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sinsofsummers · 10 months

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undone

2.2k | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel miller worships the day you showed up braless to his fourth of july party. warnings: smut (of course), 18+, mdni. no outbreak au, fourth of july party (forgive him he's from texas), joel's pov, he's a dumb bitch, masturbation (m), pervy!joel but not really, age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel in his early 40s), slight religious slander (not extreme by any means!). note: this is just me dipping my toes into the dbf!joel universe, lemme know what you think! zero editing basically, i'm so sorry, there will probably be more drabbles for this. also this is consolation for the dumb shit holiday that is independence day in the us. i hate it here.

He's anything but religious; he hasn't gone to church since he was a kid. And yet...Joel Miller worships the day you went braless to his Fourth of July party.

Even now, laid in his bed with his arm thrown carelessly across his face and his fist curled tightly around his cock, he's not sure he'll ever recover.

Muffled grunts fall from his lips with every strained tug, and he's sure it sounds something like prayer. Considering the fact that you're as close to heaven as he'll ever get, he'll call it a fair assessment. If it's sacrilege to jerk off to the thought of his best friend's daughter every night...so be it.

He's never been one with any type of remarkable memory, but he knows that the image of your perfect chest peeking at him through the thin thank you'd worn that day would stick with him forever.

You'd blinked up at him with a grin, a bowl of fresh fruit salad prepared to share with the rest of the guests in your hands. A strand of hair had fallen into your eyes and he'd had to fight against every urge and keep his hand down at his side.

What he really wanted to do was brush your hair from your eyes (ever the gentleman), and then replace the spot where his fingers would touch your forehead with his lips. He'd always wondered what your hair might smell like, what shampoo you used in the morning, and how your skin looked when the suds ran down your body, rinsed down the drain.

What he wouldn't give to be the suds running down your radiant skin, to touch every curve and crevice of your body, the spots that never see the light of day.

He hadn't seen you since you'd gone to college. Well, not for more than a few days over your Christmas break each year, and even then...he'd made sure to steer clear of you. Tried to ignore the way your smile made his own stutter, how your arms were always so soft around his neck when you gave him the occasional hug.

How your eyes had begun to linger, just enough to make his jaw clench and his cock twitch.

A strangled sigh fights its way out of his chest as he remembers the events of that fateful party, and just how he's ended up here, cock in hand, your scent in his head, and your name on his tongue.

—

"Jesus Christ," he murmured when you and your dad showed up with your dishes to pass. The backyard had been strewn with red, white, and blue decorations, the perfect image of a typical Texan backyard celebration for Independence Day.

He'd been unable to hide his groan at the way the bright colors practically bled into his skull, but there was no other way to have a Fourth of July party, apparently. Of course, this was really just for tradition, and...well, his younger brother Tommy would have had his head if there weren't at least a few American flag streamers.

Your little white tank had already begun to cling to your skin in the Texas heat, the straps thin. Before he knew it, he was hoping that the sun would do him a favor and kiss your skin where he wished he could. That it might form those pretty little lines along your shoulders and give a warm glow to your face, evidence of your presence at his house, at his party, drinking his beer.

"Drunk already?" your dad's voice roused him from his momentary lapse in judgment and then Joel was getting tugged into a firm handshake and a clapped hand on his shoulder.

He tore his eyes from you and hoped that the pink in his cheeks (that was definitely there) could be mistaken for a quickly setting sunburn. He didn't want to think of what you might take his blush for if you noticed.

He chuckled, shaking his head and returning the handshake. “Hell no,” he answered hastily, “just gettin’ hungry for that fruit salad, man.” And the angel holding it. “Need a hand?” he asked you, forcing his eyes not to wander from yours.

Fuck. Your eyes were extra bright today, with the sun seemingly lighting them from the insides. And those cheeks? Already pink and sunkissed, just how he’d hoped they would be. He might have offered you some sunblock if he’d thought it was appropriate. Might have offered to help you spread it onto your smooth skin if he’d thought that was appropriate.

Of course, he’d be condemned to the darkest circle of hell if he let those thoughts run wild. So he trained his eyes on yours and waited for your response.

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ear. You squinted into the sun, an action that forced one eye closed, as if you were winking at him. “I’ve got it,” you said casually, “can I put it inside for now?” You adjusted your hold on the fruit salad, making your breasts shift under your shirt.

Joel nodded—fuck’s sake, he thought with the movement of your chest—and tilted his head toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “Go for it, Sarah’s already in there.”

Your dad had been called away by Tommy, so Joel was left in your quiet company. He watched your smile widen at the mention of his daughter’s name and felt his heart twinge. You were just a few years older than his daughter, and here he was, not only willing his cock to settle down at the sight of your nipples pressing against the cloth of your shirt, but also wishing that your smile widened at the mention of his name.

Joel wasn’t quite sure what happened in the subsequent minute or how he moved so quickly. Before he knew it, you’d stepped closer to him and he’d stepped to the side, except he was really just getting in your way, and your eyes were widening in surprise, and then the bowl of fruit salad was shuffling in your grip and he was stumbling to get back out of your way and then—

“Shit,” you mumbled a curse. The juice from the contents of the bowl—mostly watermelon juice, it looked like—had splashed up onto your shirt, seeping through the white fabric and painting your chest a pale pink. You looked up, a careless smile replacing the distracted look on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. M, really. I was gonna have to wash this shirt tonight anyway.”

“I—uh, I didn’t mean to,” was all he could come up with, and he could feel his face heating once more at the look on your face. “Shirt’s ruined. I’m sorry darlin’,” he mumbled—was the temperature increasing by the second?—and pretended not to notice the way your shirt clung even tighter to your chest. It was like a damn wet t-shirt contest, the way the darker shade of your nipples began to peek through the soiled fabric at him. He blinked and looked away, trying to ignore the way your smile had turned into a smirk. Have you caught him?

You shrugged and passed the bowl to him. “No, it’s not,” you reassured him with a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure Sarah’s got a shirt or two I can wear.”

He’d been left standing with the bowl of your fruit salad as you’d trekked into the house, presumably to do as you’d said. When you came out just a few minutes later, he’d been talking to your dad and a few of the other neighbors that had come over. He’d almost completely forgotten about the incident, until you were there again, standing in front of him.

In his shirt.

“Uh,” he said dumbly, not sure whether you knew whose shirt you were wearing, or if you’d gone into the wrong laundry pile.

You picked at the hem of the shirt, and he traced the lines of your long fingers with his eyes, practically seeing your sweet scent sink into the fabric. He hoped you could smell his cologne lingering on the collar as it licked against the soft skin of your neck. “Sarah found this in her closet,” you explained, “she said it was one of her sleep shirts.” You flitted your gaze to him, and he caught a glimmer of amusement in the depths of your eyes. “Smells kind of…”

Like me. He shivered despite the heat and tapped his finger on his hip to calm himself down. It smells like me, and now you’re gonna smell like me, angel.

“Like men’s cologne,” you finished with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure Sarah’s not bringing home any guys you don’t know about, Mr. Miller?”

He cocked an eyebrow and bit back a cutting remark. “‘Course not,” he said smoothly, “they’d never get past the front door.”

It was all he could do not to tug you onto his lap with his shirt hanging past your hips, giving the illusion that you weren’t wearing any shorts beneath it. Fuck, he had to get away from your father before he did anything he regretted. “Need another drink, anyone?” he offered, shifting his weight away from you in a failed attempt to get the thoughts out of his mind.

The others shook their heads, but you nodded. “I’ll get another, actually,” you said simply. And then he was stuck with you, his fingers itching to lift that shirt from your body and reveal that warm skin to his desperate mind.

The kitchen was empty—a small blessing—and Joel fished through the fridge for another beer. Handing one to you, he cherished the way your fingers brushed his as you pulled it from his grasp, the droplets of condensation running down the bottle like he knew the sweat was running down his back at the thoughts that swam through his mind.

“S’my shirt, you know,” he grumbled softly, not quite sure why he’d said it. Maybe it was to gauge what your reaction would be. Maybe he already hoped that you’d smile at the thought.

You looked down at the shirt, cheeks reddening. “It is?” you said quietly, the surprise unraveling in your voice. “I’m sorry, I can get another one—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, s’okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Just one word, but he noticed the way your legs wobbled at the same time. The way the bottle slipped just a centimeter in your hand.

Gotcha, he smirked inwardly.

—

Days have gone by, and he still thinks about that blush in your cheeks every night. He can’t help it when you just look so angelic in the shirt of a sinner like him.

Joel’s hand squeezes his cock for all its worth as he strokes himself languidly, faint mumbles beginning to fall from his lips like the verses of a damn hymn. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he groans in the darkness of his room, feeling the pressure build in his body. With every muscle in his chest tensing, he lets a broken sigh escape his throat as he spills his hot seed into his hand, the picture of your face embedded in his mind’s eye. Laying there for a moment, he catches his breath as oxygen raggedly pushes itself in and out of his lungs.

And then he hears it. A knock. The front door, it sounds like.

He hastily cleans himself up, but the faint feeling of stickiness remains on his hand as he traipses down the stairs in the dark, wondering just who the hell would be knocking on his door so late at night.

When he opens the door, he’s not exactly expecting to see the face he’d just come on his hand to.

“Hey,” he chokes out, hiding his hand behind his back as if you might be able to see the evidence of sacrilege on his skin. He’s afraid you’ll be able to decipher the sweat on his forehead for the sinful act that it had come from just moments ago. “What’s up?”

“Oh!” you sound surprised at his answering the door, a fact that makes him smirk. “I’m just…I’m just here to return Sarah’s shirt,” you explain hastily.

There it is, hanging from your loose grip, waiting for him to take it. “You mean mine,” he corrects gently, his grin widening as he feeds his hand up the frame of the door, hovering over you close enough that he can see your pupils widen and pulse at the proximity of his chest to yours.

Your mouth hangs open, just enough that he thinks about pushing his thumb in between your lips, up to the first knuckle. His mind goes wild at the thought of how warm and soft and wet your mouth would be around his fingers. How perfect it would be around even more.

He shoves the thoughts away as you nod. “Yeah,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Yours, I mean. I don’t need it anymore, though. So…” your eyes drop to the shirt between you, your words trailing off.

Joel shakes his head. “Don’t need it back,” he says warmly. “Not yet, anyway. Keep it.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, the thought of you wearing it more than once lighting his mind on fire. “Keep it for now. I’ll come to collect it some other time. No reason to return it in the dead of night, doll.”

Fuck. The nickname had slipped.

But based on the way your lips curl at the corners, he’s dodged a bullet. “Okay,” you say softly, and he swears he can see the moon reflected in your eyes. “Just for a little longer, then.”

He nods and says goodnight, closing the door only when he can see that you’ve made it back to your house next door safely. The door shuts with a soft click, and he grins to himself.

