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ellemj · 4 months

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Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

“I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

“That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night. Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

“The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

“I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

“Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

“Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

“Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

“Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.” The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

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thefandomdirtymind · 7 months

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Hello! I saw your post you're open for a request and I was wondering if I could I have OPLA Sanji?

About Sanji fall in love towards reader but reader was hesitate and unsure if Sanji is being sincere it's like she's having trust issues since Sanji is considered a ladies' man or flirty and was afraid he'll broke her heart?

A/N IMPORTANT: Hey, thank you for your request Anon ! I had to confess that it was kind of a hard one for me because well...trust issu hit close from home and I just start to write that angst even if it was not my specialty, but I really like the result and I hope you will too !

Trust Issues

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

Love wasn’t your cup of tea. Sure, the idea of a partner supporting and adoring you like you deserve was cute. But, in your opinion, you have already done enough. After all, your last relationship has resulted as becoming a pirate and being abandoned by your lover to save his ass. And, If the humiliation hadn’t been enough, not long after your escape for the marines, you had seen him parading with his new lady wrapped around his arm. Like if you hadn’t existed at all.

So, nobody could blame you if you had some trust issues and an aversion for ladie’s man.

It’s why you knew the minute you saw his smile what Vinsmoke Sanji was : A pretty flirt.

If it was only you, you had refused his presence on the ship, but, like Luffy had said, the Going Merry needed a cook and the man was a hell of a fighter. As the morning came, you couldn’t also deny the fact that he looked incredibly good in his suit, his bag on his shoulder, ready to come aboard. Smiling at the instant he spotted you.

“ Hello Madam, I'm glad we met again. Can I say that you seem even more beautiful in this sunlight” He offered, from the dock, as you were sitting on the main deck rail adjusting a rope.

“ You may, but it doesn't mean I will accept the compliment. Luffy is on the upper deck if you search him” You coldly replied, trying to shut down your traitor heart. You will not fall for another pretty face, never.

“ I didn’t expect much Madam, thank you for the information “ Sanji replied, his mood in nothing affected by your coldness. Sure, he had hoped for a warmer welcome, but after serving you the night before and found himself unable to turn his gaze away from your beauty. He was satisfied with just being part of the same crew as you, the rest would come later he had assumed.

It took, in fact, way longer than he first thought. For the entire few weeks he had been on board, you hadn’t looked or talked to him except to thank him for the food or urgent matters.

Many times, the crew had tried to talk to you, asking you to be more nice with Sanji. But, even if you could feel his charm often softened your shield, your stubbornness was even stronger.

It wasn’t easy for Sanji either. He knew you clearly disliked him without knowing why. When, on his part, the more he was admiring you, watching you laugh with the others, hearing your brilliant plan, watching you gracefully climb the cordage and being as stubborn as him. Make him love you even more. Everyday, he was trying to charm you, offering you compliments, taking an interest in what you were doing or simply making you the best food he could. But, nothing worked, you answered him quickly and as coldly as always.

It'll take another two months and a storm before Sanji has enough.

The rain was falling for hours,helped by a wind so strong that you had to close one of the sails to avoid drifting away. Each two hours or so, the members of the crew were making a rotation, trying as much as possible to not fatigue themself too much and end up falling into the water.

You were the only one still standing, drenched by the cold rain, your muscles sore by the force necessary to keep the helm stable. Multiple times Nami and Usopp had tried to push you to take a rest or at least eat something warm, but each time you refused resolutely, you would pass that storm and rest after.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji was finishing his soup, preparing three bowls for the crew member who will come downstairs to take their rest. As he prepared himself for going upstairs, doing his part, the blond chef saw Nami and Usopp going down the stairs, alone. You aren’t with them, again.

“ Where Y/N ” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“ She refuses to budge of the helm. we tried to talk to her but it’s like talking to a rock” Nami replied, wrapping herself in a big towel.

“ I’ll come back, I will bring her here “ Sanji only replied, his happy mood now sour. It wasn’t rare in the time who’s he was running the restaurant with Zeff that he lost his temper. He had lost it already a time or two during battle, but against another member of the crew,it was a first.

