)

he likes to take his chances he definitely enjoys public sex

will tell you what kind of bras and panties he wants you to buy cause “i’m the only one who gets to see them anyways mamas.”

PET NAMESSSS he loves to call you Ma, or Mama (you called him daddy once by accident and he went faster with pounding into you so you’ve kept that in mind)

He has probably asked for you to send him nudes before and he went CRAZZYYYY so you like to send them when he’s in public cause it makes him squirm

if you send him a nude in public trust when he gets home your not gonna be able to walk for WEEEEKS

definitely loves to sweet talk you and MAYYBEEE a little degrading “good girl nghh~~ take me like the good girl you are~~” “okay d-daddy” *proceeds to go even faster*

A/n: (i’m not the best at these kinds of Hc’s but i tried)

I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x y/n

511 notes · View notes

livwritesstuff · 3 months

Text

inspired by a reply @gregre369 left on yesterday’s post. this is why i love this site so much bc i had this idea floating aimlessly around my brain for such a long time and then someone says something that just connects all the dots for me so - much thanks <3

tw: brief reference to domestic violence

One of parenthood’s biggest surprises (in Eddie’s opinion, anyway) was how easy talking to his and Steve’s daughters about why his parents aren’t in his life was.

He’d figured it’d be hard to figure out exactly how to explain that his mother's death was due to domestic violence caused by his father, who had died in prison twenty years later – but…that about covers it, honestly. Sure, the exact rendition of the story the girls hear varies as they get older, but…it’s pretty straightforward, actually.

Explaining Steve’s situation turned out to be way more complicated for…well, for a lot of reasons, and the fact that his parents are still alive and breathing and choosing to not be around didn't help things at all.

It also didn't help that the girls totally saw Jim and Joyce as Steve’s parents, but it did lead to a conversation that Eddie doesn't think he'll ever forget:

It happened when he was passing through the kitchen to see that Steve was cooking with Moe.

"What're we up to in here?" he asked.

At four years old (she’s actually almost five), Moe has yet to outgrow a phase of picky eating that had started out right around her second birthday. Steve is trying out a new method where he involves Moe in the cooking process in the hopes that she then actually wants to eat the product of her hard work when it’s done. He's seeing varying levels of success.

“We're making burgers,” Moe said, “Poppy’s recipe.”

Eddie looked at Steve skeptically, “Poppy Jim or Poppy Joyce?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m telling Joyce you said that.”

And then he added, “Jim.”

Satisfied, Eddie continued on his way.

“How come you call your dad Jim?” Moe asked.

And that had Eddie pausing in the hallway just out of their line of sight.

“Well, Poppy’s not my dad, sweet pea,” Steve replied.

“Did you not have a dad?”

“I did have a dad – I do. He lives in Indiana with my mom. We don't really talk to each other anymore though."

"Why?"

"When I was younger, I decided that they didn’t take care of me like I needed them too, and Jim and Joyce stepped in to be like my parents instead."

It's not completely accurate, Eddie knows (and he doesn't love the way Steve is shifting culpability away from his parents because that shit was fully on them, but whatever; it's his story and he can tell it however he want), but just like how they don't have a completely accurate picture of what happened to Eddie's mom either, they know what they need to know for now and they'll hear more down the line.

“But what did your mom and dad do?” Moe asked.

"Well, you know how Daddy and I read to you and play with you and put you to bed and make food for you – it was a little different because I was older and I needed different stuff than that, but…”

Eddie watched Steve look back at their oldest daughter, watched him see the look of confusion in her big brown eyes.

“They didn’t do that?” Moe asked, sounding perplexed.

Steve shook his head, and Moe continued to look at him as if he might suddenly tell her he was joking.

“That’s crazy,” Moe finally said, and Steve let out a laugh.

“It is kinda crazy, isn’t it?” he agreed, “That’s why I love being your dad so much, because it’s actually so easy to want to take care of you. Even though you sometimes like to make it hard on purpose, right?”

“Yeah,” she grinned proudly, “Like when I make you snuggle me more at bedtime and you fall asleep by accident and then the kitchen is messy in the morning."

"Uh-huh," Steve said, poking her in the side so she giggled, "Exactly like that."

"You're a good dad," Moe told him.

"You think?" Steve asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"The best dad."

“The best?” he repeated, “Can’t let Daddy hear that.”

“He can hear it.”

#cue moe yelling for eddie so she can say it to his face #she later affirms it's actually a tie #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: domestic violence

262 notes · View notes

f1version · 9 months

Text

ORDER NUMBER 16 ★ CL16

pairing: engineer!charles leclerc x scientist!reader (she/her)

summary: something about flirting with the guy you met at McDonald's at almost midnight.

warnings: fluff, meet-cute, probably unhealthy eating habits (aka mcdonald’s at midnight) because of work, the engineer and scientist thing is mentioned once, it is what it is (and it’s fluff)

word count: 1.2k

notes: originally wrote this in italian, like it made sense so it just happened, so have that piece of information!! also happy late birthday to this two baes @formulaforza & @strawberrysainz <33

“Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you tonight?” The cashier said with a half-smile, they seemed tired, having the last shift of the day didn’t feel ideal anyways.

“Hi, can I have a six-piece McNuggets combo? Thank you,” you said, handing over your card, and Allison —according to the name tag— nodded, charging six and a half euros, handing it back with a ticket. Number 15. "Thanks again!"

A bar table, five four-seat tables, and the counter made the McDonald's a small place, a quick stop in small Maranello. You had the impression that you would be the only one there at 11 p.m. However, while you waited for your order, the door opened revealing a brown-haired man, his green —or blue? no— eyes finding yours for a couple of seconds.

"Number 15!" One of the workers called, making you look away.

Both of you reached the counter simultaneously, once again curious eyes stealing glances, there was something in him that attracted you. Maybe it was the fact that he was very handsome, or maybe it was the sheepish smile he gave you before greeting Allison.

"I would like a cheeseburger, thank you," you heard the stranger ask for and a slight smile left your lips, Cheeseburger, really?

You took your tray and headed to one of the tables, sipping on your soda. Order number 16 was called about two minutes later and you felt the movement a few meters away.

For the third time that night, green may be the only color available when the stranger sits at the table across from you, face to face with you. A small smile found it’s way to your lips, Was this guy serious? This is his way of flirting? Is it even intentional?

You watched him take the first bite of his burger and, as if it were a movie, the meat slid off the bun, his eyes turning away from yours automatically. A soft laugh left your lips, his cheeks turning crimson.

Suddenly the table in front of him seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world, his eyes following the pattern on it. This guy.

You softly tapped the table, the silence on the establishment enough to let him hear, his head shooting upward, giving you what you assumed was his ‘I’m embarrassed’ smile. You, confident enough in whatever this interaction was, tilted your head towards the chair in front of you, an invitation.

He changed seats, both of you smiling, searching for the start of a conversation.

“So, is your burger okay?” you said. The man seemed a bit taken aback, yet he laughed.

“I hope so,” he replied. He was smiling, pretty crinkles around his eyes as he took a couple of fries into his mouth, “That was a bit embarrassing”

You laughed, “Well, I think it was a good first impression,” you saw his cheeks flush again.

“Really? Then I’m the luckiest guy on earth,” he said and you laughed, taking a moment to tell him your name. His eyes widened, “Oh Right, mamma mia, I’m- I’m Charles”

You laughed and he followed, this was so awkward yet it felt right. Talking to him- Charles is very nice.

“So,” he imitated you, “How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight? And don't say because you were hungry,” Charles asked.

“Oh, I had the fantastic idea of leaving my job a little late, forgot I had an empty fridge, and I was hungry,” you answered. "What about you? How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight?"

"I wanted to meet a pretty girl, of course," Charles said, a grin on his face. You giggled softly, he broke his little act, “Actually, my reason is not that different. I was working on a few blueprints and when I finished, this McDonald’s was on the way to my flat."