To hell with the shirt. Doesn’t matter to him. He’ll get it back eventually. And when he does, he plans to have it smell like you.

this ending was so rushed ahhhh i have to go to work!!! bye!!!! ty for reading and all the love!!!!

tagging here cause i have to goooo to workkkkk!!!

@mingiast @iluvurfather @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @morning-star-joy @sofiparallel @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @marchai @mlodanatka @xdaddysprincessxx @bongsrconfusing @tlouadditc @dinsdjrn @alejaa-a @daysilva2 @worhols @jellybeanxc @struig @cherryreddarbiter

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emchant3d · 3 days

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💜 Steddie please? - @steddierthings

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss from this prompt meme for @steddierthings !

Eddie doesn’t mean to do it.

It’s late. They’re cleaning up in the kitchen after a midnight snack, movie credits rolling in the living room, a pile of blankets abandoned on the couch. Eddie’s been spending a lot of time at the Harrington house lately for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely, and each evening it ends like this - the two of them side by side, maybe too close, sneaking looks and making excuses to touch. A lingering hand on an elbow, a brush of fingers when handing over a beer, innocent if not for the heat in their eyes when it happens.

They’re on the precipice of something. Balanced on a cliff’s edge and every evening spent together makes him feel like he’s toeing the edge nearer and nearer to falling. Eddie’s been following Steve’s lead, coming when invited, inserting himself into his space when it seems welcome, tucking himself in close and worming his way into the spaces of Steve’s life that he opens up for him.

He’s not a patient man, never has been, and maybe that’s his downfall this time, maybe that’s what makes this particular night the night, but he can’t help it - it’s so plain to him where this is going, where they’re going to end up, and he wants. His blood burns in his veins, but it isn’t desperation that drives him to do it - it’s just another one of those simple, sweet little touches. His own hand lands on Steve’s back as he comes up behind him, slipping a plate they’d missed into the sink where Steve’s doing the dishes, and Steve turns to give him a little grin, maybe tease him, maybe say thank you, Eddie won’t ever know, because he sees that pretty smile aimed at him, those warm eyes catching his own, and he doesn’t think - he just ducks a bit, and he presses his lips to Steve’s, chaste and quick and sweet.

He’s pulled away before he even realizes what he’s done, halfway across the kitchen before his stomach drops and his face goes hot.

He whips back around, eyes wide, finds Steve staring at him with his mouth dropped open in shock and his gaze still fixed on Eddie. His cheeks are flushed pink, he looks so fucking gorgeous, and panic squeezes Eddie’s heart so fucking tight because fuck, fuck he can’t ruin this, not already, not before it’s even begun.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I don’t - I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” Steve interrupts, and he turns fully to face Eddie, hands dripping suds onto the kitchen tile, and Eddie’s voice dies with a strangled sound in his throat. “Don’t apologize. Not unless you regret it.”

“Never,” Eddie says, too fast, shaking his head hard enough to make his hair swing. “I could never regret you.”

Steve holds his gaze and slowly, a smile spreads over his face. “Then get back over here,” he tells him, “and kiss me like you mean it.” And what can Eddie do but obey? He closes the space between them, hands finding Steve’s sides and pulling him in close, laughing when wet hands slide over his shoulders and up into his hair and then they’re kissing, messy and grinning into it, and Steve bites at his lower lip and tugs it with his teeth and Eddie’s laugh turns into a groan.

“Upstairs?” he breathes into Steve’s mouth, and Steve laughs, bright and happy.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pulls away, takes Eddie’s hand, and pulls him to where they both knew they’d end up eventually.

#steddie #answered #ask game

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader [917 words]

Living in a trailer whilst pregnant wasn’t exactly what you had planned out. Living in a trailer whilst pregnant and having your boyfriends uncle as a roommate wasn’t all that great either.

But then again, having a baby at twenty three hadn’t really been all that high on your to do list. But condoms split, conversations were had in Eddie’s arms under bed sheets and life got a little more exciting.

You weren’t far off from being able to afford a place of your own, a little apartment that you and Eddie could call home. A space for a crib, a little room for Eddie’s guitars to hang, your desk and books underneath. And until then, Wayne tried his best to help in every and all ways, bringing home pregnancy books that Janet, the garage’s secretary gave him to loan to you, helping Eddie save up some more cash by giving him extra shifts.

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but you liked it best when Wayne took off for a day or two, spending his weekends out of town on fishing trips with his old college buddies, four of them leaving in the truck with their lines, two tents and a cooler full of beer.

Those were the days you knew you could come home from work and really relax, the less clothing the better, ‘cause as the weeks went on your stomach grew, going from pudgy to hard, faint lines stretching over your skin as if to say, ‘look! Look at what I’m making!”

And as incredible as that was, your jeans didn’t really fit anymore.

You were only around two months, almost two and a half, but the whole job of growing a little human inside of you whilst you also worked your actual job was starting to take its toll. Your feet ached, your muscles hurt and you spent the best part of the morning eyeing the bathroom door, wondering if your breakfast was going to be rejected by what you assumed was going to be your very fussy child.

So by six o’clock, you were walking through the door and you wanted to cry at how the whole trailer smelled like lavender and honey, the sound of the bath tap bubbling into the tub.

Eddie appeared at the sound of the door opening and closing, head poking out of the bathroom and grinning at your watery eyes.

“Baby,” he greeted, knowing how to read you. “Baby.”

“You’re running me a bath?” You sniffed, eyes wide and lips pouting. You were very happy about that, Eddie knew, despite the way your voice wavered. “And you tidied the kitchen?”

You almost hiccuped. The boy was trying his best not to laugh, knowing that it would only set you off even more, pregnancy making you emotionally susceptible to kind gestures and light teasing.

Eddie called you his little minefield.

“There’s even a little somethin’ for you in the fridge,” the boy hummed, greeting you properly by cupping your warm cheeks in his hands, squishing them fondly before dropping a kiss to your lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“M&M’s?” You asked softly.

“The biggest bag I could find,” Eddie answered. But he was coaxing you past the fridge and towards the bathroom, where sweet smelling steam was melting out of the door. “But first, your bath, princess.”

Bubbles and foam almost overflowed the tub, sweet smelling and making the air warm. Eddie whistled as you stripped, grinning when you flushed and tried to frown, holding your outstretched hand to help you in.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Eddie,” you said mournfully as you sank into the hot water, sighing at the way it nipped a little, wrestling out the knots in your back. “I look like someone stuck a bike pump in me.”

You were exaggerating, you knew that. You were nowhere near as big as you knew you were going to get, but your ankles were swollen and your tummy felt tighter than it did last week, your belly button sticking out for the first time ever.

The boy tutted, moving to sit on the tiles by the tub, an arm dropping into the suds to find a leg. His fingers curled around your calf, soft and affectionate as he traced lines along the tired muscles there.

“Don’t make me argue with a pregnant lady,” he commented mildly, “you’re fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty, pretty girl.”

You sunk a little further into the bubbles, eyes turning softer at his words. Eddie was gazing down at you, brown eyes doting.

“You spoil me,” you told him and he could hear the thanks there, the sweetness, the sincerity.

The tap dripped, some bubbles fizzed and Eddie hummed, a low soft laugh.

“You’re carrying my hellspawn, baby,” he told you, his palm soothing it’s way up your leg. He found the dough of your inner thigh and squeezed, hand moving upupup until it cupped the swell of your belly. “Runnin’ you a bath is the least I could do.”

You snorted, foamy bubbles blowing into the air at your huff. “S’not a hellspawn.”

Eddie’s brows rose into his curls, a smile stretching prettily over his face. He looked at you disbelievingly. “No?” He mused. “I’ll be sure to remember that when little Beelzebub is kicking your bladder at four am.”

You pouted, hand reaching out to poke at the boy’s chin, smiling when he pretended to bite at your finger.

“Fine,” you relented. “They’re not a hellspawn, right now. They do want M&M’s though.”

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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babybluebex · 2 years

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𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | after an incident with your bully, eddie takes matters into his own hands to help you feel better. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | eddie munson (stranger things, 2022) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | bullying, brief violence, mentions of blood, angst & fluff, everyone in this is 18+ and if you aren't, you shouldn't be reading it! 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞| this story means a lot to me, because i wrote it how i want and not thinking about what would work bets to get the most notes. i wrote this during my brief little hiatus and it means a super lot to me, so enjoy!

You slammed open the door to the trailer, your vision blurry with tears. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it. Your shirt felt sticky as it molded itself to your chest, and you sniffled, trying to keep quiet. Knowing Eddie, he was asleep, and you were thankful. Maybe you could get the stain out without questioning.

You weren’t nearly that lucky. As you stripped the soiled shirt over your head, you stepped into the kitchen, and you saw Eddie sitting at the small, rickety table. He seemed preoccupied with a Dungeons and Dragons book, his eyes skimming the page as he nursed a bottle of beer, but stopped reading the moment he heard your sniffles. “Hey,” he said urgently, setting his book down. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You said nothing. How could you possibly explain to him what had happened? Of course, on the surface, it seemed easy to explain: Heather, your tormentor, had it out for you and had splashed a drink on you. Heather had been teasing you and bullying you ever since you first came to Hawkins in middle school and now, a few months shy of graduation, it seemed she was upping the ante. You knew exactly why she was too, and it was the exact reason why you couldn’t tell Eddie: it was him.

Ever since you started dating Eddie, Heather and her cronies had become uncontrollable. There had been countless incidents in the past and you hadn’t told Eddie about any of them. He himself was already treated poorly by your peers, and you didn’t want him to suffer because of you, so you kept it all to yourself. That was starting to bubble up and boil over, though, and your crying became harder.

“M’sorry,” you sniffled, scrubbing at the shirt underneath the kitchen faucet. It was Eddie’s shirt, his coveted Hellfire Club shirt, and you knew that was why Heather had targeted you in the first place at lunch that day. “Spilled a drink, I-I’m just clumsy. Go back to your book, don’t worry about it.”

Eddie stood by you, his brown eyes full of concern. “Well, I am gonna worry about it,” he told you. “You’re crying, something happened.”

“Nothing happened,” you insisted quickly. The suds in the sink were growing with the running water, and you quickly turned the handle and shut the tap off. “Please believe me.”

“I don’t,” Eddie told you, and he reached out for your hands. When you turned away from him, though, Eddie’s big eyes softened. “You’re crying way too hard for just spilling a drink. And it’s the middle of the day and you have that geometry test this afternoon. You wouldn’t skip that. Tell me what happened.”