Making his way to the helm, he looked at you, already knowing it will not be easy. But, to be sure you’re in security, he was ready to fight you if he had to.

“ Y/N, your time has long passed, I will replace you. I prepared a dry towel and warm soup in the kitchen. Go take some rest “ He first tried.

“ I’m not tired or hungry “ You simply replied with your gaze focused on the horizon.

“ Then I’m afraid I have to excuse myself Darling “ Profiting from an adjustment of your position, he then proceeds to lift you on his shoulder, easily dodging all your attacks, as he was getting you down in the ship to dry both of you.

“ How dare you ! “ You scream, shaking of rage and cold. As he sits you on one of the kitchen stools and throws a dry towel at you. “ I was perfectly fine !”

“ You were on a trip to catch death ! “Sanji replied sharply, his gaze dark and his wet form in a stiff posture with anger “ I don’t know what I exactly did to make you dislike me like that, but I can care for you if you do some stupid things like that ! “

“ Then just don’t care about me and go flirt somewhere else !!” You angrily answered.

Taken aback, Sanji tilted his head, frowning his eyebrow, clearly confused.

“ Wait…what…You dislike me…because I flirted with you ?“ He slowly asked, trying to understand your point.

“ I just don’t understand why you haven't given up yet ! I had already done with the damn flirty kind, go charm your other ladies and leave me alone ! “

" My other…” Sanji starts disbelief. “ I don’t give up because I care for you…stubborn woman! " Sanji tried to say. Never had he thought that it was his manner that you hated so much. " But if my affection isn't required, fine, eat and rest, that's all I ask " He sighs ,disappearing upstairs.

A long and heavy silence fell in the kitchen after he left, leaving you with a curiously heavy heart and some concerned gaze of Nami and Usopp eating their soup. After a while, you sigh, defeated and take yourself a bowl. As always, the dish was perfectly balanced and delicious.

" You know y/n...I know your story, I understand, I do. But…Sanji didn't flirt with any woman aside from you for months…I think he genuinely likes you, " Nami softly spoke. "Of course I'm not you and you have all the right to act like you do, but it’s not Sanji's fault. He’s not him… and I think the day he will stop caring for you, you will realize it’s will be maybe too late”.

“ Maybe “ You admit, finishing your food before leave it into the sink and heading to the door” I will sleep a little, wake me up when it will be our turn again please “

But she never woke you up and when you opened your eyes, the sun was shining again on another day.

Sanji wasn’t the kind of man who'd give up easily, neither on his dream nor on the people he loved. But, even with his flirty tendency, respecting women and their wishes was a priority. It’s why, even if it cost him and that your word had wounded him, on that sunny day, he started to restrict at the minimum his attention to you.

And you noticed it immediately. His gaze on you, usually full of affection, was now more distant, he didn’t ask you if you had slept well, nor if you would like something in particular for breakfast, he simply put an omelet in front of you, smiled politely and returned to his occupation. Yes, for Sanji it was odd, but, as a ladie’s man you give him a week before going back to his old habit.

Luckily for you, life decided to give both of you a hand.

Your estimation could never be more wrong. After two weeks of polite but cold Sanji, you were almost wishing you never had that fight. Your traitor heart was missed his radiant smile toward you, his compliments for every little detail of your person or the way he tried to know every one of your favorite things. But you had broken it and you were now unsure how to repair it. Excuse could probably do the charm, but your stubbornness was always blocking you, estimating that protecting your heart wasn't shameful.

The Going Merry was anchored alongside an island, doing his needed resupply. As the last barrel had been brought on board, you followed the idea of Zoro and decided to join your companions for a drink at the little bar on the beach.

But, as you put your foot in the small place, you froze, your mind resuming to a static white noise. Your ex, already another lady at his arm, was installed with his crew at the largest table of the little tavern.

“ Hey Y/N come here, that table is free ! “ Luffy exclaimed, not noticing your stiffness.