“Blueprints?” you asked.

“I’m an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari”

“You’re lying” You smiled incredulously, he shook his head. Of course, this had to be more perfect, “I’m a scientist for Ferrari, Charles,” You took out your nearly new ID, “I got the job a couple of weeks ago.”

Charles chuckled, bringing out his own ID, "Well, what a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"

“A rather pleasant one if you ask me”

Your eyes met, and both of you burst into laughter.

This was such an unexpected thing, but in some way, it made sense. A lot of people living around Maranello worked for Ferrari, yet meeting one in McDonald’s wasn’t the most normal thing.

Additionally, Charles is gorgeous, his hair brown and a bit messy, his shape soft but defined, and his green eyes. They were like walking through an enchanted forest and ending up at the beach, turning and deep but also bright and colorful. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in them.

He looked at you sweetly as both of you finished your meal, his eyes drifting to your last nugget. A question appeared on his mind.

“Why nuggets?” he asked.

“What? You don’t like them?” you giggled a bit, eyes widening when you noticed his hesitation. “No”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like them!” Charles tried to defend himself, laughter escaping him.

“Oh mamma mia, no no,” you dramatized, “Charles, you can’t call me pretty girl and then tell me you don’t like nuggets!”

"I've never tried them!" he said, eating the last of his fries.

Your eyes widened again, “What? Never?” Charles shook his head, “How is that even possible? Are you allergic?” you continued, one hand resting on the table while the other grabbed your soda.

"No, my mum always ordered a cheeseburger for me and it just stuck," Charles explained, one of his hands reaching for yours.

“Well, now I will have to make you try them!”

“Well-”

“Hey guys,” the McDonald’s employee, Allison, interrupted “It's almost half past twelve and we have to clean the place, so if you could please wrap it up! Thank you!”

“Yeah, of course,” Charles was fast to answer.

You looked at him, and he was already looking at you, cheeks flushed and you knew you were as red. Without talking, you finished eating your nugget and he finished his drink, honey eyes locking with each other. Why does it have to end?

“It was so nice meeting you, Charles,” you rushed out, not wanting to say goodbye.

He smiled knowingly, “You know, I would like to try some nuggets, maybe after work or on a weekend?”

And how could you say no to that?

“I would really like that”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he beamed, “It’s a date then,” Charles rapidly grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket.

“Don’t you want to write your number directly on my phone?” you asked endeared, he was writing as fast as he could.

“For what?” he said standing up, and handing you the paper, “That takes away the cliché aspect!”

You chuckled, picking up your tray and dumping what was on it, Charles did the same. Both of you said goodbye to the —apparently very invested in your relationship— employees and left.

"My flat is one block that way," you said pointing to the right.

"Mine is one block to the left," he replied, "I guess not everything could be so perfect."

You smiled, "I’ll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course, see you soon," he said before taking your hand, squeezing it, and letting go.

3XX-XXXXXXX — Charles Leclerc ♡

Don’t tell anyone but I think I fell in love with this girl at Mcdonald’s!!!

661 notes · View notes

chococoveredsmores · 1 year

Note

Like anything miles 1610. I feel like everyone is writing for miles 42 and forgetting about the og!

midnight cravings - miles morales

SUMMARY: texts at 3am + a mcdonalds notif = a recipe for chaos

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N: i love midnight snacking. mcdonalds always hits harder at 2 in the morning! also sorry i keep writing miles in like situations where he isnt usually 100% Himself (sleepy, sick) so um,.. i will get to a proper one soon

WARNINGS: nothing seriously bad just fluff, food i guess, reader doesn't know miles is spiderman, reader is highkey a simp

"Ugh..." You wake up with a groan, rubbing your eyes and assessing your surroundings. Noticing the still-dark environment surrounding you, you reach out for your phone which was on the bedside table.

2:42 AM. The phone lights blare onto your face, causing you to squint. As you scroll through your notifications, two catch your eye— a text bubble from Miles sent a few minutes ago, and a promo from McDonalds for their new meal.

Miles’ message was rather cryptic, and a normal person wouldn’t understand what “ruawkkekkrkx” meant. But a few months of these kind of typos (which meant Miles was either on patrol or barely awake), and one learns the language.

On the other hand, the McDonalds notif… if it was a propaganda technique, it was definitely working on you. You click on the advertisement, and damn did that chicken burger look good…

You decide to go back to Miles’ text. After opening the app and keyboard, your fingers feel too heavy to type… so you tap on the call button instead.

After exactly three rings, he picks up; in place of his normally spunky voice was a low, raspy one.

“Hey. You good? What’s with the random call?” Damn, his voice was unintentionally sultry as hell. Would it be weird if you started screen recording? He wouldn't know, right?

Ahem. Anyway.

"Oh, I'm fine, a little hungry though. I just didn't wanna type. Um, nice voice by the way." You hear a chuckle through the screen.

"So, you hungry? I mean, I could like, get you a snack or whatever."

"It is literally 3 in the morning right now." Though you expressed disapproval at what he said, your facial muscles tugged into a smile.

"Whatchu want?"

One link to a McDonalds meal later, you're patiently waiting in a now dimly lit room, phone in hand and still in bed. You decide to watch a show while waiting.

You're midway through your show, engrossed in a particular fight scene when you hear your window open with a click. Your fight or flight senses kick in, and you jump out of your bed and grab your phone and lamp (it's the nearest weapon, so...).

You watch as a dark figure comes out of the window in fear, you are ready to swing your lamp and dial your nearest police station when the figure raises both their hands in the air, to signify peace...?

The person pulls up their mask to show their face, one that you'd instantly recognize anywhere.

"Miles!"

You drop everything and sprint to his arms— literally nothing, not even a meteor, could stop you at that moment from wrapping yourself around his lean figure. Miles places his hands on your back, and the two of you relish in each other's presence.

You wish the two of you could stay like that forever, but the enticing smell of a chicken burger and drink eventually draw your attention towards it and you pull away from him.

"Can we talk about how the hell you got to my window with me living in the 21st floor? I seriously thought that the moment you clicked open the window was going to be my last for a few seconds."

Miles smiles and slightly bites his lips, and God forbid the kinds of things you would do for this man.

"Maybe over a chicken burger?"

a/n: to be completely honest i cringed so hard typing this fanfic but i just need to finish it so i hope none of you umm.. feel what im feeling rn at my own writing...

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #itsv #spiderman: into the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales fluff #miles morales imagines #miles 1610

723 notes · View notes

salsasvault · 5 months

Text

The Supermarket

this started off as a continuation for the gym!simon fic but it just became it's own thing

supermarket!simon x reader, cw: stalking, dark simon riley

Part one

1 │2 │3

Simon Riley hasn't experienced kindness, so when you show him some, he goes a little crazy.

Grocery shopping is either the funnest thing in the world or the biggest pain in the ass. And right now you're feeling it's the latter.

After a long day of work, walking around a crowded, loud store was not your ideal night. But having no-anything and little to no money, forced you off your spot on the couch, leaving it and your unfinished show behind.

You've survived, barely, trotting the shopping cart, leaning your full body weight onto it for support, eyes half closed as you wait in the checkout line. The day you’re most drained had to, of course, be the busiest day this grocery store's seen.

As you mindlessly scroll through your phone, a sudden sharp pain surges through your back, you’ve been, of course, crashed into by the cart behind you. Letting out a breath of surprise you turn to face the culprit.

Face still twisted in pain, you see a boy, around 10, with not an ounce of remorse on his face. A little annoyed you turn back, and not a minute later you're interrupted by a man, presumably his father. He makes an excuse, profusely apologizing, and so you, of course, accept the apology, give your classic,

"Don't worry about it! It happens!" and what tries to be a genuine smile but miserably fails.

Exasperated, your head is now seated between both your arms as you wait impatiently for your turn.

When you eventually near cash, another thing seems to be against you. The man in front of you, of course, seems to have forgotten his wallet.