“Eddie, God, listen to me!” you whined. “Nothing happened! I’m just upset because it’s your shirt, it’s gonna stain…”

“It’s just a shirt, baby,” Eddie chuckled lightly, like he didn’t really believe in his own laughter. “I can make another one, it’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” you told him, and Eddie’s arms finally captured you around your waist, tugging you close into his warm body. The safety of his chest, his comforting smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne, the reassuring beat of his heart; it was all too much, and you turned and sobbed into his chest.

“Baby,” Eddie whispered, his hands smoothing down your back comfortingly. “Baby, baby, calm down. Look at me, tell me what happened.” His hands lifted up to your face and lightly touched your cheeks, and his thumb smoothed down your cheekbone. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, and Eddie placed a gentle kiss on your mouth. When he pulled away, his eyebrows were furrowed, his face a slate of seriousness. “I know you aren’t crying over staining my shirt. What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t bear it anymore, and you pressed your face forward, touching your forehead to his chest. “D-During lunch, Heather came a-and threw her drink on me. I-I—”

“Fuckin’ Heather again?” Eddie seethed, his teeth clenched. “I thought you said she backed off!”

“No,” you shook your head, sniffling. “I-I never said that, I-I just stopped telling you about it.”

You could tell that he was hurt by you keeping things from him. Eddie always wore his heart right on his sleeve, and the redness in his cheeks was clue enough for you to know that he was upset. “Well, what did she do?” Eddie asked.

“Does it matter?” you muttered, and Eddie’s big hands captured your cheeks again and forced your face up to look at him in the eye.

“Yes, it fucking matters!” Eddie exclaimed. “What did she do to you?”

“Sh-She…” you began. “She said… She came up to me, I-I was just walking to the table… I saw Dustin, he waved at me, a-and I… She didn’t even try to make it look like an accident, she just did it. Splashed it on me and laughed, a-and she said…” You trailed off, pausing to catch your breath, and Eddie’s grip faltered on your face for just a moment. “She said ‘say hi to your freak for me’ or something…”

“Jesus,” Eddie mumbled. “She only did it because I wasn’t there.”

“No, Eddie, no,” you sighed. “She would have done it anyway.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” Eddie told you. “If it’s me she’s got the problem with, she can talk to me. Jesus Christ, baby, I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of my bullshit.”

“I’m used to it,” you sniffled, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Eddie’s reaction, his eyes going big and his pink mouth opening in shock. “No! I-I mean, I’m used to Heather’s shit, n-not—”

“No, no, you’re absolutely right,” Eddie said, nodding. “I wrap you up in my shit time and time again, and now they’re targeting you. That’s not right, baby, I’m so sorry.” His arms went around you tightly, and he squeezed you close to him. “So, what happened after that? You just walked out?”

“Yeah,” you uttered. “I just couldn’t… Everyone was laughing at me.”

“No, they weren’t,” Eddie mumbled, trying to soothe you, but you sniffled and wrestled yourself out of his arms.

“Yes, they were!” you whimpered. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see it! They were all laughing! I-I just ran…” You turned back to the sink, to where Eddie’s shirt hung limply in the sudsy water, the brown soda stain still in the white fabric. “I always fucking run.”

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, and he pulled you back into his arms once more. His front molded against your back perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, and he placed a kiss to your shoulder, just next to the strap of your bra. “I’m sorry that happened, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. Is there anything I can do to help you fix this?”

You shook your head, your hands drifting to lay on top of his. Your head hurt from how hard you had been crying, and you sniffled and melted back into Eddie’s body, grabbing his hands tightly. “I love you,” you whispered. You didn’t know what else to say.

“I love you too,” Eddie whispered back, and he kissed the back of your head. “Go take a shower and lay down, baby, I can finish this. It’ll be fine, okay? Will the school call your parents? Are you gonna get in trouble?”

“Probably,” you sighed. “But I’m staying here for now. I don’t… I just need you.”

You did as Eddie asked of you, cleaning the sticky Tab off of your arms and chest in a hot shower, and you settled yourself in Eddie’s bed. His blankets smelled so strongly of him, of the smell of his body and hair, and you wriggled yourself into a warm nest as you heard Eddie in the kitchen. He was speaking to someone, likely Dustin on his little walkie talkie, based on certain words you caught: “Hellfire” and “Heather” and “Did she really…”.

Eventually, by the time sleepiness was making your eyelids sticky, Eddie slowly opened the bedroom door with a quick but quiet knock. “Hi, princess,” he said softly. “So, good news: I got the stain out. The Hellfire shirt lives to see another day.”

“That’s good,” you whispered, pulling the blankets up to your chin. Eddie slowly made his way to the bed and he carefully sat down, as if any quick movements would startle you too much. His hand lightly touched your cheek, tracing your cheekbone, and you reached out of the blanket and curled your fingers into his. “Who were you talking to?”

“Dustin and Mike,” Eddie said. “They were telling me everything that had happened. Baby, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You shrugged and sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” you said. “You have your own shit to deal with, I didn’t want you to worry about my shit too.”

“Baby,” Eddie said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair out of your tired eyes. “They’re teasing you about me. It’s okay to tell me.”

“But…” you started. “I didn’t want you to feel bad about yourself.”

“Does it look like I do?” Eddie chuckled. “Listen, I’ll deal with this, I don’t want you worrying about it anymore.”

“How’re you gonna deal with it?” you asked, your heart suddenly racing. Eddie wasn’t violent, nor did he necessarily have the people skills required to talk it out, and you started to sit up and protest, “Eddie—”

Eddie shushed you gently, and he put his hand on your shoulder to push you back down to bed. “I told you, I’ll handle it,” he said. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, okay?”

As much as you wanted to protest, you couldn’t help but believe him. He would take care of his shit, and apparently yours too, as much as you hated for him to worry about you and your bullshit. You knew him, and you knew that he wouldn’t break his word to you.

“Are you going to talk to them now?” you asked, and Eddie nodded.

“Dustin told me that Lucas said they’re having a party tonight,” Eddie told you. “I’m gonna go and just talk to Heather, see what her fuckin’ problem is.”

“Okay,” you mumbled. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Babe,” Eddie chuckled, and he shrugged. “I’m me. When have I ever done anything stupid?” He paused for a second, just long enough for you to roll your eyes at him, and he added, “Actually, don’t answer that. How about you go ahead and take a nice nap, and I’ll be home by the time you wake up?”

Eddie left you with one last kiss on your lips, and he kept his word to you. You drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep, and you felt everything happening through a veil. You weren’t sure how long Eddie was gone, but you heard him come back into the trailer after the sun had stopped shining through the windows. He didn’t come into the bedroom for a long time, but, when he finally did, you sensed him sitting on the floor beside the bed as opposed to on it, right next to you. He watched you in your twilight sleep for a moment, and you finally opened your eyes to see him.

His eyes were big and wet as he watched you sleep, but you couldn’t even focus on his lovely eyes. His nose was stained red with blood, his upper lip bearing the same red stains, his bottom lip bruised and bloody as well. “Eddie,” you gasped, snapping awake and alert in a moment. “Jesus! What happened to you?”

“I tried to talk to Heather,” Eddie told you gently. He tenderly touched your chin, letting his thumb touch your bottom lip, and he said, “I showed up and everyone started acting all fucked up, like, I knew I wasn’t welcome, right? Anyway, I found her and was just trying to talk, but she kept raising her voice, y’know? Talking over me and shit. Her boyfriend eventually came and was making it worse, and he threw a punch at me.”

“Eddie,” you gasped and reached out for his face. It looked like his nose had been bleeding at one point and was stopped for now, red bloodstains on his shirt from the drip of it, and he winced every time he touched his lip. “Baby, what the fuck, are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” Eddie said. “He didn’t break my nose or anything, so it’ll be fine.”

You sighed heavily and rolled out of bed, and you yawned as you went into the bathroom in pursuit of anything that might help clean him up. You searched through the cabinet and under the sink, until you finally found a little bottle of hydrogen peroxide, almost completely empty. It was better than nothing, though, so you grabbed it, along with a towel that hung on the back of the bathroom door, and you came back to Eddie.

He was still sitting on the floor, and you made camp next to him before dotting some peroxide on the corner of the towel. “Let me see you,” you mumbled, gently turning Eddie’s face to look at you, and you tenderly began to clean up his lip. He winced and hissed at the sting of it against his wound, and it was your turn to gently shush him. “I know, baby,” you whispered.

Quickly, Eddie’s hand fell to your waist, and he tugged you into his lap. Your legs parted around his waist as you sat, and his arms were tight around your middle as he hugged you and settled his face in your chest. “Can we do that later?” he asked softly. “I just need you right now.”

“Baby, what happened to you?” you asked with a frown, and you set aside the towel and bottle to press Eddie’s head close to your heart. His hair was soft as you carded your fingers through it, and you gently kissed his head.

“He said somethin’ ‘bout you,” Eddie mumbled. “Something real nasty, called you… Whatever, doesn’t matter. But he had been hitting me and I just couldn’t take it anymore… I threw a punch back. I think I broke his nose.” He laughed a little, just a small huff out of his nose, but you knew that he was bothered by his actions. Eddie wasn’t mean or violent, like everyone in Hawkins thought he was, but now he had just gone and proved them right.

You held Eddie tight, smoothing down his hair and letting him hold you back just as tightly. He definitely needed that extra bit of loving, and you kissed his head gently. “I love you, Eddie,” you whispered, and he grabbed at your shirt, holding you right against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat on your stomach, his head situated right over your own heart, and he planted a kiss on your chest.

“Love you too, baby,” he mumbled.

You sighed and played with his hair a little more, and you whispered, “My mighty protector. Wait until Hellfire hears about this, you’re turning into your DnD character, baby.”

“Protecting princesses and shit,” Eddie chuckled, and you knew that your man was back. “All in a day’s work.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fanfic #my writing

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madsnowstorm · 1 year

Text

take me home for christmas | j. seresin | part one

please come home for christmas - charles brown

summary : jake wants to take you home to texas for christmas to meet his family.

warnings — series, 18+, fem!reader, established relationship, some angst, family dynamics (both healthy and not), mentions of therapy, no religious aspect to the holiday, dogs named after famous texans

notes — i've been on a soft boy!jake kick lately and was totally inspired by holiday traditions.

series masterlist

Jake Seresin did not beg. Most of that was due to him almost always getting his way. Sometimes it was due to his southern charm, other times it was because he did not accept no as an answer. He would fight and argue and flirt his way to his desired outcome…but he did not beg. That is why he caught you off guard around the end of November. You were both cleaning the dishes after hosting Friendsgiving for all your friends that couldn’t make it back home for the holiday. You’d just handed him the last dish to dry when he cleared his throat. You tipped your head in curiosity.

“Would you consider going home with me for Christmas?” You froze. Jake had a huge family made up of his parents, four siblings and their partners, and a whole horde of nieces and nephews. You’d heard plenty of stories about all of their Seresin family traditions for the holidays. Jake would always get a certain nostalgic gleam in his bright green eyes whenever he talked about them. It stood in stark contrast to how you spent holidays growing up.