“ Y/N is that you ! Damn girl, I haven't seen you since you were surrounded by Marines ! I own you for this one, how did you escape ?! “ The despicable man shouted, clearly more happy to see you, than you were to see him. “ Darla, that girl was... my most loyal crew member. “He explained to the girl at his side “Look at you, have you always been that pretty ? “

The compliment was the last straw that snapped you out of your shock. How could he talk to you so casually after all you had endured because of him. Doesn’t he have an ounce of regret or shame ?!

“ I escaped on my own after you had cowardly abandoned me ! “ You replied, as Sanji placed himself behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder in support.

“ Y/N, that man clearly doesn’t deserve your time, come, the drink will arrive soon” He tried, giving a hard look at the pathetique Captain who was now coming a you, his hand scratching his hair, gauging if Sanji was a menace for his future plan with you or not.

“ Not deserving of his time, I had already two years of her time mate, go sip your beer and let us discuss. Y/N and I have many things to talk about. I haven’t abandoned her, I knew she could escape, she’s a smart cat. Aren't you Sweet pea”

“ I have nothing to say to you, thank you Sanji but I’m not in the mood. Being in the same room as him would suck all the joy I have. I will be on the ship. “ You simply replied, making your exit before tears ran down your cheeks.

Sat on the upper deck, watching the night sky, the fresh wind drying your last tears, you saw Sanji came back onboard. Without a word, he simply sat beside you and offered you the bottle he was keeping in his hand.

“ Zoro sent his regards and I’m here to tell you that I’m sorry. I had tried to respect your wish, but I couldn’t stop myself tonight. I can’t not care for you and that man was...he shouldn’t ever treat a lady as you like that. Maybe now he had learn “

“ Sanji, what did you do? “ You asked, strangely touched that he had actually take your defense even after you had left.

“ I kicked his pathetic and disgraceful ass. I couldn’t tolerate the way he was looking at you, talking to you...But I understand now how my behavior led you to dislike me when I arrived, But I assure you that…”

“ I know, “ You said your heart, still fragile, beating faster.” You aren’t him and I should have waited to know you. I was scared, I didn’t want to like you because I was afraid to repeat the same story. But even if I tried, I realize when you had stop to caring for me that I miss it, I missed you…a lot“

Suddenly unusually shy, his cheeks a slightly shade of faded pink in the dark, Sanji avoided your gaze, a joyful smile spreading on his lips.

“ I suggest that we start over. We can't forget all those months but we can restart our relationship.I can’t wait to truly know you Y/N” He tell, finally planting in gaze in yours, that lost spackles in his eyes, the one you though forever vanish, back even brighter that ever.

“ I can’t wait too, Sanji “ You softly smile.

___

Your first kiss with Sanji happened a little shorter than a month later. At exactly the same spot.

Since that night, you have made a habit of watching the sky together, sharing stories, passions and thoughts. Even if the blond cook, not without surprise, seems to find the constellation less appealing than your sweet view at his side. But, you slowly adapted yourself to his flirting and even often replied, to his joy.

It was in one of those moments, as you turned your head to point to him a group of stars that Sanji captured your lips, answering your heart's deepest desire from months and even probably since the tall man had put a foot on the deck.

Somewhere on the lower level of the ship, you hear the playful screams and wolf whistles of your friends. But, as he captured your lips for another kiss you couldn't care less. You had an amazing group of friends, the sea was peaceful and with the help of Sanji, your heart finally started to heal.

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #Request #Sanji Request

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heizlut · 8 months

Text

Study Session

alhaitham drabble

cw: exhibitionism. that’s really it

tags: afab fem reader. dom alhaitham. no use of y/n. kaveh is mentioned briefly. fingering (f!receiving).