You take a quick peek at the total, 115$, a steep number, one that you don't think you could afford, but the line won't move if he doesn't find a way to pay, and the nice thing to do is cover it.

So you chime in,

"Hey, y'know what it's okay I got it," You give him a soft smile, reassuring him that really it's no trouble. Sure you’ll have to skimp on next week's groceries, but a good deed's a good deed, you suppose.

He doesn’t move, like he hadn’t heard you, until you make your way to the machine does he finally speak.

“S’alright, don’t need them anyway.” He goes to leave.

“No really, it’s no problem,” click, you move fast, the money's gone through, not much he can say now. All you can hope for is he takes the food, and leaves so you can crawl back to your couch.

He turns around, looking at you, albeit a little weirdly, you can only see his eyes, the other half of his face covered with what looks to be a mask, the ones that wrap around your neck.

You pay no mind, averting your eyes to look at your cart, on any other day you might be more pleasant, smiling, maybe even small talk.

But the day seems to just get longer and longer, and he stares for another beat, a soft, “Thank you.” follows.

He picks up the bags, all five in one hand, you stare a little too long at the hand that holds them all, before snapping back to reply.

“No problem, have a good night.”

Was his response a little lackluster? Considering you really can’t afford anything else for the month, yes, but who knows maybe it made his day, you shut yourself down before you overthink the whole thing.

Finally, your turn you finish everything up, and your total's 95$, again more than you can afford, and so you put back the homemade burger buns, bread’ll have to do, and that pasta sauce is given back too, along with some extra produce.

You’re total comes up 55$, a number you feel a little more comfortable committing to, you're handed the bags, and you leave.

You take them out to your car, putting them in securely, and head home.

After you’re home, seated on the couch, laptop atop your lap, mindlessly scrolling through various shopping sites, do you receive a call.

Your phone rings often, at least twice a week with a number you’ve never seen and an area code far from where you are, chalking it up to a scam call every time you’ve never answered, this time no different.

You take a quick glance at the phone next to you, not recognizing the number you go back to the pair of red shoes that were on sale for a dangerously good deal.

Your phone rings again, a little weirder this time as scammers tend to call once and move on, but on the off chance it’s not a scam, you're sure they’ll leave a voicemail or a message.

A ding is what furthers your confusion, and the message itself is what chills your bones.

“It’d be in your best interest to answer that.”

Was it highly unusual? Sure, we’re you a little scared? Yes, but then again it could always be a wrong number. You had recently changed phone plans, and your number changing with it so really it’s a simple explanation, you do however feel bad for whoever that was meant for.

Your phone rings again, worrying you further but you leave it, if whoever texts again you’ll respond, just to put an end to the dings.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

A little intimidated by now, your mind starts to jump to conclusions, you haven't met anyone new, and haven't given your number to anyone recently.

You text back.

“i think you have the wrong number”

“Last I checked, this was the pretty sweetheart from the supermarket, was it not?”

You swear your heart stills, before coming back to life, beating tenfold.

This could very well still be a wrong number, everyone goes to the store, just because you did today doesn’t make you special, probably some guy trying to chat up a cashier.

“sorry, i really do think you have the wrong number”

Your mind flickers through the number of possibilities, it could be a prank, one of your friends trying to scare you. Though, this wasn't the kind of prank they'd pull.

“You sure?”

“yes???”

“Then why can I see ya texting lovie? All comfy with your laptop, I think you should get that those, red suits you.”

Your head whips around to the window your sofa's seated next to, no one's out there, it’s not possible, you live in an apartment building, 20 floors above ground. The only way he could see you was if…

“who is this”

You get out immediately, sure it’s cliche but it’s all you can manage, all that comes into your anxiety-riddled mind. You're suddenly aware of every noise and every shadow in your living room.

“You know who it is.”

“i really don't buddy, just answer the question”

“I think the better question is how got inside, check your kitchen.”

You feel like you've been doused with ice water, heart beating so loud it's the only thing you can hear. The thought of getting up to investigate, when he's more than likely to be inside. You guess you waited too long contemplating because you hear another ding sound from your phone.

“Check your kitchen, don’t make me make you sweetheart.”

Your heart skips, hesitantly you stand, slow steps moving toward the kitchen, your eyes scanning for any movement, anything, ears on high alert for the drop of a pin.

When you finally make it around to the kitchen, you're eyes once again scan the corners, the pantry, and then they fall on the counter.

Sat atop are four bills, four hundred dollar bills, alongside a note.

It then finally clicks into your head, the man in front of you in the line.

Surprisingly neat writing,

Had to pay you back,

See you soon.

Eight words scrawled onto a page. Your mind is overwhelmed with the questions flying through, pay you back with four hundred dollars? See you soon?

You grasp at your phone, rushing to text him, to gain some answers, maybe even report him to the police. Pulling open your messages, the text threads disappeared, along with his number from your call log.

You're left even more confused, did he have access to your phone? When was he in the apartment? Was he still here? If he wasn't how could he see you?

Anxiety overwhelms you, as you stare at the large sum of money and the only trace of him on your kitchen counter.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader

284 notes · View notes

aphroditeslover11 · 5 months

Note

Hi! I hope that you're having a great day/night! Could I request Lenny Miller with a younger reader?

Love Of His Life

This came so naturally, I’m not sure if it’s what you were hoping for but it just flowed out of my hands!

Warnings: a little smut, age gap, not proofread

Lenny had met you when you were spending a year in Paris, having taken a French degree that required you to spend a year abroad as a part of your study. It took some convincing for you to go out on a date with the older man, but he was persistent and eventually won you over. After he had taken you to dinner at Le Meurice, picking up the tab himself, he had walked you home and sent flowers to your tiny chamber de bonne the next day along with a note thanking you for your company. The fact that he was old didn’t mean he was dull or sleazy as you had feared, it meant that he was a hopeless romantic who knew how to treat a woman properly. The next time you met he had taken you for a picnic in the Jardin Du Luxembourg, complete with amazing French cheeses and a bottle of expensive champagne. It was fair to say that pretty soon you were hooked. Everyone always said that you were mature for your age anyway, so the concept of the age gap quickly became irrelevant to you.

A year later and you had finished your degree. When it got towards the end of your time studying in France Lenny had taken the risk of proposing you after taking you back to Le Meurice like he had on your first date. You hadn’t thought before saying yes, he put in for a transfer to be near you whilst you finished your degree and life continued in your strange state bliss.

You tied the knot quite quickly after that, getting married in a small service. His parents had both passed and he was an only child. Neither had much in the way of family, but you had agreed to a wedding in the church where he had grown up in Hawaï, though he wouldn’t admit it you knew that it made him feel close to his parents. You had the perfect white dress and he was in uniform, a hang over from the days when he had been climbing the ranks of Navy SEALs before he had been recruited into the CIA. As there were so few people you didn’t bother having a proper reception, he opted to take you to the beach where he had spent his time as a child, eating cheap burgers as your wedding breakfast and replacing the lights of a dance floor with the soft glow of the stars above you.

After this you moved to New York, he was promoted and took over a senior intelligence post, stationed in the city. He was in and out of the UN meeting with his counterparts, meeting all kinds of people. You knew he worked so hard because he wanted to prove he was worthy of you, his young and beautiful wife. You were remarkably proud of him, even if he found it hard to believe it. He was smart and had invested some of what his parents had left him into the stock market back when he was in the navy and used it to buy a beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side. It had a beautiful kitchen diner where you would attempt to cook together, often ending up in resorting to ordering takeout after Lenny decided that it would be a good idea to modify your recipes. There was something beautifully domestic about this life, it was still unpredictable but safe. Lenny refused to tell you much about his past because he didn’t want you to view him differently, but he gave up the guns and the action so he could live a safe life with you, finally letting himself rest.