You bounced back and forth between your parents and it almost always ended up with them trying to outdo one another. Snide remarks and rude questions about how the other parent was doing were the only holiday traditions you had. Once college came around you were thankful for choosing a school, and subsequently a career, on the other side of the country. It made avoiding holidays easier. In fact, you didn’t really start to enjoy holidays until you began dating Jake.

The two of you actually met at a New Year’s Eve party and even that night he taught you to appreciate the bubbles of champagne and the sentiment of Auld Lang Syne and the fun surprise of a midnight kiss. On Valentine’s Day you didn’t go an hour without some sort of sickly sweet, yet adorable, token of affection. Your birthday was full of flowers and doting. The Fourth of July informed you about the importance of a perfect char from the grill and the best American beer. Even Friendsgiving, which you took part in for the first time earlier that evening, was full of warmth and spices and gratitude like you’d never experienced. (As well as the National Dog Show which you never watched before, but were thoroughly invested in by the end) But Christmas with family? It created a sense of dread deep in your stomach.

“Darlin’?” That’s when you noticed he was standing there, dishcloth thrown over his shoulder, eyes shadowed with concern. You looked down at your hands which were shoved under the soapy water. You quickly pulled them out of the, making sure to pull the stopper so the suds could drain. Jake handed you the dishcloth from his shoulder. You wiped your hands with the damp towel. “Did you hear me?” His tone was not accusatory, but kind.

“Yes.” You took a breath and then let out a slow exhale. At this point, you could tell he knew something was up, but was patiently letting you work through your thoughts and emotions. “I…Just let me finish cleaning this up.” At this point your need for control was taking over. Even though time and therapy stood between you and the pains and aches of your childhood, sometimes all it took was one word or moment to bring old feelings back. Cleaning was one of things you knew you could easily control. The routine of it helped center your mind. Jake knew this and instead of fighting you to help you finish he just nodded.

“Alright sweetheart. I’m going to take Nelson out for a quick walk and then lock up for the night. I won’t be gone long.” Nelson was his Irish Setter that had been named after Willie Nelson. As you got the cleaning caddy out from its spot underneath the kitchen sink you could hear him talking to Nelson about not barking his head off if he saw the neighbors cat.

You got to work on cleaning the kitchen. The first thing on your mental checklist was to wipe down the kitchen sink, making the stainless steel shine. Once the sink was done you moved onto the countertops. The brightness of the lemon scented multi purpose cleanser almost brought you back to the warm feelings you were having before thinking back on your childhood. After the countertops you made sure the stovetop was spotless. The last things you did were sweeping and running the Swiffer over the floor. You wanted to get the mop and its bucket out, but it was already getting late when you started. The back and forth motions gave you something to match your breathing to, which aided in calming you down as you thought about your boyfriend’s question.

Jake knew how you felt about holidays. Why would he ask you to go home with him? Except, you knew why he asked. He was so good at pushing you out of your comfort zone, while also offering you a safe place to land. It made trying new experiences easier. There were so many things in your life you’d convinced yourself you didn’t enjoy because of your parents. Your therapist brought this to your attention before you met Jake, but having him with you made you brave. Perhaps this time was no different.

You tucked the caddy back where it belonged once you were finished, washed your hands, and then took a moment to survey your work. It was gleaming, almost sparkling, and no one would even know there were twelve people packed in the house earlier that night. You smiled thinking over all of Jake’s Navy buddies and their partners scattered all around the house, turning off the light as memories filled your head. You’d been hesitant about that too, but you’d not had a better Thanksgiving.

“All done, sweetheart?” Jake asked as you walked into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, laptop balanced on his lap, Nelson napping at his feet. You weren’t sure when they’d gotten back from their walk. Time got away from you while in the kitchen. He looked so comfortable and so at ease with the world. You envied that.

“Mhmm.” You nodded and sat on the other side of the couch. He closed his laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and opened his arms. You crawled into them and Jake pulled you closer, placing you on his lap. The room filled with your giggles and his low chuckles. “I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

“Alright. Let’s talk then.” Jake moved his fingers over your face, pushing your hair back. You didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, but it stoked a fire in you. Your boyfriend, who was so arrogant and brash, could be so sweet with you. “What do you think about coming to Texas with me for Christmas?” You took a moment, eyes roaming over his face, before answering.

“The thought of it makes me nervous.” Instead of interrupting you as you’d expected, he patiently waited for you to continue. “You know about how things were for me growing up.” Jake nodded, running his hands up and down your back. If he kept it up, you would soon be putty in his hands. “The idea of spending a holiday with your family makes those childhood feelings resurface.”

“Babe, I understand what you are saying and why those emotions are coming back to the surface, but I know in the deepest part of my heart that this would be a Christmas different from any you’ve experienced.” The sincerity in his voice wanted to make you melt.

“But what if your family doesn’t like me?” You’d yet to meet the Seresin clan. Plans had been made for Jake’s parents to come and visit the previous summer, but due to an unexpected detachment for Jake, those plans were put on hold. You knew your question sounded so juvenile, but it was one of your biggest insecurities.

“They already love you.” It took all your will power to not roll your eyes at that.

“They don’t know me!” You didn’t count the occasional awkward conversations on speaker phone in Jake’s kitchen as you worked on dinner as knowing someone.

“I love you therefore they have no choice but to love you too.” His belief about it was sweet, but in your opinion completely unrealistic.

“That’s not how that works, J.” You countered with a laugh.

“Please, love? I want you to know them and them to know you. I love you and I know they will too. You’ve told me about how things were for you growing up and how toxic the holiday’s could be. Let me, let us, show you that things can be different.” He kissed your cheek, followed by your nose, and lastly your lips. Jake Seresin never begged, but he was begging now. You knew that meant he thought this trip was important.

“Okay, Jake. Take me home for Christmas.” Jake kissed you again, this kiss lasting longer than the previous. You moved your hands from his shoulders to the nape of his neck. Slowly, your fingers moved up into his hair, scraping your nails lightly against his scalp. He groaned, moving his lips from yours, over your jaw and down your neck. “You know where else you can take me?”

“Where is that, darlin’?” His accent was thicker than it was moments again.

“To bed.” He didn’t waste a moment, picking you up and yelling out to his Google home to turn off the living room light, all in the same breath. You both laughed as he tried to carefully make it to the stairs.

“Don’t let me fall!” You squealed as he started to climb them.

“I would never.” The playful tone in his voice was gone. Instead he was now serious. The look in his eyes took your breath away. You’d never met a man like this; a man who could cause your heart to both go crazy and to stop without warning. Despite his constant need to be an arrogant asshole most of the time, you knew that mostly an act. The real Jake was the one who was currently holding you. The one who loved you and wanted to take you home to meet the family. The one that made being brave worth it.

Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad this year.

#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin series #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fic #top gun imagine #jake seresin fic

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; OMG HI! I saw that you followed me back so i wanted to drop in and share some love here💕💕 I think you already know but i really, really love your content!! I also saw that you have Valentines blurbs open, i find the combo of "listening to music together while they both take the day to clean around the house (maybe even getting a little distracted to dance instead)" and “come here, hold my hand.” “you’re washing the dishes.” “..i can do both…” extremely cute :) so if you feel inspired that could be an idea for mr. Maybank himself! :) but absolutely no pressure!! In the end i'm here to read anything you'll decide to publish, keep up the marvelous work!!

warnings; fluff, strongly suggest you listen to the song added for a better reading experience as it’s the one use in the blurb and i adore it, characters are older here

pairing; jj maybank x reader

authors note; happy valentine’s day ! ofc i followed you, you seem so sweet and i have noticed and i appreciate that <3 thank you for requesting, please feel free to still sent a combination for a blurb ! i’ll still be doing them even if sent after v day.

list of prompts in honor of valentine’s day

A bomb went off.

In your’s and JJ’s shared apartment, that is.

The bedroom and bathroom were seemingly tidy compared to the rest of the home, leaving the kitchen and living room.

JJ has this horrid habit of leaving every pair of shoes he wears kicked off by the entry door.

JJ has another distasteful habit of leaving crushed beer cans to rot after he’s finished with them.

But the two of you have created a habit together.

Sounds just ‘lovey-dovey’ doesn’t it ?

Not the way the monstrous sink is staring at JJ, and JJ is staring at it.

You’ve both been initiating a nasty, nasty habit of throwing a dish in the sink. Wether it be early in the morning when you’d both be in a rush to get to work— having a bowl of cereal, throw it in the sink, and go. Or right after dinner, the pair would be so sleep-ridden and obsessively touching eachother so much, that they couldn’t muster an attention span for dishes.

Only an attention span for eachother.

But now, it’s caused a clutter-fest that’s not attainable enough for you to live in. So, all day yesterday you’d sent JJ texts that today would be cleaning day, and that from now on there will always be one. Though JJ was secretly rolling his eyes toward his phone that day, he was certain he’d make the most out of his only off day, with you.

He thought he’d have grow ill any moment if the both of your schedules didn’t line up soon enough.

Nevertheless, he’s at the sink humming and covering his hands in soapy suds.

All while stealing glances at you.

You were sweeping about the hard wood floors of the living room— the beer cans have a pile of there own. A playlist of yours streaming with gleam from the smart tv.

JJ hummed because he knew every song word for word— not by choice, you’d played those same songs numerous times and he tagged along.

You’ve had his eardrums delighted by the new discoveries of indie and alternative that you introduced him to.

Now it’s all he can listen to.

“Babyyy …”

JJ cooed, hoping you’d give into his antics just this once.

Your nature was so pure, too pure to refuse.

Entirety of your frame swaying as you swept, and he noted every detail. The flyaways of your tresses sticking every which way— cleaning tended to take it out of you. Delicate skin untouched— but begging to be. Lips jutted out in concentration, with a jaw that’s sleek and admirable. Leggings that intimately delved in all the right places

You peered at him, wifebeater giving way for exposure of his chest. Locks perched on either side of his temple, red cap backwards with the smallest pout beginning to form

“What, J?”

“C’mere.”

He forwarded a come here motion, placing a plate on the drying mat— a pile high, thankfully he’d be nearing a finish soon. You tilt your head in disbelief, he’d promised to get the cleaning done; no fucking around.

But instead …

“Wash the dishes, JJ.”

“Haven’t touched you in like … 2 hours.”

JJ mumbled beneath his breath but loud enough for you to hear. His gesture wasn’t for only his own pleasure, he wanted to subside your thought that this ‘has to get done today’.

“45 minutes.”

You corrected, whilst a shit eating grin is plastered on JJ’s face.

“Come here, hold my hand.”

“You’re washing the dishes.”