(part 2 here)

📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹

Cooped up in a more secluded section of the House of Daena, Alhaitham has one of his muscular arms wrapped around your waist as you sit in his lap, keeping your legs spread apart with his own as you struggle to focus on the textbook in front of you. Two of his thick fingers thrust in and out of your sopping cunt while his free hand grasps your throat just tight enough to put on a little pressure. You stop reading, too focused on the growing need to cum when he rips his fingers from your pussy. You let out a small whine, feeling empty and having your impending orgasm ripped away from you. His grasp on your throat tightens and he speaks low and harsh in your ear, “Did I tell you to stop reading?” A harsh slap to your puffy clit has you biting your lip to hold in your moan. “Keep going, princess or else you wont be cumming at all”, he whispers.

You nod your head and keep reading, trying to focus on the words in front of you. “Good girl…”, Alhaitham coos and pressed his fingers back into your drippy cunt. His actions cause your words to slur into a soft moan, making him smirk and let out a satisfied hum as he continues to thrust his fingers inside of you, “Keep quiet now, princess. You wouldn’t want to catch anyone’s attention now would you?” You subconsciously clench around his fingers at his words making him chuckle softly, “Oh? From the way you’re clenching around my fingers, it almost seems like you would enjoy the idea of being caught. Maybe my little girlfriend really is a whore after all..” You shake you head, pouting slightly, “N-no, ‘m not a whore.” Alhaitham rolls his eyes and curls his fingers up to hit your g-spot causing you to let out a rather lewd moan. He releases your throat to quickly cover your mouth with his large hand, “Only whores moan like that in public. Now keep your mouth shut.” You nod your head slightly and he removes his hand from your mouth and unbuttons the top of your shirt so he can slip his hand in. He begins to toy with your nipples, twisting and pinching them as he continues to finger you harshly.

If anyone were to pass by, surely they would hear the lewd sounds of your squelching cunt. “H-haitham.. gonna cum..”, you whimper softly, rocking your hips against his hand. Alhaitham leans his head down, licking and biting at that sensitive spot on your neck and growls, “Cum for me.” That’s all the confirmation you needed as the knot inside you finally breaks and you cum all over his fingers, your juices dripping onto the floor. Not even a moment later, Kaveh makes his way over to where you both were, “Alhaitham! There you are! Have you seen my…” The words die in his throat, eyes widening at the sight before him and he blushes furiously, clearing his throat and quickly averting his eyes, “Ah.. um.. nevermind” He turns on his heels and quickly leaves the two of you behind.

You and Alhaitham sit there in silence for a moment before breaking out in soft laughter, “At least it was just Kaveh. That could’ve been so much worse if it had been anyone else”, you say through giggles. “Come on, I think we’ve spent enough time here already. Let’s go home”, Alhaitham says with a small smirk on his face.

Poor Kaveh certainly could not get the lewd sight of you and Alhaitham out of his head that night…

📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹ 📚₊˚⊹

a/n: this ain’t much but it’s honest work. i may or may not write a part 2 for this…

#alhaitham smut #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin alhaitham

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selfinsertmadness · 1 month

Note

i have a really cool prompt

hope you like my idea,

could you perhaps write a story about the current logan situation with loganxy/n ??

i love your blog soooo muchhhh

Logie and the Australian car incident

pairing: AstonMartin!y/n x Logan Sargeant (can be read platonically or romantically)

author's note: I haven't written any fanfic stuff in literal years (middle school me is quacking) but I tried my best with that one. Looking forward to any suggestions or critiques you may have :) (insert obligatory English is not my native language here) (please send promts!!!!)

The day starts off as any other day on a busy race weekend would and you are busy running around the Aston Martin garage making sure everything is in order before you return to your place at the back of the garage. You let your gaze sweep over the garage one last time before getting out your work phone and texting your boss, Lawrence, that everything is in order. The cars seem good, the mechanics had no complaints and Lance and Fernando were reasonably happy with everything. A satisfied smile washes over your face, your job was busy but reasonably easy, as the team caretaker your sole mission was to make sure the team was happy, the drivers taken care of, and the PR supervisors were not losing their minds running after their drivers while also texting Lawrence even the most minute details about his son and the other driver.

It seems quite redundant to you, but Lawrence Stroll pays well and who are you to turn down a job as a glorified team nanny.