After having seen so many horrible things he would want to protect you from the harshest realities of the world. You were young and innocent and so perfect for him, he didn’t want to taint that. He would never let an argument go unresolved before you went to bed. On the rare occasion that you had a proper row he would usually cave first and give you your way. He would usually be so in control of himself, but when he did shout it was harsh and loud, it always terrified you and as soon as he saw the look on your face he would cave. He could never stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

Arguments would often end in the bedroom, he would be the gentlest lover after a fight, peppering kisses along your collarbones before slowly moving down your body. He would be attentive, bringing you over the edge as many times as he could with his hands and his tongue until he had finally made it up to you. Only then would he seek any pleasure for himself, sheathing himself within you and moving so gently it would be as if you were made of porcelain. He’d be terrified of hurting you after seeing you so vulnerable earlier.

There could be another side of him in bed though. A raw and passionate one that came out after a difficult day at work. You learnt how to bring it out yourself over time, how to tease him with subtle touches at the work galas that he took you to and how he could never control himself when he saw you in just your lingerie and a pair of Louboutins. On those nights he would go for rounds at a time. Voracious, like a starving man at a banquet. He delighted in having you spread out below him, completely vulnerable to him and at his mercy. You always looked so small from that angle, he could do anything he wanted to you, and moreover he knew that you would let him and enjoy it. No matter how hard he took you though, he always ended with his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering passionate prose into your ear and telling you how precious you were to him, how he would never let any harm come to you.

He managed to temper his protective tendencies well. Although both of you knew that it wasn’t a necessity, you found a job working in a little bookshop a few days a week, something to occupy your time. He was always anxious that something from his past would come back to haunt him, to haunt you, but he did his best to keep his worries separate from your life together. On account of your age difference, he was forced to confront the fact that there were things that you would want to do that he had left in the past, many years ago. You had a tight circle of friends that you would go with for nights out - clubbing, dancing and drinking in dives that he would never go into. He would never do anything to stop you, he would want you to live a life as full as you would have without him. Still, he couldn’t help it if he had to stay up until 3:00 am to make sure that you got home safe.

You had a beautiful life together in New York, it was something that you had built together, brick by brick. Every day he found himself falling deeper in love with you. He often said that he would probably have ended up dead in an abandoned corner of some far off land if he hadn’t had you to force him out of his ways. He pushed so hard for so long yet in you, your fragility and youth, he had finally made something to make him slow down. He finally understood the meaning of the phrase - you were the love of his life

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #lenny miller x reader #lenny miller #anna

155 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 2 months

Text

Chance and the Community Chest

@bellsandmischief phic phight phic!

“I don't know, Tuck.”

“Come on, Danny. You said it yourself. There's not much else to do on a Friday night since ghosts trashed the mall. And the arcade. And the theater. And the mini-golf course. And the bowling alley. And the ice rink. And the roller rink.”

“You don't even like skating.”

“And Floody Waters. And the park. And the Nasty Burger. Both of them. And the McMasters.”

“We wouldn't be able to hang out in a McMasters anyway.”

“It's the principle of the thing. The park is closed, too–”

“The park isn't closed. It's just that the Amity Park New Religion Convention is happening there.”

“Do you really want to go to the park when it's full of cultists?”

“I don't know that it's fair to call them cultists–”

“One of the groups literally calls themselves the Coalition of Universally Lateral Thinkers.”

“No. That has to be a joke.”

“It isn’t. I've looked them up. They've got some kind of Scientology-level crap going on. They're convinced that you can astral project yourself to the Ghost Zone and travel to other realities that way.”

“Well, I mean, you can, but–”

“Wait, what? Stop. Stop walking. What do you mean, ‘you can?’ Are you saying that astral projection is an actual thing?”

“Yeah? Is that not what I said?”

“Right. So. Should we, uh, stop them? Is that why you've been so weird about coming?”

“I haven't been weird about coming. I've been questioning your decision to bring a dozen binders full of rules for a game when we've never been here before.”

“Excuse you, these are the latest Dragonpath PDFs that I got for the low, low price of free. And there are thirteen of them, not twelve.”

“Yeah, and then you made up the price difference by making color copies. Seriously, Tucker, I think community board game night is more like Monopoly and Scrabble, not, uh. Something with fifty pounds of rules. And no board.”

“Actually,” said Chance Counter, unable to resist butting in despite his eavesdropping being quite successful so far, “‘board game’ in this case is more shorthand for– What is that?”

He’d been listening in, but he’d thought the teens were exaggerating, as teens tended to do. Nothing had prepared him for the enormous stacks of white plastic three ring binders.

“Fifty pounds of rules for Dragonpath,” said the white one, deadpan. He was the one carrying most of the books. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Oh,” said Chance. “Yeah. Are you the only ones planning on playing… that.”

“I wasn’t planning on playing anything in particular, Tucker just needed help bringing them over from his house. I’d be perfectly happy with Monopoly or, I don’t know, that one where you’re building stuff on an island.”

“Catan?” suggested Chance.

“Could be,” said the boy. Thinking back on the overheard conversation, Chance was pretty sure his name was Danny.

“I can’t believe it,” said Tucker. “I’ve been abandoned. Abandoned by my own friend. Abandoned! For what’s objectively the worst board game ever.” He almost dropped the binders, but his friend shored up his stack with his hip.

“What, why is Catan the worst?”

“Not Catan! Monopoly!”

“Why is Monopoly the worst?”

“Because, as our dear friend Sam would say, it signifies and symbolizes the ultimate capitalist hellscape. And also it causes fights.”

“I don’t think Sam would say that.”

“You don’t think I’d say what?” asked a girl who had just walked through the door of the community center. “Oh, hi. Are you one of the organizers?”

“I sure am,” said Chance, smiling. “My name is Chance Counter. We’re right in here.” He gestured behind himself, into the room where he’d just finished setting up the last of the old folding tables. He hoped they’d withstand Tucker’s massive tomes. “You three are a little on the early side, but our regulars should start coming in soon enough.”

“You might get some extras,” said Sam, walking past him. “Basically everywhere else is torched. Ghosts.”

“It’s not only the ghosts. There’s also the construction and the convention–”

“But it’s mostly the ghosts. By the way did you see that one of the groups set up in the park has an acronym that literally spells ‘cult.’”

“Did everyone know this before me?” asked Danny. He circled Chance and deposited his load on the nearest table. It creaked alarmingly. “How much math do you need to know in order to play this, anyway?”

“Less than Monopoly,” said Tucker, also dropping his binders on the table. “Look, man, we can basically play Doomed with these rules.”

“Why would we do that when we can already, you know, just play Doomed?”

“Because we can do things that we can’t do in Doomed. Trust me, it’s going to be great.”

Danny blinked down at the books. “Look, I like a good TTRPG as much as the next guy, but this is a bit extreme. Sam, will you play Monopoly with me?”

“Sure,” said Sam, sliding the box out from the stack of games on the central table.

“Sam! You were supposed to rail against the greed and corruption of capitalist states where monopolies are allowed to form!”

“I can do that and still enjoy a fictional monopoly,” said Sam. “I get to be the race car.”

“I want the dog, then.”

“You two are horrible.”

“And our battle will be glorious,” said Danny. “Should we wait for the other people, or will they not want to play Monopoly?”

“Oh, our regulars are very easy-going. Most of them will go with whatever is set up, although we do have an RPG group that meets every other week. They mostly play Eldritch Endeavors, though.”

Tucker groaned. “I want the boot.”

“I sense a butt kicking joke approaching, but would you really kick a dog? A doggy? A cute little puppy?”

“I hate you.”

Chance heard the community center door open again. He poked his head back out into the hallway. “Andrew!” he said, as the teens mumbled something about sense. “Great to see you. We don’t usually get you on the first Friday.”

Andrew, who was tall, thin, and sported a goatee, paused. “The first Friday?”

“Lost track of the days, huh? Well, might as well make the most of it. We’ve got some kids setting up a game of Monopoly back there.”