“.. I can do both, you know I’m a multitasker, baby,” He proposed. “Like when I do that thing with my mouth that you like while caressing your sweet, sweet face-“

“Alright, alright!”

JJ would take things to great length, just to be within a fingertips touch.

You saunter over to him, with a ‘you got me’ expression. The steaming water running, with a coffee mug and a bowl left, He takes your much smaller hand inside of his, squeezing it with intricate and fragile like tendencies— thinking that with any wrong move he’d break you.

It was cool against the granite countertop, but with the overwhelming warmth of JJ’s hand it subsided.

Fondess with one hold.

“Shit, shit, shit …”

JJ struggled to keep the coffee mug afloat— hold a bit tighter on you hand. Soap suds making their way to the counter, a two minute task elongated due to his unwillingness to to leave you untouched.

“Thought you were a multitasker, baby?” You giggle into his muscular arm.

“Only when it comes to you.”

Even if my heart stops beating

You're the only thing I need, ooh, with me

The first words of that song, not just any song in particular begun to play. Silence struck between the two, the captivating lyrics to Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood. The extra slip in your heart beat that it gave, the captivation, the love-struck sensation that the melody gave you and JJ.

“J, it’s our song!”

“Our song, pretty girl.”

Even if the Earth starts shaking

You're the only thing worth taking, ooh, with me

JJ agreed, both sets of eyes in awe of the others— seeming like it was the first time.

In instinct, he turned off the hot water. Lying firm hands directly to your waste, whilst you looped yours lazily around his neck, foreheads gravitating towards the others whilst you both swayed endlessly.

Even if the sky's on fire

Got you here, it's alright, ooh, with me

And if it's all over

I'm taking this moment, ooh, with me

Yeah

In the middle of the kitchen floor, shared tight-lipped smiles.

JJ mouthed the words to you, relying on every one of them to say what went unsaid in that Godforsaken moment.

It ached— his insides ached in the best way possible.

A connection.

So sacred, it couldn’t be touched.

Pretty boy, you did this with me, boy

Now it's all about to end

Baby girl, look where we made it, girl

Hmm, now we're falling

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 7 months

Text

Fuckin' with the Ecosystem- Chapter 2

Characters: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Summary: You spend your Sunday afternoon with Carmy, by your side, trying to make sense of the piles of disorganized paperwork. You finally have a chance to ask what happened to his brother, only to regret it after finding out the answer. You start to realize you might be there for more than just financial guidance.

Warnings: Angst, Suicide mentions, Alcohol.

A/n: I'm really excited writing this series. It's been awhile since writing something like this. I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think! Any feedback would be amazing. If there's any other ideas you have in mind about our Carmy, my requests are open!

Here's chapter one, if haven't read yet.

Enjoy :)

It was a Sunday evening, and after officially a week of being at 'The Original Beef of Chicagoland,' you were no were nowhere closer to telling Carmy the legal or financial status of his restaurant.

It took you half the week to just organize the random letters and scraps of paper laying in boxes. With that, there was still portions missing.

Carmy came through the swinging doors with two plates. He placed your plate on the desk and scooted a chair closer to you. He felt bad about dropping this bomb on you. But even worse now, because you came in every day this week to get on top of this mess.

When he found out that you were coming in today, there was no doubt that he was coming in too, even though the restaurant was closed. He didn't say anything though, knowing you would try and convince him not to come in.

You looked up and gave him a grateful smile picking up the plate of pasta and swapping your pen for a fork.

"Don't go too hard on me. It's whatever I could lay my hand on." He said with his mouth half full.

You rolled my eyes, like you were going to be judging him on his culinary skills right now. Especially, after everything you saw in the previous job.

You stabbed the penne pasta with your fork and shoved it in your mouth, not really caring about the taste. You started to notice how hungry you really were. The taste was the last thing on your mind. Saying that, it was delicious.

You both sat in silence, scoffing down the food as fast as possible. Carmy took the cleared plates from you and worked his way back to the kitchen.

As he rinsed the last bit of suds off the plates, he paused a moment and went over to the mini fridge in the corner of the kitchen. He took out two chilled bottles, thinking that you need something to help you relax after searching through piles of paper all day.

After a few moments, he popped back through the doors with two beers in his hand.

"Thanks." You smiled, taking the cold beer from him.

"I wish we had somethin' stronger than this, but 'aven't found my brother's hidden stash yet." Carmy put the lip of the bottle on the edge of the desk and slammed his hand down on it.

The cap popped off and fell onto the ground and he took a swig of his beer.

"He has one?" You asked, trying the same move as he just did with his bottle.

You slammed your hand onto it but at the wrong angle. Your hand ended up punching the desk and you felt the pain traveling up your arm.

"Fuck" You muttered wincing.

You look over to see Carmy holding back a smile and reached over to take the bottle off of you.

"Very smooth" He broke into a snicker before doing the same maneuver on your bottle with ease.

"Fuck you" You smirked back, snatching the bottle off of him and bringing it to your mouth.

You looked over to see him leaning back on the chair with his legs straight out in front of him. Your feet leaning against his awkwardly in the smallest office in Chicago.

"How's Nick?" He asked, playing with the beer label.

"Uh.. I wouldn't know" You were caught off guard by the question. Since coming into town, you and him haven't really had the chance to talk about anything other than work.

"We broke up a year ago." You eventually said taking a glance up at him.

Thank fuck, he thought to himself

"Shit, sorry, I didn't know" He hummed taking another drink.

"Nah, it's fine. The relationship was past its expiry. It was becoming toxic as hell." You glanced up at him with a soft smile.

"You were right though" You continued after a moment of silence.

Carmy looked up with slight confusion, wondering what you were talking about.

"He was lying to me, about... well pretty much everything." You explained, feeling the sinking feeling in your heart.

You remembered finding out about all the lies. That the person you had spent so much time with had lied about everything good in his life. You didn't know him at all.

A memory sparked in Carmy's mind, he was back in New York. He was at a bar with you. After begging him week after week to go out for a drink with you, he gave in. Too many beers later, he blurted out his real thoughts on Nick. Looking back, he couldn't help but cringe on the way he acted. He couldn't even remember the exact words he said. But he remembers your reaction and the hurt in her eyes.

"W-What did I even say?" Carmy asked, squinting his eyes trying to think back harder.

You thought back to the memory. The loud music, sticky bar table and Carmy's messy hair across from you. You remember smelling beer on his breath and his words were slightly slurred. The haze in his eyes was getting thicker.

"Um.. you said that Nick was full of shit." You recalled and then smiled to yourself when you remembered more.

"And I quote 'He's playing you like a fuckin' fiddle'" Feeling a smirk climb onto your face.

Carmy rubbed his mouth down with his hand trying to hide his smile. But a smile broke through anyway.

"Jesus, I really have a way with words." He scoffed to himself, taking another gulp from the bottle.

You quietly laughed, bringing the beer up to your mouth.

Carmy brought his hand to his hair to scratch his head. He felt ashamed for his raw words. But he was grateful that you didn't hold it against him.

To say he struggled socially would be an understatement. He felt too awkward sometimes, to the point where he would be uncomfortable. Over the years of moving the way he did, he rarely had more than one or two friends at most. Those friends were mostly work colleagues.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" You asked bringing him out of thought.

He nodded, putting his empty beer bottle on the desk.

"How did your brother..." You trailed off, not knowing how to phrase your question.

"He killed himself, shot himself in the head," Carmy's said bluntly, crossing his arms avoiding eye contact with you. His stare never leaving the floor.

You stared at him and didn't say a word. For some reason, you just thought he died in a car accident. Your mind went blank for a moment only to realise what Carmy might be going through.

"Fuck Carmy, I'm so sor-"

"Don't." He interrupted, shaking his head.

"It's fine. Really." He shrugged getting up abruptly to the point it startled you a little.

He grabbed his empty beer bottle and gestured at you to see if you wanted another one.

You nodded absent-minded, still digesting the bomb he dropped on you.

He went to the kitchen and shook his head in annoyance while walking to the fridge. He felt like a shithead saying something like that so plainly. He didn't want to scare you away. It didn't help that he walked away straight after saying it.

Well fuckin' done, smooth as always, he thought to himself on his way to the fridge.

He came back with two new bottles and cracked them open with ease again. He placed yours on the desk in front of you.

You both sat there, not saying a word. He was never the type that was good with words. Usually talking got him into more trouble. His family were blunt and to the point. No feelings were ever spared in the household. He didn't want to be that way. Since moving away, he always made an effort to get better at communicating.

You looked over to see his leg shaking non stop. It was dumb for you to bring up his brother. You could have asked anyone else, and they would have told you.

You gulped down the last of your first one and pushed it onto the desk. Carmy held the neck of the bottle, resting it between his legs. He shifted in his seat, making you glance over at him.

"I didn't mean to unload this on you. For some reason, I thought you knew. It's fuckin' stupid for me to think that." He leaned forward resting his arms on his thighs.

"I-I'm sorry," He continued, resting his hand on your arm, looking up through his lids.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, the warmth of his hand on your wrist.

"You're the last person that's should apologise." You gave a weak smile resting your hand on top of his.

You both sat there, not saying anything. The peace you felt between both of you was something you missed since going your separate ways. You notice that his leg shake slowed down to a halt.

"If you need someone, you know I'm here, right?" You angled your head making sure to keep eye contact.

"Yea- yeah I know" He nodded pulling away and leaning back into his chair.

Since moving back to Chicago, he hasn't had a moment to himself to think. He didn't know if he even wanted one. He felt that if he stopped for one brief moment, that everything would catch up. His thoughts, feelings and grief. Him being next to you, gave him comfort. Having someone who knew him before his life turned into a shitshow. His old life where it was stressful but not chaotic. Not the way it is now.

He took out his pack of cigarettes, taking one out before turning the pack to you.

You quit smoking a year ago but didn't have the heart to deny his offer, especially after the heart wrenching conversation. You took one and got up from your seat grabbing the coat from the chair. You followed him out behind the building. His cigarette held between his lips as his zipped up his wool jacket shielding him from the sharp breeze. It was becoming dark, the fall evenings really settling in Chicago.

Carmy searched his pockets and pulled out a pink transparent lighter, flicking it with his thumb a couple of times before a small flame emitted from it. A glow was cast on his face, with the end of his smoke burning bright orange.

You gazed at him with the weight of guilt in your stomach. You started to think that maybe you weren't just there for management guidance. Maybe you were there for support. It was hard to tell, Carmy was never the type to speak his thoughts. That's what made this so difficult. How do you ask someone about something so sensitive?

You gave a quick smile as he leaned the lighter to you. You inhaled watching the cigarette catch a light before feeling the smoke travel down to your lungs. You exhaled letting out a sigh of relief, forgetting the bliss that smoking gave you. He looked up with his lip curled at the end blowing smoke out his nose.