You take a seat at the back and watch the first practice session absentmindedly, letting your gaze wander down to your phone occasionally, and scrolling through Twitter, scoffing at all the hate towards the current grid. It never ceases to amaze you how people can be so hateful, but then again, some people are just unhappy about their own lives. Looking up at the screen you watch a Williams car hit the wall on the right before sliding across the track and grinding its way to a stop on the left barrier. You gasp as you jump up, the rest of the garage wincing in sympathy as the car finally stops. You quickly turn to a mechanic nearby. “Who was that?”, you ask a little panicked as you watch the red flag fly and a driver in a Williams race suit climb out of the cockpit. “Albon, I think”, the mechanic replies helpfully as you try and suppress a relieved sigh. You still feel sorry for Alex but simultaneously thanking your lucky stars that Logan was not the one in an accident this time.

When Logan first got signed by Williams you both were ecstatic, you had met years ago when your parents had taken you on a vacation to Florida where you met Logan and you’ve kept in touch ever since. You had already been working for Aston Martin when Logan started in F1 and the fact that you could spend a lot more time together now served as further motivation to both of you to give it your best. You quickly shoot him a text, knowing he won’t be responding until later, before sending your boss a quick update and making sure the crash had not affected your team.

You honestly had forgotten you texted Logan in the first place as you watch the cars head out for the second practice session, Alex staying back in the pits, watching his teammate drive. You smile as you send Logan some memes you had found on twitter, knowing he would have a laugh once he got back to his room after the strenuous practice sessions of the day. Aston Martin, for once, had no major issues you had attend to and you could lean back and relax, as much as one in a Formula 1 garage can relax, in your seat while harassing the Aston Martin Instagram Admin with Memes you think they should be posting asap.

As the second practice session ends you help the team pack up and prepare for the next day as the drivers attend to their media duties and you stretch in relief as the first day of the Australian Grand Prix comes to an end. After having everything sorted you get out your work phone and sign off for the day before taking out your personal phone and responding to some texts before checking your chat with Logan, seeing that he had read your messages but not responded. ‘You ok?’, you send him before shrugging off any worry you might have. Surely, he was just busy, after all, he was the only Williams driver that would be starting on Sunday. You really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, the weight of the entire team and all the fans’ expectations resting on your shoulders. You might have a lot of responsibility but at least you were free of the expectations fans place on the drivers, mechanics and team principals.

You quickly slip into the shower of your private hotel room, a perk you were eternally grateful for, and put on some pajamas before order room service. You had earned it after all and looking after your figure was thankfully not a concern you had. ‘Ignoring your bestie? That’s not how I know you Loggie!’ you text Logan as you open the door for the food you had ordered and sit down before digging into the pepperoni pizza you had been craving for a week.

You startle as you hear a knock from your hotel room door. You shoot a quick glance at your phone, 11pm. You quietly approach the door and look through the peephole cautiously. Who would disturb you that late on a race weekend? Looking through the hole you see Logan at the door, his face unusually pale and his expression unnervingly neutral. Quickly you reach for the doorhandle, pulling the door open. “Logie? What got you a-knocking that late?”, you ask jokingly but the lighthearted smile on your face quickly fades as he stands on the swell of your door like a man lost, his eyes suspiciously watery. “Oh dear”, you mumble as you quickly pull him into your room and heard him towards your bed, letting him sit down before standing before him and looking at him with a stern expression. “What’s wrong?”, you ask, concern written all over your face.

He sighs, falling back onto the bed. “They’re taking my car.”, his voice sounds wobbly as he explains. “Who is taking your car?”, you ask, your voice confused.

“James. He said Alex has a higher chance of scoring and I get it, but I tried so hard, you know? They said they trusted me, and I was ready to proof how much I have improved and now I can’t drive at all. I didn’t crash the car! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything…”, he rambles, his voice flowing between sadness, anger and betrayal before ending in defeat. You look at him, he still has his upper body lying on your bed, his feet dangling off the side as he continues explaining what had happened. Quietly you sit down next to him on the bed and gently stroke through his hair as you let him talk out his frustrations. “y/n? What do I do now?”, Logan asks as he looks up at you, his eyes still wet but trying his hardest to not shed a tear.