“Yes, I suppose I might as well,” said Andrew. He pulled off his coat, folded it over his arm, and stopped halfway into the room. “You!”

“You!” replied Danny.

“Chance, you really can’t allow this poetry-destroying hoodlum in here!”

“I said I was sorry! And then you attacked me!”

“It was my magnum opus!”

“Hey! Hey! This is a community game night,” said Chance. “The center policy is that everyone is welcome here unless they start something here, okay?”

“What about restraining orders?” asked Danny.

“Do you have one?”

“... No.”

“Then I don’t see how that matters. Now, you don’t have to play together–”

“Oh, but I will,” said Andrew, pulling a chair up to the table. “I’ll take any avenue to give this brat the beating he so richly deserves.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

“Uh, could we maybe tone down the smack talk as well? Maybe to something that wouldn’t get you arrested when taken out of context?”

Andrew simmered. Danny glared.

“Hi, Chance, what’ve we got– What are you doing here?”

“Star?” asked Sam, incredulously.

“Mikey?” asked Tucker, more incredulously.

“Oh, uh, hi, guys,” said Mikey, shyly.

Danny looked between the two of them. “Did you guys not know that they’re dating or something?”

“How do you know that we’re dating?” demanded Star.

“We’re keeping it secret!” said Mikey, horrified and loud enough that any secrecy was most likely moot.

“Not very well.”

Star swallowed visibly. “If you tell anyone–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no threats during community game night, please,” said Chance. “My heart can’t take it.”

“Who would we even tell?” asked Tucker. “We’re social pariahs. Hey, Mikey, how do you feel about Dragonpath?”

“Third edition is better. And Eldritch Endeavor is better than all of them.”

“You’re dead to me.”

“Aw, Tucker, I thought I was dead to you.”

“Anyway, this is the first Friday,” said Star. “Not RPG night. Is this the set with the purse?”

“Don’t think so,” said Danny, peering into the box.”

“I’ll get it,” said Mikey, moving towards the stack of game boxes where the second Monopoly set was hiding. “Is anyone the iron yet?”

“The what?” asked Tucker.

“The clothes iron,” said Mikey. “I like the irony.”

“Oh, you mean the useless technological throwback.”

“I iron some of my clothes,” said Sam.

“Of course you do,” said Tucker, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”

“I would like to play the game, now,” said Andrew.

Chance clapped his hands together. “So, Danny, why don’t you start us off, since you were the first one in?”

“Mm, yeah,” said Danny. “Let me just finish dealing out Mikey’s money.” He set down a few more bills, then shoved them over to where Mikey had just sat down. “Okay. Dice?” Tucker handed them over, muttering imprecations. “And… seven. That’s… one… two… three… four… five… six… seven. Chance. Erm. Chance card, I mean. So, let’s see here… ‘Take a walk on the Boardwalk. Advance token to Boardwalk.’”

There was a wave of quiet as Danny happily paid the bank four hundred Monopoly dollars and set the Boardwalk deed card down in front of himself. He looked up. “What?”

“Danny,” said Sam. “This is nothing personal, but you know that we all have to destroy you now, right?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Bring it.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #fic

115 notes · View notes

toxinoire · 6 months

Text

Kara never thought of it when Lena first asked her this question.

"What if someone says; in like a few years maybe, I'd be...gone?" Lena asks, staring at the distance.

Kara got confused at this question. But decided to answer anyway. "Well, I'd most likely, punch them or something. I'm not letting that happen."

Lena chuckled. "You're right...I guess it's just another existential crisis."

"Want to talk about it?" Kara asks softly. Lena just smiles at her. "No, darling. It's alright. It's just one of those times."

"Well, if you need anything...food, movies, a hug, I'm right here."

Lena laughs and nods. "Got that."

She didn't ask that question for no reason. She isn't sure if Kara already figured this fact out already, but their time is limited. Because Kara won't die unless she gets killed with Kryptonite or the day the yellow sun flying over them dies.

Lena knows there's a chance that Kara's life could be at stake at any given moment, but at the same time...there's a possibility that she could have Kara for the rest of her life. While Kara won't have Lena, nor the rest of their family for the rest of her life.

See here's the thing, Kara knew that. But ignorance is a bliss, as they say. She pretends that the day won't come.

But...maybe she indulged herself too much.

Because right now, Kara, swear to Rao, drops the car she's currently carrying as her eyes widen in fear. Through a window, not that big, but big enough for her to witness it firsthand.

Lena, sweet, gentle, beautiful Lena, with a knife pierced through her neck. She heard the enemy responsible for it, the one who's back is facing the window, laugh. Fucking laugh. Kara and Lena make eye contact through the window, Lena smiling gently, softly, warmly, at her. Muttering something no human could hear, but Kara heard so clearly. Her voice as soft as her gaze.

"I love you."

Kara barges in, breaking the whole wall, she rushes to her, hoping she could still save her. Hoping she wouldn't lose her. She can't lose Lena, she just can't.

However, it was too late. The knife stabbed a very fatal spot, and Kara witnesses Lena drop to the ground.

Kara can no longer hear her heartbeat.

"Aww, look at Supergirl. The Paragon of Hope, looking hopeless-"

Before this asshole can finish, Kara pushes him, actually pushes him off the broken wall, she hears him scream and plummet down, but she doesn't care.

"Lena?"

Nothing.

"Please, no. No. Fuck. Please don't leave me, don't take her too, please." Kara tries to get help, but to no avail.

Lena Luthor's death was publicly announced two days later. Many were happy at the fact that there was not a single Luthor left. The Superfriends grieved in their own ways. At least some people in the city actually acknowledged what Lena did for the world and paid their respects. The Superfriends tried to comfort Kara. She appreciates it, of course, but it won't bring Lena, Kara's...everything, back to her.

Now everywhere she goes, Kara just sees Lena.

She would try to go to Big Belly Burger, she just remembers that time they celebrated Lena's birthday there. Noonan's? She just sees Lena's smile when Kara gives her coffee from that place. The park in National City? That time Lena used her magic fully for the first time. CatCo? She remembers every hall Lena ever walked in. She sees a book? She remembers Lena giving her one.

Her own apartment also reminds her of Lena, all the times they had there. Certain foods remind her of Lena. Everything around her is now just a ghost of Lena. Even fucking kryptonite reminds her of Lena.

She's everywhere Kara goes.

No one in the city realized how much Supergirl was so torn over the loss of Lena Luthor.

Some dickwads actually thought she was happy about it, which some idiot reporter asked her one day.

"You must be really relieved that the last Luthor is no longer a threat."

Kara stays silent, yet her eyes emmit everything she wants to say.

Kelly holds back an angry Alex from hitting someone, but Kelly herself is yelling about how insensitive that was, about how this reporter is disrespecting the dead, about how they forgot that Lena worked with Supergirl. Both Brainy and Nia list down everything that Lena has done to save the city.

Kara? She's been silent, before taking a deep breath, looking at the reporter, knowing there are cameras surrounding her, she says,

"This world is nothing without her."

Then, she flies away, higher into the blue skies and screams.

Would you look at that, world. There's a Luthor that successfully broke a Super.

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara zor el #kara x lena #angst #i saw a miraculous prompt like this on tiktok #wherein marinette looses her memories yet adrien carries every moment with him #and my brain said: HEY imagine this but supercorp #and i went: bitch bET #and now here we are #hope you liked it :)#i realized i hadn't written them yet #well i have but not in this kind of way #it was always cracks i never wrote an actual well thought of supercorp fic #so here #please like it

132 notes · View notes

writing-blog-iguess · 4 months

Text

Online Matchup 8

Summery: It’s Halloween and y/n’s hosting a party that she doesn’t even want. But not to fear, Jason’s there with an escape plan.

Warning: mistakes, alcohol, tipsy!reader, tired Jason, Ellie’s done with her siblings bullshit.

A/N: So sorry for the wait. I got overwhelmed with how many wips I have and stopped writing for a bit, and it doesn’t help that I don’t have internet. So, that’s fun. Hope you enjoy though! Chapter nine should be on its way soon.