"It's been awhile" You looked over smiling softly.

He gave a slight nodded, scratching his upper lip with his thumb while holding the cig.

Your denim jacket wasn't doing you any favors in this unforgiving cold, you brought your arms closer to your body. You didn't think Chicago was going to be this cold into Fall and took note that you needed to buy a heavier one.

"How long can you stay?" He asked walking over and sitting down to the weathered wooden bench.

You take a seat beside him thinking about your response.

"Uhhh, great question." You licked your lips after another pull.

How do you break it to him that you lost your job 3 months ago.

You clicked your pen over and over, sitting in the office on a late weeknight. As you looked at the roster for the upcoming weeks you double checked the bookings to make sure enough staff was around for the busy season to come. With people taking their PTO, it was a challenge every year that always left you with a nightmare to figure out. The knock on the door broke your focus and you looked up to see Vince popping his head in.

"Hey Vince" You smiled leaning back on the office chair.

"Hey" He closed the door behind him gently and you noticed something off immediately.

"How's things going?" He asked with soft tone stuffing his hands into his back pockets.

"Just the usual, it's the time of the nightmare PTO" You chuckled lightly.

"What's up?" You glanced at the clock on the wall noticing this was an off time for him to check in, 10pm on a Tuesday night.

He took a deep breath but keeping his gaze on the ground. You felt your stomach turn from the sudden change in atmosphere.

"I-I don't know how to say this." He stuttered.

Now you were real concerned, you sat up watching him. He was only a shadow of his usual self. The bearded man who would put a smile on your face when just being around his presence. He would check in on everyone to make sure there was no issues. He helped you become who you are today with everything he thought you when it came to managing a bustling restaurant.

"Marie, she's been diagnosed with ....cancer." His voice broke, you could tell he was holding back.

"What?" You said to yourself in disbelief. You saw her last week when she came in to check in. She looked fine, totally normal.

"But-" You stopped not wanting to say anything to upset him.

"Did you get a second opinion?" You asked after a moment, hearing about misdiagnoses can be a thing.

He nodded looking down at the ground. You could tell he was barely keeping it together. They've been together for decades and you knew this hit him to his core.

"It's stage 4" He whispered keeping his eyes on the floor.

You stared at him, not understanding the words coming out of his mouth. You've known them for years. You've grown as a manager here. You've been through the ups and downs, through the surreal covid time.

"I'm so sorry Vince-" You said sympathetically, getting up from the chair to try and comfort him.

He went on to tell you that they would have to shutdown the restaurant for the foreseeable future if not for good. They didn't have enough time nor money to keep the restaurant going and treat his wife for however long she had left. You started recommending things that might help them but it seemed that the decision was already made.

You watch him leave the office sorrowfully and in that instant felt completely lost. The roster that you were making, didn't matter. The new menus that were freshly printed on your desk didn't matter. You could hear Vince muffled voice from the kitchen. Most likely telling the rest of the staff the devastating news.

Two weeks later, you closed up the restaurant for the last time. After spending years there, you had no backup plan. It was completely unexpected.

The honking of a car down the street snapped you out of your trance.

"The thing is.." you paused flicking the ash off your cigarette.

"Vince shut up shop a couple of months ago" You blew smoke out of your mouth.

"What?" Carmy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

You nodded dropping the butt on the ground smooshing it with you boot.

"Marie got cancer, terminal" You stated remembering the last phone conversation you had with Vince.

He sounded weak on other end of the phone. You called to check in knowing they needed all the support right now. He told you that she was in a hospice, making her comfortable and waiting for the inevitable.

"Last time I spoke to him, he said she only had a month left at most" You scrunched up your lips, your feelings whelming up inside.

Carmy sat there. He didn't say anything. You didn't want to tell him after everything he's been through but when it came to Marie passing you didn't want to shock him.

"Shit" He whispered, his head dropped.

You brought your hand over and rubbed his back. You didn't want to deliver the bad news but keeping something like that from him wasn't right either.

You could feel tears pricking up in your eyes and wiped them away quickly. You had no right to cry right now. You wanted to be there for Carmy.

Both of you sat there in silence. You wondered what he was thinking and wanted to not make him feel worse than he probably already did.

"I remember when you first started." You smiled to yourself while the memory ran through your mind.

"You came in so focused on what Vince was telling you. You wouldn't talk to anyone. You get in, do your work, stay late and then go home." You chuckled lightly to yourself.

You remember watching him as he watch Vince guided him. He would hang onto every word Vince said, like his life depended on it. People would crack jokes here and there especially when it was a slow night but Carmy wouldn't even crack a smile. He wasn't there to fuck around.

"I remember that one dick that screamed at me in front of a 12 top after his food was delayed and Vince came out and gave him an earful, 'emeber that?" You reminisced

Carmy sat back up and nodded, half smiling.

"I just remember being in the walk in and you burst in crying." He commented glancing over at you.

"I didn't even notice you were there at first. I was just in shock from getting screamed at in front of everyone"

You remembered looking over and seeing him with a container of sauce, frozen in place and staring at you completely startled. He came over asking what happened and through the sobbing you explained. Carmy gave you some words of reassurance knowing the bastard that screamed at you was just a cruel prick. It was the first time you talked to each other and it was nice to know he wasn't a complete robot.

He remembered seeing you in such distress with your eyes red and swollen. After hearing about what happened, he wanted to go in front and tell the motherfucker to get out of the restaurant. But he knew Vince was handling it. He never spoke much to you, but knew that you were nothing but nice to him and that you didn't deserve to be treated that way. Nobody deserved that.

After that day, Carmy and you would share some words through the shift and then those words turn to conversations which eventually lead to both of you hanging out at work.

"Wanna go back in?" Carmy nodded towards the door.

You both return to normal temperatures where you dethaw from being outside way longer than you should have been.

You made your way back to the office still wearing your jackets feeling the stiffness in your hands from the cold. You leaned over to checked your phone for it to light up, 7:30pm.

"Today flew by" You stretched out feeling the effects of sitting at a desk majority of the day. The cold didn't help either.

"Oh, so you never answered my question" Carmy rubbed his hands together to get some friction heat going.

"Uh... " You thought for a moment and clicked into what he was on about.

After coming to the realization that you were going to be jobless, you sat with the idea of maybe staying that way for awhile. You haven't taken any time off for summer in years. You thought if you didn't do it now that you never have another chance.

Your phone screen light up beside you on the couch, with a number you didn't recognize. You paused the movie and picked it up and hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey, uhh.. it's Carmy" A smile immediately popped up on your face hearing the familiar voice on the other end.

It was a pleasant surprise and totally unexpected for you to hear from him. He explained the situation he was in and that he would really appreciate if you could stay for awhile to help him in any way. You thought to yourself about how it would be nice to visit an old friend. He explained he wouldn't be able to pay you right now but if he would figure something out. Money wasn't the issue. You had a nice little nest egg to fall back on for the unanticipated free summer you were going to have.

He asked if Vince would mind, giving you sometime off to help, even if it was for a couple of days. You avoided the topic and said that you could work something out. You were thankful that he didn't challenge you and accepted the answer.

"Oh staying yeah... well my flight is booked for the end of next week".

You saw a flash of disappoint in his face before he looked down at his hands. You didn't want to look too much into his reaction, but seeing him that way ping something in your chest for a split second.

"But.. if paperwork isn't sorted by then, I can always reschedule my flight" You offered with a smile.

"Yea, yeah of course. I don't wanna take you away from anythin' that you have going back home..." He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Carmy, I'm literally unemployed right now." You said bluntly glaring at him before breaking into a snicker.

"Anyway let's just wait til' the middle of the week and then I'll decide if I need more time." You explained, breaking into a yawn.

"Heard." Carmy nodded.

"Anyway, it's getting pretty late so I think it's time to close up" He stuffed his hands in this pockets, turning towards the swinging doors.

You started putting away the paperwork you were looking at, leaving the desk in a somewhat tidy state for the morning. Carmy did a round on the kitchen to double check everything was off before making his way back to the office.

It felt like nothing had changed between you two. After years of both you doing your own thing, when it came down to you both chilling, everything was the same. He watched you tidy up and could imagine this being the norm, you working here permanently. He instantly knew that you would slide right into this place. How easy it was for you to read people and get on with them. He also didn't want to have any expectation on you though.

It would be crazy to think just after 2 weeks you would even consider moving to Chicago for a job that wouldn't be paying you for God knows how long. He felt at ease when you were around him. Saying goodbye to that when you leave was going to be hard on him. But he didn't have time to lay on his feelings. There was a million things that still needed to get done in the restaurant. The restaurant that felt like it was going to crumble to the ground any second. He would be the one to witness it. He would be the one with the burden on his shoulders. Not Mikey.

Carmy pulled the door to check it was locked and stuffed the keys in his pocket. You both looked at each other giving a small smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow... Chef" You added taking a step back.

"See ya, Boss" Carmy developed an amused look turning down towards to street.

You rolled your eyes playfully and started walking further down the side walk crossing your arms, trying to keep your jacket as close to you as possible.

Carmy walked home feeling better than usual. Normally, he was always thinking about the next day and want needed to be done. What could make the restaurant more money. But, he caught himself not doing that, instead he was thinking about the evening he just spent with you.

His mind drifted back to the memories of him and you back in New York. Memories that he hasn't thought about it a long time. As much as he hated asking for help, he was glad he reached out to you. He was grateful that you were able to come out.

When he arrived home, he took off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and fell back onto the couch. He flicked through the channels not really paying attention to what he was watching. He felt his eyelids get heavy and within minutes he was asleep. It must have been the first time since moving back from New York that he fell asleep with such ease.

Chapter 3

Masterlist of other fics

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mushrubes · 9 months

Text

Houseparty

Masterlist | Resident Evil masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Leon Kennedy by @/Buugaa}

(i’m spending too much time on that someone help)

Pairing : bbf!Leon Kennedy x female reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Word count : 1.2k

Content: Swear words, brothers best friend, mutual pinning, slightly ooc <3

Have a great day !! <3

——————————–

"We're going out, your brother told me to let you know. Get ready, I'm not waiting on your slow ass." Leon grumbled, having barged into your room, not bothering to knock. He walked out just as quickly, making sure to slam the door behind him. You poked your head out, calling after him. "Leon! Where are we going?" You huffed, not really wanting to go out.

"not sure yet. Probably a house party. Get changed." He ordered, walking down the stairs. He was dressed nicely, with slacks that accentuated his muscular legs and butt, a form-fitting sweater shirt. He'd borrowed one of your brother's aftershaves, smelling nice. You admired him before turning back into your room to get changed. It was no secret Leon was attractive - almost every girl found him attractive. Hell, you might even admit it if it wasn't for his constant stuck-up and arrogant attitude he had towards you. You pulled out a dress from your wardrobe, putting it on with matching shoes and accessories with a tiny bit of light makeup.