“I will put the fear of God into that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”, you explain very matter of factly. “I’m gonna walk down to the Williams hospitality and I’m gonna scream at your team principal!”, you declare with a huff as you get off of your bed and towards where you kicked off your shoes when you came back from the paddock earlier that night.

“Y/N, do NOT do that.”, Logan warns as he gets up and grabs your hand. “That is just going to make it worse.” “Okay but it’s also gonna make me feel a lot better ‘cause who does he think he is? Taking your car and giving it away. I’m gonna make him regret this entire week” you say angrily as you look up at him with determination and the wrath of someone who’s best friend was just wronged in your eyes.

“Please don’t”, Logan asks with sad eyes, gripping your hand even tighter. “Please just stay with me tonight, I feel sick. I just want to cry.”, he admits to you as you feel your resolve break. “But- “, you trail off as you watch him stand before you, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You sigh in defeat before squeezing his hand. “Right but only ‘cause you asked me to, if it was up to me…”, you stop, leaving the threat hang in the air of your hotel room as you head towards the small desk. “Pizza”, you declare as you shove the leftovers of your pizza into Logans hands. “My TV has Netflix, what do you want to watch?”, you ask as you throw yourself into the hotel room bed and turn on the flatscreen TV hanging opposite it.

Logan lets out a surprised laugh and sits down next to you, the pizza carton still tightly in his hands as he gets out a slice and lets you choose whatever show you find on the homepage. The evening continues in relative silence as Logan finishes the pizza and you sit in the bed, leaning onto each other. “I’m still sending him negative vibes, like spiritually”, you grumble as he giggles before slipping off to sleep for the night.

#logan sargeant #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #x reader #logan sargeant x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #first fic in a long time #ls2 x reader #ls2

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gilbirda · 1 year

Text

Okay, I want to follow this content. What do I do?

Hello everyone.

So given the recent raise of "tag me!" replies in fics going around Tumblr, and given the recent awareness post about how disheartening, annoying and sometimes disappointing it can be to only get that kind of engagement — I've thought it was a good idea to explain what you can do if you want to follow content.

Basing on what Dis already added to the original post, this is a more detailed list of what options you have when enjoying the content you see.

I liked this prompt, I wish to see all the additions to it. How can I keep up?

You can subscribe to the post!

Desktop: Left click on the three dots and click on "Subscribe to conversation"

Mobile: Go to the Notes and click the top right bell icon

I liked this fic the author posted and I wish to know when they post the next part. How can I be notified?

You have several options here:

Find their Ao3! A lot of authors crosspost on tumblr and ao3, or prefer to post a more polished version on ao3 later on. Whichever the case, you can go to AO3 and subscribe to the fic/author there if you'd like

2. Follow the author! Really. We don't bite. You can just follow the blog, as easy as that. Want to be notified any time they post anything? You can subscribe to the blog and get a notification when they post anything

EDIT: THERE ARE "SECRET" DASHBOARDS, and one of them is a dashboard of all the blogs you have turned on notifications.

Blog Subscriptions Dashboard or go to Settings and turn on the tab in Settings -> Lab

A post about more fun Tumblr dashboards

3. You can still request to be tagged if they continue! But don't let that be the ONLY engagement you do. Like the post. Reblog it. Leave a comment saying what you like, a keysmash, a lovely "hey i really like where this is going!" and then you can say "if you do continue, can you tag me?". 9/10 we would love to write down your name. I can't speak for everybody so it depends on the person, but we want to not feel like we are screaming to the void. Engage. Respond.

KEEP IN MIND: Tumblr is a reblog-based social media. There is no algorithm. We get readers ONLY via reblogs. Likes? Likes are nice but do nothing. You liked the art? REBLOG THE ART.

Another post about reblogging, why it doesn't feel annoying for authors and how you can reblog and add tags faster on desktop and mobile

UPDATE: Tumblr feature for desktop!!!!! If you hover with the mouse over a post and hit "shift+R", post is automatically reblogged!