Feedback is welcomed!

ao3 Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

——————

October 31

Ellie (7:30 am)

YOU WENT TO A GALA

WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND

AND DIDN’T TELL ME

Y/N

Not my boyfriend

Shouldn’t you be in school?

Ellie

Not yet anyways

Don’t worry about it

So?

Y/N

It was two days ago, Ellie

It was a last minute decision

Didn’t really have time to tell you anything

Ellie

Could have told me after

Or yesterday

But no, I find out from Conner who found out from Clark

Y/N

Who?

Ellie

Clark Kent

Conner’s uncle

Also Bruce Wayne’s best friend but I have doubts

Y/N

How? You’ve never met Bruce

Ellie

True, but the stories Conner told me about

Anyways, we’re not talking about that

We’re talking about you and going out with Jason

Looking all fancy and rubbing elbows with the rich

Y/N

Did you have to word it like that?

Ellie

Did you meet his family?

Y/N

…

Ellie

YOU DID

Tell me, are they as intimidating as Conner makes them out to be?

Y/N

They’re all dorks and you would fit right in

Trust me

They’re very curious and protective of Jason

But they’re good people

I like them

Ellie

Don’t let Jason hear you say that

Or he might think you’ll leave him

Y/N

Ellie, what the fuck

Ellie

That wasn’t me I swear

Y/N

Fuck off conner

If you want to talk to me use your own phone

Ellie

This is the type of relationship you two have, isn't it?

Y/N

You’ll have no peace, sorry

Ellie

Damn

So, how'd it go?

Y/N

Fine

His brothers hounded me with questions

Bruce made a speech about jason

And then we left to get some burgers

Ellie

You’re the worst at telling stories

Y/N

I don’t know what you want me to say

Ellie

You’re feelings about how in love you are with Jason

Y/N

I’m not having this conversation with Conner reading over your shoulder

Ellie

Boo you’re no fun

Y/N

Suck it Ellie

Jason (1:39 pm)

How’s it going today?

Y/N

I am not the biggest fan of Halloween

I’ve had three different people scare me today on campus

Tripped over some decorations

And my friend is bugging me for a key so she can decorate my apartment once her last class is finished

I don’t know why she needs my key, she has her own

Jason

Yikes

Y/N

Yikes doesn’t even cover half of it

I’m half tempted to hide in the library and not go to the party

Jason

But it’s your apartment

Y/n

That’s the worst thing!

I shouldn’t have agreed to throwing it there

I want sleep

Jason

I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep at a normal time

Y/N

You’re one to talk

You’re up at the oddest hours

I’m not surprised anymore when you text me at like 2 in the morning

Jason

Fair

You can always come sleep with me when you’ve had enough

Y/n

Sir, I’m not that kind of person

Jason

That is not what I meant

You know that

Y/n

Do I though?

Jason

Y/n I swear to god

Y/n

They’re your words, Jason

Do better

Jason

Sometimes, I hate

Y/n

No you don’t

Jason

No I don’t

What I mean is, you can always stay the night at my place.

To sleep, can even have the couch since that’s were you sleep most of the time

Y/n

I want to be offended

But your right

Jason

Aren’t I always?

Y/n

With the party in full swing, and friends practically drunk, you hadn’t had the chance to look at your phone.

Now hiding in your room a few hours later, you grabbed it and went through your notifications. Nothing too important until you said Jason’s text asking to call you. But it was sent at five, and you were pretty sure he meant then instead of now.

But curiosity got the better of you, and you called.

“Hey Jason,” Barbara’s voice cut through the line, distracting Jason a little. He grunted in reply, and retreated behind the dumpster. “Someone named Y/N is calling. What do you want me to do?”

“Put it through,” Jason answered, looking around the dumpster to see how many were left. Three were left, shouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine,” he said and Barbara hummed before connecting the call. “Hey Little Bird. What’s up?”

“I don’t know, you were the one who wanted me to call you,” you answered. Jason furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving to shoot the one standing up. He winced at the sound and hoped you didn’t hear it.

“Mm, pretty sure you did,” you said, and he heard movement from your end. As if you moved the one on away from your face. “Yeah, seven-forty you said call me.”

“That was four hours ago,” he reminded, and smiled when you laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with a party and all,” you said and he can picture you shrugging. “This a bad time?”

He took a moment to answer as he ducked down when the other two started shooting. “Uh, don’t know.”

“Is that…is someone shooting at you?” you asked and he grimaced at the question. So much for keeping you out of this. “Jason, are you okay?”

“No, there’s no shooting. And I’m fine,” he grunted out, letting out a noise when he felt something hit his shoulder. When did he move? He faintly heard you saying something, but wasn’t quite sure. Ducking behind something else, he took a deep breath before saying, “you don’t do parties.”

“No, I don’t,” you agreed, “but, as I said, my friend is hosting the Halloween party at my place tonight.”

“It’s Halloween?” he found himself asking.

“It is. Jason, are you sure you're okay?” you asked, concern dripping in your voice.

“Peachy,” he said, staying down as the other two started shooting him. Where was the backup when you needed it? “So, how’s the party anyways? Sounds like you're having fun.”

He heard you sniff and could picture you sticking your nose in the air. “I am not having fun,” you said dryly.

“You sure? You sound drunk,” he said and laughed when you squawked.

“I don't get drunk.” Jason hummed and let the silence stretch out before you begrudgingly added, “okay. Maybe maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Thought so,” he said, “just go to bed.”

“I can’t,” you grumble, and Jason can picture you looking at your bed longingly.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Jason, there’s a full blown party out there and I can’t sleep knowing people are trying to get in my room for a hookup.”

“Tell me you locked the doors.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jason. But that doesn’t stop them from trying to get in. Four tries since I called, and each time I tell them that the room is busy.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Okay yeah, but I want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“If you give me twenty minutes I’ll come by to pick you up.”

“Mm, tempting. But I’m also tempted to sneak out and go to the cafe where we first met.”

“You’re not leaving the apartment alone this late at night.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I sure as hell can try.”

“I don’t see how, given that you’re probably across town.”

“I swear to god.”

You could have sworn you heard someone laughing, but in your drunken state you weren’t sure. “Well, I mean I could make you swear for a different purpose.”

There was a choking noise coming from Jason and you smiled. “Who knew you were a flirty drunk.”

“Not drunk, tipsy,” you reminded, and slowly opened your window, hoping Jason couldn’t hear it.

“Same thing in my books,” he said. You swore when the window creaked and stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said a little too quickly.

“That sounded like a window opening,” Jason claimed, “please tell me you aren’t escaping through the window.”

“How do you know what a window opening sounds like?”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?”

“I mean, it’s not everyday you learn that someone knows what a window sounds like when someone opens it.”

“Did you open the window?” Jason asked, and you stayed quiet but it was an answer all the same. “Why?”

“Well I mean, there’s a fire escape like right there,” you defended, holding your phone between your cheek and shoulder. With both hands, you pushed open the window. “Ha!”

“Y/N,” Jason sighed out and you could picture him pinching his nose. Kind of like a dad when he sees his child do something stupid and questioning why they are like this. You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about you, but you don’t care too much about that right now. “If you're going to do something like this, then keep me on the phone.”

“But won’t I disturb your family movie night?” you ask as you giggle the window screen off and slide it into your room. Once placed on the ground, you grab your keys and wallet before climbing through the window.

“I’m not watching a movie,” Jason said, confused.

“But I heard gunshots,” you reminded him, “it sounded like some western film.”

“Oh,” he said like he had forgotten. You paused on the steps, and looked up in concern when he didn’t say anything else.

“So you were getting shot at,” you questioned. Jason made a noise and you continued down the fire escape.

“No, no one was shooting at me,” Jason said, “brothers were playing a game, guess it was too loud.” You hummed as you concentrated on walking down the steps. “So, did you escape?”