You groaned as you tried for the third time to tie the dress, being unable to do it tight enough. Swallowing your pride, you peeked your head out, once again calling Leon's name. "Leon? Can you tie my dress for me?" you sighed in defeat. He rolled his eyes and walked back into your room, standing behind you. He put his arms around your waist, tugging on the fabric tight but carefully. His warm breath was against your neck, feeling him close. "There, it's fine now. C'mon, let's go."

"Thank you." You mumbled quietly, your cheeks tinted slightly and being the first to move, walking out and leaving him standing in the bedroom. His eyes didn't leave you once, taking in your figure from head to toe as you walked away, slowly following behind. "Let's go." he ordered, smirking as he opened the front door for you. You walked out, Leon following behind, shutting the front door and locking it. He caught up to you, opening the passenger door, watching as you got in. He shut the door, getting in on the driver's side and starting the car as you clicked your seatbelt in.

"You good?" He asked, looking at you and your dress, checking you out once again. Clearing your throat, you nodded, a small smile on your face as you breathed out a gentle "yeah". He nodded and pulled out, driving in silence. When you reached the house, it was full of people, everyone drinking as the music blasted. "we're here. I'll be off to find my friends, go make new ones. And hey, no drinking." he ordered as you got out, sending you one last glance as he walked off.

This was going to be fun

------

You had eventually found your brother's girlfriend, Jill. She'd introduced you to her friend group, now currently playing beer pong with them. You were good at the game, but it lead to you drinking more than you typically would, a little bit tipsy. Leon had also joined in, drinking more than he normally would, getting more flirty as a result. Every time it was your go, you could see him in the corner of your eye checking you out again, making you smirk.

You threw the ball, landing it in the drink making you giggle, Leon having to drink. "Drink up Kennedy." You teased, grinning at him. "Damn it, fine.." he chuckled, grabbing the cup and chugging it, setting the empty cup down. His eyes didn't leave you once, meeting yours as his expression makes you feel hot. A small smirk sat on his face, staring at you. "Don't miss now." You said playfully, winking at him as he got ready for his shot.

He tossed the ball, groaning as it missed, taking the cup and finishing it. The game continued, your team winning and the party continuing. Suddenly, you feel him behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. "Let's get out of here." He whispered into your ear, his voice thick. "But the party isn't over yet." you giggled, turning to face him. "I wanna go. I wanna take you back home with me. Now." he said, his breath on your neck, his voice thick and eyes fixed on yours.

You grinned softly at him, humming. "Let me get Chris to drive us home, you've been drinking." you reminded, earning a nod from him. He took his hands off you, looking one last time before going to find Chris to tell him it was time to go, his eyes meeting yours once again. You all get in the car, Chris and Jill sitting in the front while you sit in the back with Leon. You rested your head on his shoulder, heartbeat speeding up. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him.

Maybe something would happen tonight

------

The pair of you ended up drinking a bit more once you got back, sitting and chatting in the living room. He was leaning back in the armchair, in a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair a slight mess. His eyes were fixed, watching you as he drank from the bottle.

"I should get ready for bed," *smiling softly at him, getting up and stretching. Walking up the stairs, a gentle smile on your face as you feel his gaze follow you until you get into your room. You take your dress off, setting it aside as you put your PJs on when the door quietly opens.

"I know it's you, Leon." giggling, turning to face him. He's in a pair of pyjama pants with no shirt and stood in the doorway. "I didn't want to sneak." He smiled, stepping into the room, shutting the door behind him and walking over. "What's going on with you tonight?" You teased, Leon stepping closer. "You tell me." he smirked, the alcohol giving him more confidence.

Your hand makes its way to his arm, moving closer. "You normally hate my guts, but tonight you're being all clingy." you smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh shut up. Don't act like you don't like this." Leon rolled his eyes, his arms around your hips, pulling you close to him, faces now inches apart. "Leon?" you called softly, running a hand through his hair. "Mmh?" he asked, leaning into your touch.

You bit your lip, deciding there was nothing left to lose. "Stay the night?" you asked quietly, looking up at him hopefully. He closed his eyes for a moment, silently debating, before looking at you. One hand is resting on your hip, the other on your arm. His eyes are deep, and his voice is quiet. "Yeah. I will." he responds, holding you closer. "Hold me while we sleep?" You suggest, seeing his face light up.

"Absolutely. I'll hold you tight." his smile getting bigger, wrapping his arms around your waist while yours reached around his neck. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his, his hands on your back as he carefully pulled you down to him, laying in each other's arms.

This night couldn't have been any better.

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spaghettiddy · 2 years

Text

For tonight and everything

♡ Eddie Munson x reader ♡

Summary: Eddie needs your help to wash his precious hair after a tumultuos night out.

C/W: fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie feels a little insecure and needs reassurance, alcohl, tipsiness, gn!reader.

A/N: I wasn’t expecting this to be sad but I did listen to I bet on losing dogs by Mitski on repeat writing it. Enjoy :)

Eddie hasn't drunk to the point of needing to be physically supported, but he does need supervision, so you follow him from a few steps behind as he shuffles down the suburban streets after leaving Steve's house. You watch with a tired smile as he makes grabby hands to a cat and proceeds to flip it off beacuse, understandably, it ran away from him.

Robin really shouldn't have tried to climb on top of that table while holding her beer. Clumsy as she is, she lost her balance when Blondie came on and spilled half of the can on Eddie. Who of course was an accomplice, cheering her on and offering his head as a support for Robin's climb.

Now half of his curls are smushed and dripping beer and at least two of the layers of his signature metal attire are damp and smell of booze.

As soon as the trailer door closes behind you Eddie goes for his bed, planning to fall asleep as soon as his head misses the pillow and hits anything soft. But you stop him before he can get to his room grabbing him by the shoulders and redirecting him to the bathroom.

"No no no. You have to at least wash your hair and get into something more comfortable and less wet before we get in bed," you explain, once again following him from behind with your hands still on his shoulders.

He groans reluctant and turns around. You can really see the tipsiness in his big eyes turning into tiredness.

"Ok. But you do it," he says weakly poking your chest with his index.

"What? Wash your hair?" His hair is a sacred thing. He has his routine and products and permission is needed to touch them so this is a surprise to you.

"Yeah. 'm too tired." He was already kicking off his shoes and taking off his shirt.

"Oh... okay. But it's going to be just shampoo and conditioner. You can do your usual stuff in the morning."

He kneels next to the green bathtub and adjust himself so that his his dark hair falls inside of it, it's so lo g the tips brush the bottom. He answers giving a thumbs up and waits for you to turn the water on.

You grab the shower head and adjust the water temperature then start washing Eddie's hair.

The curls get heavier like his eyelids and looser like his shoulders. Despite the uncomfortable position, thanks to your sweet touches sleepiness is really getting to him.

You can hear his little moans and grunts over the water, even a little "Yes, right there" as you massage the shampoo onto his scalp. White suds cover his head and the sweet smell of green apple fills the air of the small bathroom of the same color.

By the time your spreading the conditioner on his lengths you think he has fallen asleep if it wasn't for the warm hand rubbing up and down your leg.

Once you're done Eddie doesn't even open his eyes while you wrap a towel around his head, still lost in the blissful state he fell in with you taking care of him. Mutual touches and familiar scents grounding him at the end of an eventful night.

When he finally opens them he sees your tired expression and suddenly feels guilty. You're back and legs must be sore from bending over him and you can't hold back a yawn as you stand to tidy up.

Mixed feelings of adoration and guilt wash over him. He reaches for your leg and nudges you to move closer to him, still sat on the cold tiles. When you're close enough he rests his forehead on your thigh.

"That tired huh?" you ask. "Come on Eddie, get up. You're getting my pants wet"

"I'm sorry," he mutters in your leg.

"It's nothing just-'

When he finally looks up at you through his eyelashes his expression worries you.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I'm sorry for your pants and for tonight and everything -his tone gets louder and more frustrated - I'm sorry for alway stinking up the room and your clothes with my cigarettes, for the loud music, the stupid hobbies. Im sorry for people looking at you weird when we hold hands and I'm sorry you have to be here in this stupid bathroom with an idiot covered in beer and-and..."

"Oh no no Eddie, don't say that. Where is all this sadness coming from?" You're the one sounding distressed now.

He cranes his head up, just then realizing how tight he was olding onto you. An unconscious attempt to keeping you close or bracw himself during the unexpected ramble. He's already regretting what he said, already sorry again.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." You lower yourself to be next to him and take his face in your hands. He feels so solid under your touch: light skin, familiar little scars, the opposite of how he's feeling.

His eyes don't lose yours for a second from the moment they open, anxiously waiting as if you could have something horrible to tell him in response.

"Eddie," you begin in a soft voice, "you know you have nothing to be sorry for." You take a deep breath.

"It's nothing. My pants, the music, the smoke, the beer, nothing. And Eddie, those people looking. I don't care, I can't or I would do half the things I really want to do. I want to hold your hand. I want to wash your hair because you had a bit too much fun with our friends - a chuckle escapes you as you recall the image of everyone laughing and having a deserved night of fun and you can feel some of the tension leaving him, probably thinking of the same thing - and I want to be here."

"You do?"

"Yes. Here. In this stupid bathroom."

"But why?" He scoffs and you have to shake his sarcastic smile by holding his cheeks with more conviction.

"Because you're here Eddie"

He doesn't even really know what to say. He feels like even "I love you" is nothing compared to what you're trying to tell him. That you just want to be where he his, despite the smoke, the hobbies, despite the beer, stupid people. Despite everything, you want to be on the cold bathroom floor with his forehead pressed against yours and his hair dripping on you, with water this time.

So he doesn't say anything for once. He takes your hands in his and smiles, no sarcasm, no smugness.

Seeing him feeling better you kiss him on the cheek where your hand was and get up.

You reach your hands out to him to help him up and once he's up he pulls you in a tight hug and showers you in the warmest and softest kisses. Eddie’s best version of a “thank you”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson headcanons #fluff #flufftober #eddie munson hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

I've Got You

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your flatmate have perfected the art of wingmanship for one another. It's a great system that seems to work every single time, until you're left unsatisfied.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, eventual smut

Author’s note: baby's first smutty series - no smut in part one yet, but there's four more coming and i'm eXCITED (rewritten on 13 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Hey, I’ve got the flat tonight,” Joe leant his full upper body onto and over the bar, making sure you could hear him over the music, interrupting your focus on whoever was kissing your neck.

I’m busy fuck off, was your first thought, and you frowned in annoyance. You didn’t need Joe so close, shouting so close to your ear.