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Jason asked, sighing deeply.

“It’s a lot sturdier than you’d expect.”

“You say that like you’ve done this multiple times.”

“I like to sit outside sometimes,” you defended, “and sometimes I am too tired to go to the roof.”

“Why not just open a window?”

“Not the same,” you replied and kept going down the stairs.

“There’s no stopping you, huh?” Jason voiced and you kept quiet. “Just keep me on the phone while you're out at least.”

“I can do that…as long as my phone doesn’t die.”

“Do you ever charge your phone?”

“…yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason teased, and you stuck out your tongue even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll meet you at the cafe as soon as I can.”

“Might want to hurry, I think I’m going to sleep there if they let me.”

“I have no doubt,” Jason said, laughing.

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

Your phone ended up dying halfway to the cafe, and Jason wasn’t going to let you live it down. No matter, you were almost there Jason was sure of it.

Quickly tying up the thugs he’s been dealing with while on the phone with you, Jason sent a message to Barbara before leaving.

“What? Done already?” Her basics filtered through the earpiece, surprised. “You’re never done this early. Got a date or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, starting his bike.

“Oh, come Jason!” Barbara exclaimed, “everyone else practically met them. It’s only fair that I know more. I did help you with your dating profile,” she reminded him.

Jason groaned and hung his head in defeat. “Fine! Fine,” he sighed out, ignoring the cheering in his ear. “Yes, I’m going to meet up with them after I’ve changed.”

“But I thought you were going to be out all night,” she said, “given that Y/n’s busy too.”

“Yeah, well. Plans change.”

“Are they okay?”

“Just a little tipsy and isn’t much for party’s. They just left for a cafe near town. Even though they didn’t listen when I told them not to and to wait for me. They insisted they go. So I told them I’d meet them there. Happy?”

“Extremely,” she sang, “and I’ll be even more happy when I get to meet them.”

“I will bring it up. Promise.”

“So, what was it? The motorcycle picture or the puppy that did it for the ?” Barbara teased, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“No idea, but feel free to ask when you two finally meet.”

“I have every intention to and share some stories of my own,” Barbara said and laughed as Jason groaned.

“Oh no.”

“Have fun,” she sang before signing off. Jason shook his head, and rode off back to his apartment.

A short while later, after he dropped by his apartment, he made his way to the cafe.

Parking his bike near the entrance of the building, he got off and looked through the window to see if he could spot you. He didn’t, and frowned hoping you made it safe.

Taking his helmet off, he made his way inside.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” one of the barista’s called when he walked in.

“Traffic,” he explained, looking around. “Is Y/N here?”

He heard a sigh, and a thump from behind the counter. He turned his head to see a barista when her head was on the counter. “You okay?”

“Don’t mind her,” her coworker answered, waving his hand. “She’s just had to sit and listen to Y/N complain about school and how you were taking so long.”

“Right,” he hummed and looked towards the talk he was directed at. And there you were, head down using your arms as a pillow.

“She’s so tired it’s unreal,” May, after a quick look at her nag tag, groaned. “I can’t wait for Christmas break. That way, they can take a fucking break and sleep he break away. Between school and working, it feels like they don’t sleep.”

Jason hummed and made his way towards your table. “Hey,” he whispered once he reached you and gently placed a hand on your head. You stirred, barely lifted your head up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But there’s still a party there,” you groaned out, nuzzling further into your arms. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Okay. Counter offer, come to my place. Sleep there, it looks like you need it.”

That had gotten your attention as you lifted your head to glare at him. “Sir, you know just what to say to sweep a girl off their feet.”

Jason laughed and helped you up. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you get some sleep. Promise.”

“Mm,” you hummed, clutching his hand as you followed him outside, waving at the two friends as you passed by. “Bike?”

“What else?”

“It’s cold out,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out as he set the helmet onto your head.

“Yeah, it keeps you awake though.”

“But it’s cold.”

“Why didn’t you bring your jacket?”

“It was not in the room when I made my escape,” you said, watching as he climbed onto the bike. You followed once he sat, and snaked your arms around his waist, settling your chin on his shoulder.

“You make it sound like you were held against your will,” he said, chuckling when you made a noise, stating that you practically were. “Alright, hold on tight.” That was your last warning, before he started the bike and took off.

You watched the city lights as Jason drove, in awe. You found, since moving to Gotham, that Gotham nights were much more pretty and peaceful then Metropolis. Granted, It wasn’t really safe with all the fighting and toxic gas’s being dispelled by the villain of the week. But it had its charm you fell in love with.

You shivered slightly as the cold air blew past you and felt Jason pick up the speed a little. You couldn’t help but smile at the tiny gesture. He was right though, the cold air does keep you awake.

Watching the lights whiz by, letting your mind wonder. Mat wasn’t kidding when she said you don’t sleep. Between classes, work and your personal projects, you’ve kind of neglected sleep in order to focus on everything else.

Sure, you get a couple hours of sleep, and naps. But it isn’t enough and it’s starting to take its toll on you. Sighing deeply, you tightened your grip and closed your eyes. Christmas break couldn’t come sooner.

You felt the bike slow, causing you to open your eyes. You waited until he parked and shut it off before climbing off. “That was thrilling,” you mumble out through a yawn.

“Would you like another ride?” Jason asked, helping you take off the helmet.

“Definitely,” you answered with a nod, “though maybe when it’s warmer and I’m not prone to fall off your bike due to sleep deprivation.”

Jason laughed, and tugged you into the building. “That’s fair. Now, let’s get you something to drink and eat before getting you to bed.”

“Sounds nice,” you said sleepily. “Is your couch comfy? I feel like it might not be.”

“Now that’s just mean,” he said, stopping short in front of his door. You nearly bumped into him and groaned out his name. “Sorry, but you might need to stay out here for a bit.”

“Did you leave your dirty laundry out or something?” you asked, rubbing your nose. You stepped back all the same instead of pushing it.

“Something like that,” he answered and you watched him unlock the door and stepped in. He closed it quickly, not giving you a chance to look inside. You shrugged and looked around the dimly lit hallway before turning to lean your back on the wall beside the door.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall with a small thump. It was strange, being at Jason’s apartment for the first time. And to sleep instead of being awake and hanging out. But you were giddy all the same.

Yes, you trusted Jason not to do anything with you. And you liked him enough to be okay with sleeping over at his place. It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same place. And just remembering how warm you felt with Jason’s arms around you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Alright, it’s safe to come in,” Jason’s sudden voice beside you made you jump slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sleeping.”

“Not sleeping,” you said, pushing him back in as you walked through the door. “Just resting my eyes.”

Jason hummed and put his hands on your shoulder and steered you into the kitchen. He gently made you sit, before setting a cup of water and a plate of toast in front of you. “Slowly. The. You can have a shower and change out of…whatever costume you have on.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Some would say I’m not.”

“Then they can fight me,” you said, taking a bite out. “And how dare you. Not recognizing the greatest hero of all.”

Jason looked you over slowly, and you tried not to flush. “Yeah, I'm still not getting it.”

“Wonder Women,” you said through another bite of toast. “Sure, it’s not the greatest costume. But it’s the thought that counts.”

“Would you like a change of clothes? I doubt it would be comfy to sleep in.”

“If you don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “I would appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, kissing the top of your head before leaving the room. You flushed slightly and finished the rest of your food. It felt all so normal, like you did this everyday. And that thought made you giddy.

“Okay, the sweatpants might be a little big and so is the shirt. But they should be fine.”

“Thanks Jason. That means a lot,” you said, getting up to hug him. He returned it with a smile and shooed you into the bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, you walked out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. “Jason?”

“In here,” he called and you followed the voice until you reached the bedroom. “This is your room for the night.”

“I thought I was taking the couch,” you question, leaning against the doorframe, watching as he was getting it ready.

Jason snorted and gave you a look. “Please, I would never do that to you. Besides, it’s not as comfortable as the bed.”

“So you’re going to take the couch?” Jason nodded, and you bit your lip in thought. And before you could change your mind, you bit out, “or, now hear me out. We could share the bed. It’s not like it’s happened before.” You're blaming the alcohol for it, and you can't regret it.

Jason looked up at you with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure. We’re just sleeping right? The worst that can happen is cuddling in the middle of the night.”

“Okay,” he laughed and with that, the two of you climbed into bed. You were more tired than you thought, you fell asleep the minute your head hit the pillow.

For Jason, it took a lot longer for sleep to reach him. He turned over, and looked at you for a moment before slipping his arm underneath you. With his other, he wrapped it around your waist and pulled you closer. And only then he could fall asleep, but not with the thought of how dangerous this could be.

But he found that he didn’t care.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd gn!reader #online match up #jason todd #my writing #batman imagine #jason todd imagine

98 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 4 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 14: Love is... Being late to work because you can't ever say goodbye in a reasonable amount of time (Prompt by @sharpbutsoft)

wc: 1,278 | Rated: M (just to be safe, this one is a little spicer and more explicit than usual) | cw: None

Tags: Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Robin Buckley, Platonic Stobin, Running Late, Family Video

Note: Gosh I hope this one is Steddie enough seeing as Eddie is only here in Steve's spicy morning after thoughts...

'The Mysterious Case of the Broken Doorknob'

Steve groans when he reaches the front glass doors of Family Video and realises his best friend has already opened up. His face burns, not just from the morning sun reflecting off the store’s front windows – his shades really do nothing – as he thinks about the reason he is late.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

His friend-turned-date-turned-overnight-boyfriend’s teasing words and wicked grin play over in his head like a fucking slot machine. Meanwhile, inside, Robin’s head shoots up from where she was glued to the computer, likely startled by the sound of him practically slamming into the front doors in haste.

“Where have you been!” she yells, her voice only slightly muffled by the glass between them.

Eddie, he thinks.

Eddie and the way he says (or doesn’t) say, ‘goodbye’ the morning after.

Eddie with that wild morning bed hair flicking every which way as he moved to blanket himself over Steve. His naked warmth enveloping Steve in a comfort that lulled him back into a half-sleep, his eyes only fluttering back open again as Eddie began to move, his hands roaming and carding through his chest hair.

Scratching his skin... Sinfully pitching his nipple, giggling when Steve squirmed under his touch...

Eddie's mouth joining the teasing... That mouth moving down... All the way down until a tongue playfully licked the tip of his –

“S-Sorry!” he splutters, ripping off his sunglasses when he finally gets the stupidly sticky door open.

He waves (or more, flails) a hand in Robin’s direction, avoiding his best friend’s burning gaze as he makes a beeline for the back office.

If he can just get to his shitty broken locker without any prying, he might manage to conjure up a decent enough excuse with regards to his tardiness.

Only this isn’t the first time Steve hasn’t quite made it in a reasonable amount of time because of escapades from the night before trickling into the morning after. Hell, most of the time he runs late for work the next day.

Plus, Robin knows Steve went on his first date with Eddie last night.

She knew they were going to Benny’s and that Steve had lined up precisely six separate make-out spots they could head off to afterwards.

Only, they didn’t even get that far.

They were about halfway through dinner when he and Eddie both agreed that after all this time, a full eight months after Spring Break, they should just throw away the playbook entirely.

“Wine and dine me later, sweetheart,” Eddie had joked, hopping out of the diner’s back corner booth and offering his hand.

The thing is, it didn’t exactly feel like a first date anyway.

Not after all that time. After hospital stays and visits. Not after healing and the awkwardness of Steve setting things right with Nancy. Not after he and Eddie at least began acknowledging that nagging something between them... Not after all the pining and flirting thereafter...

Not to mention all the meddling from everyone around them...

But this was different, he quickly decided as he discarded his burger – something he’d never willingly given up before.

With Eddie it is different…

So they went back to Steve’s house – something he promised himself he’d stop doing with ‘first dates’. He hastily parked the car on the drive, flicked on the inside entryway light and all but bolted up the stairs, hands interlocked with Eddie’s.

By the time they got to the upstairs hall, Eddie was ripping off his leather jacket and Steve was unbuckling his belt, all before they made it to his bedroom.

It was hot and rushed to begin with, as they both stripped down to nothing, pressing kisses to any piece of bare flesh they could get to before they lowered onto Steve’s bed.

And for once, Eddie didn’t make a quip about the checked bedspread and matching curtains. It might have been something like that, Eddie’s self-preserving snark falling away along with Steve’s uncharacteristic nervousness that turned it all soft, gentle and tender.

As they touched, skin to skin... Taking and giving as their bodies moved together... Kissing and licking as a sweaty heat grew between them... Moaning with no inhibitions and gasping into each other’s starved mouths...

Holding onto each other for dear life until they collapsed in a sweet haze, barely cleaned up but entirely sated.

Steve startles, brought back to reality by Robin’s big and quizzical knowing eyes looking back at him as she now blocks the office door.

“Spill!” she demands, poking him hard in the chest.

“Ouch – Rob... Scram!” he retorts, elbowing her in hopes she’ll move.

But she doesn’t. Instead, Robin clamps her hand down hard on the office doorknob at the exact time he does and they scuffle, grumbling and pushing and bickering unintelligible nonsense at each other –

Until the doorknob breaks clean off, the other half of it dropping to the floor on the other side of the door.

“Shit,” Steve curses, scrubbing a hand over his face while Robin is left gawking at one-half of the broken doorknob still firmly in her grasp.

“Okay… Well, know you have to tell me what happened,” Robin quips, “Or at least enough to spare some time while I think of what to do about this.”

Steve shrugs and settles for dumping his backpack by the door.

“I’ll just go to the hardware store in my lunch break.”

“A lunchbreak you think you are still entitled to seeing as you are…” Robin sucks in a breath and looks at her watch, “Almost an hour late!”

“Fine!” he relents, turning on the spot so he can all but collapse against the broken door with a hard thud.

“S-P-I-double-hockey-sticks, Dingus!” Robin repeats, her voice a whole octave higher as she plants herself square in front of him.

She begins tossing the broken doorknob expertly from hand to hand, the motion doing nothing to stop Steve’s head from spinning about everything last night – and this morning...

“Eddie and I barely made it through our date before went back to my house and boned, okay!” he admits, a hot rush creeping up his neck again.

He screws his eyes shut, trying desperately not to think about the sensation of Eddie’s pale skin against his.

His warm and soft flesh... His calloused fingers switching between deftly working and greedily exploring... The ridges and puckering of the scars that now litter Eddie’s body... The ones on his sides that match Steve’s own...

Eddie’s flushed and very nice – smooth…

“Whoa,” Robin says.

He feels the warning creak of the door as she joins him shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Yeah…” he sighs, “And then this morning Eddie gave me the best blowjob I have ever had and I didn’t want to leave – Rob, my brain feels like jello.”

“Huh...” Robin hums, pausing for a long moment, “Never took Munson for a Casanova in the bedroom – wait, no... I don’t want to think about his – ” she shudders, “No offence! Anyway, I would have covered for you.”

She knocks into his shoulder.

“Could’a told me that a few hours ago, Robs,” he quips, storing away the offer for the (hopefully, inevitable) next time.

Now at an angle – because the slightest bump is sending him off his axis in his current horny jello-brained state – Steve reaches into his back jeans pocket only to find it empty.

Fuck.

“What is it?” his best friend asks and Steve can just sense that Robin is frowning too.

“I forgot my wallet,” he dry-sobs.

“Steve!” Robin yells into his already-sensitive ear, “How in the hell are we going to pay to fix this door!”

#okay this one was A LOT different for me #*throws something mildly spicy at you and scurries back to my cave #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #family video 📼#steddielovemonth #steddie fic #lily writes a fic

59 notes · View notes