You turned your head slightly to meet your friend’s eyes and saw the pretty girl behind him that you’d introduced him to about an hour earlier. You were sat on a barstool on the short side of the bar, with a man who you’d smiled at about fifteen minutes ago latched onto you.

That’s how it worked.

You smile at a guy, get him to order you a drink, then reward him by allowing him to suck love bites into your neck.

Easy maths.

Joe just needed confirming you weren’t going to be taking this random dude back to your flat.

He didn’t want you walking in on him with his hook-up later.

Joe bit into his bottom lip as he smiled at you, amused by how cross you seemed, and you waved him off with a frown. Couldn’t Joe see you were too busy focusing on the lips that were sucking bruises into the area between the back of your ear and your hair? Too busy focusing on the hand that was inching up your inner thigh below the bar?

Joe’s grin grew at your dismissal of him.

Good.

He had the flat tonight.

“Have fun you two,” he slapped the bar with a flat hand and made your hook-up break free from you to look at him.

“She’d love another gin and tonic,” Joe said to him as he pointed at your empty glass.

With two people glaring at him now, Joe smiled before holding his hand up in a wave and walking out, dragging the pretty girl out behind him.

You held up your middle finger at your flatmate until he was out the door.

It had been a long, exhausting week, and when you’d gotten home from work that day, there’d been loud music playing. You’d heard the shower going, and upon slamming the door shut, Joe had shouted “Hey! We’re going out!” at you from the bathroom.

“What did we say about bathroom activities and locking the door?” you fanned through some closed envelopes you’d taken from your mailbox as you stood in front of the open bathroom door.

“I’m not on the toilet,” Joe quipped as he popped his head around the shower curtain, the shampoo in his curls leaving suds on the plastic. He looked you up and down, the wear and tear of the day clearly visible on you.

“Have a beer, then start getting ready.”

You sighed deeply, dragged it out until your lungs were completely empty. You could feel how tired you were in your bones. In the balls of your feet. In the pressure you felt throbbing inside of your skull.

“I’ve got a pint of ice cream that’s been telepathically sending me messages all day,” you were absolutely ready to get into your pyjamas and fall asleep curled up on the sofa watching bad TV.

“No!” Joe frowned, pouted a little.

“No ice cream. We’re going out! Tonight!” Joe revealed a wet arm from behind he curtain that he used to tensely point down at the floor.

“It’s caramel core, Joe...” you gave him your best tilted puppy dog face.

Joe paused a second to scan you.

You looked like you needed ice cream, if he was being honest. Then, he quickly disappeared behind the shower curtain again.

“Okay, fine. Have a little ice cream, but then after, start getting ready!”

You huffed a laugh as you closed the bathroom door and rolled your eyes at your flatmate. You hovered there a second, gave yourself time to consider the options here before concluding that you didn’t really know who you were trying to fool.

You hadn’t had sex– wait, no. You hadn’t had good sex in a while, so going out and chancing getting some didn’t sound like the worst idea.

You made sure to get a couple of good spoonfuls of caramel core ice cream into your system before cracking open a drink and getting ready for a night out.

About an hour later you were stood in the hallway, slung your coat back on, and let your flatmate guide you out of your flat into the night.

On your way to get drunk.

It was weird how this household worked, but this is what you and Joe did. It was weirder that you called it a household, it being just the two of you, but, it was whatever.

It was busy at the bar you ended up at. There was a good crowd out, and you were quick to get an order in.

Sitting down on barstools and facing out to scan the dance floor, you sipped your drinks as you both let your eyes make snap judgements of strangers. You were always looking for the golden triangle in a man: strong arms, kind face, and tall. Taller than you, at least. How quickly they could then chat you into bed would completely depend on how drunk and giggly they’d leave you.

“I’m so sorry,” Joe said, and you turned to see him give you an empathetic look.

“I’m afraid everyone here’s uglier than me, so,” he sighed, then said, “I guess I'll have to do. If you want, we could just call it a night right now?” and Joe pretended to want to get up to leave.

You grinned, plastic straw slotted in between your teeth, and you gave him a shove.

“Idiot.”

It hadn’t taken long for Joe to nod his head towards a girl he’d spotted. You’d followed his eyes and when you saw her, you dropped your face and gave him a deadpan stare.

“Of course,”

Men were all the fucking same, weren’t they? It was always the impossibly slim, incredibly gorgeous girl. The girl that was pretty in a way you couldn't really ignore. The type of girl you knew also looked stunning three seconds after waking up, hungover or not.

You were not that type of girl.

“What?” Joe asked defensively, but you detected his smile. Stupid little smirk that tried to hide just under the surface, but couldn’t. Never could.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you held both your hands up as claws in front of his face in faux frustration, and you laughed.

When you saw that the girl Joe’d gestured towards was on her way to the toilets, you were quick to get up to follow her.

“Get me another gin and tonic, and order some shots, I’ll have her here in a minute,” you were nothing if not a good wingman.

“I’ve got you.”

Joe smacked your ass as a thank you, making you throw him a scolding look over your shoulder. And just like Joe, you couldn’t hide your smile either.

You’d been right.

Befriending her had been easy; you gave her lots of compliments and laced them with jealousy so she felt the need to compliment you back.

Boom.

Instant best friends for life, because that was how that worked with drunk girls.

Then you asked her if she’d already done shots that night and dragged her over to Joe without waiting for an answer. The vague idea of a fun time was enough to have her follow you blindly.

Then you’d introduced her to Joe, gave your best casual sales pitch before taking your gin and tonic and slipping away from them, leaving Joe to flirt his own way into her pants.

It worked.

It worked every single time.

Early the next morning you felt worse walking up the stairs to your flat than you’d done the night before, when you’d gotten back from work.

Bones more achy, head more throbby.

You were going to spend the whole weekend in bed and couldn’t fucking wait to get inside.

Just as you were about to fetch your keys to open the door, you heard it unlock and were greeted by the girl from the bar from the night before.

“Oh, hi,” she jumped slightly when she saw you, and then awkwardly smiled. You weren’t sure if she even remembered you.

“Hi,” you said back, and for a moment, she just stood in your doorway and looked at you expectantly.

“Sorry, I live here, Joe’s my flatmate,” you said, pushing the door open beside her, and she immediately stepped aside for you, to let you in.

“Sorry! I’m just, I’m on my way out,” she smiled apologetically, sort of embarrassed, and looked just as disheveled as you did.

You would’ve mentally made fun of the fact that she was in fact not one of those girls that looked effortlessly amazing in the morning, but you weren’t one to talk. You were both in outfits from last night, both had hair all out of place and both had thick mascara smudged underneath your lashes.

You smiled politely as you stepped around each other, her onto the doormat in the communal hallway, you in your own flat.

“Hey, um,” she stopped you just as you were about to shut the door.

“Could you… could you give me his number? I just realized he never gave it to me...”

For a second you just looked at her, admiring the balls she had to outwardly ask you for Joe’s phone number. Just for that alone, you really wanted her to just have it. But the fact that she didn’t already have it meant that Joe probably didn’t want her to have it in the first place, so you couldn’t.

“You know what? Give me yours. I’ll pass it on.”

A classic line that you had used many times before. Girls were always eager to write their name and number on a random scrap piece of paper you’d rip from an old envelope to give to Joe. Which you then never did.

After closing the door behind you, you took heavy, tired steps into Joe’s bedroom and let yourself fall onto his bed face first, still in your coat and shoes, on the spot where seconds ago someone else had woken up. The creaking of the mattress made enough noise for Joe to jolt awake, and he groaned a little at the movement of his bed.

“I’m getting the flat for at least the next two months,” you spoke into the pillow when you saw Joe carefully open a squinty eye to check if it was you beside him. There was a second of relief at the fact that it was just you, but then your words registered, and it was replaced with a small, sleepy smile.

“What was it this time?” Joe grunted as he rolled over onto his back.

“I had to share the bed with a dog,” you moved in as Joe’s arm found its way around your back, cuddling you into him for some early-morning comfort.

Joe couldn’t help but chuckle softly, and you felt it in his chest below your cheekbone.

“Was it at least a cute one? Like a border collie?”

“Oh, it was adorable, but there’s something I can’t quite explain about making eye contact with a dog when someone’s going down on you,” you tilted your head upwards to catch Joe’s reaction.

“Oh no, the dog was there during–”

“The whole time.” You deadpanned.

Joe groaned for you in sympathy, then yawned. “Yea, alright, that grants you the flat for a bit.”

The two of you had been flatmates for long enough to have come up with rules surrounding hooking up. You’d walked in on Joe with a girl on the sofa once, and you’d been absolutely livid with him for it. It was bad enough having to hear Joe have sex through a wall from your adjoined bedrooms, but seeing it with your own eyes in a shared space lifted the issue to a whole new level. Joe had been embarrassed in the moment, but had been able to laugh it off fast. Afterwards he'd continuously made fun of your reaction at seeing him plow his dick into someone from behind, a girl that you’d made eye-contact with when you stepped inside after you’d unassumingly gotten back from a food shop.

Joe hadn't been able to laugh it off quite as fast when the shoe had been on the other foot, and he’d walked in on you getting eaten out perched up on the kitchen counter.

It was when and why you’d established the rule of letting the other person know that you had someone over, just so the other person could avoid witnessing anything they didn't want to see. Or hear.

Slowly, it had evolved into what it was now: you’d tell each other to get out and fuck off for a bit because you needed the flat. Or, like last night, whoever was first to claim it, usually got it.

A silence fell where you both stared at the ceiling for a bit. You knew you desperately needed a shower, but Joe’s bed was comfortable, even if you were still in your heels.

“At least someone went down on you, though,” Joe said, trying to make you feel better by throwing some of his own misery your way.

“Oh no, she didn’t suck you off?” you were genuinely surprised. You thought she had looked like a girl who would have. Not that you could put into words what gave you that impression. She just... she just did.

“Said it wasn’t her thing,” he grunted, somewhat annoyed, but clearly joking.

Maybe that was the reason why she didn’t end up with Joe’s phone number, you thought.

“Poor Joey,” you pouted sarcastically through a smile and patted him on his chest softly. “Do you want me to quickly do it?” you hadn’t even finished your sentence before you’d started laughing.

“All right,” Joe groaned and shoved your face away from him with his palm covering most of it, rolling you off of him, which only made you laugh louder.

When your giggles died out, you sat up. Time for a shower, you thought, and you moved to the edge of the bed to take your shoes off.

“If it’s any consolation, I might as well not have had any head. He wasn’t any good.”

Your heels dropped onto Joe’s bedroom floor with loud thuds.

Joe huffed a laugh, and you looked over your shoulder to look him in the eye.

He looked tired still. Sleepy.

“Are they ever?” Joe asked, and then, you both laughed.

-----

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