I liked this oneshot and I wish to know if they will continue it.

If it's a oneshot, RESPECT IT. The author may not have plans for the story, or doesn't have the energy to elaborate. Or if they do, it will be waaaaay later.

Whatever the case, don't demand a continuation.

Really, don't. Is very rude.

Still want to shoot your shot and see if they continue it?

Reblog it! Say why you liked it! In the tags, in the same reblog, wherever! If the author gets inspired they will continue, but remember we do this for free in our free time, you don't know what their life looks like. Respect that.

PLEASE NOTE: You can still find them in AO3 and subscribe to the fic/author there.

I like the AU/Idea/Project, how can I follow any new content for it?

You can follow a tag!

A lot of authors have a specific tag for their AU/idea/project (eg. "plant princess au") that you can follow if you want to keep up. Just check the tags in the post and hit follow.

Desktop:

Mobile:

And that's it! If I have more ideas or examples I will add to the post.

Remember, the point is not to make fun or to make people apologize for the "tag me" replies. This is informative for newcomers and older users alike.

If you have any questions or worries don't hesitate to ask! 🙂👍💖

#psa #tumblr usage #tumblr #gil talks #tumblr etiquette #tumblr tips #how to tumblr #tumblr stuff

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nolita-fairytale · 11 months

Text

Carmy as Your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part one

masterlist | part two now that i've finished my top gun: maverick series, it's me i'm back and gearing up for season two. after a bout of food poisoning, i finally cracked and am writing this pregnancy headcanon that i said i wouldn't bc my ovaries would explode (looking at you @allthefandomstogether). anyways, a huge thank you to @carmensberzattos who pinged many an ideas back and forth about carmy as your baby daddy and screamed into the abyss about this on a friday night. i'm writing this with my main character from the make your heart surrender-verse, but can absolutely read as a standalone piece. posting now because i'm so damn excited but i may go back and add some more things later.

oh and this a headcanon series now so. that part.

carmy as your baby daddy:

sometime after the wedding, you and carmy decide that you're ready to start a family. you're not trying but you're not not trying, meaning you've gone off of birth control but you're not carefully monitoring your ovulation cycle either. you both figure that it'll happen when it happens and if it doesn't, there are many other ways to make a family.

carmy never really thought about having kids until the two of you got together. after adopting your kitty together, carmy got to see a your more nurturing side and taking care of something together as a team made him think about how much he wants a family with you. after sugar has her baby it really ups the ante. seeing carmy become an uncle is what starts the conversation about seriously starting a family, and every time carmy sees you holding the baby, it's 'when our kids this, and when our kids that' for days after.

you swear it's food poisoning. after a somewhat questionable late night meal, you spend half the night vomiting while carmy works a later night at the restaurant. you text him to bring ginger ale and tums home. of course he comes through because are you kidding this man is a caretaker?!

you insist that you're fine and much better, even though you're absolutely exhausted. things are so busy at work for you (and have i mentioned the pregnancy fatigue) that you don't think much of it when a few nights later, you find yourself kneeling on the bathroom floor once again.

there are always little kids running around at the extended family gatherings and which led to your realization (when you first met everyone) that carmy is surprisingly good with kids.

it's not till a week or two later (after your little bout of 'food poisoning') that you're at cicero's place for a family birthday party that it hits you. one of carmy's cousins (not richie kind of cousin teehee) has just had a new baby with his wife. you've been catching up with ava, richie's daughter because you've become an auntie of sorts to her. you find some time to steal away for a some girl-time but when you return, carmy is holding his new niece/nephew in his arms.

the sight of him holding the baby not only takes your goddamn breath away as he stares long and hard your way, his blue eyes piercing right through your heart, but it's then that you realize that you're a few weeks late. it's like time stops as you look at him, seeing him coo at the baby with the softest look on his face. the realization hits you, clear as day.

"holy shit." is all you say, earning a few funny looks from the berzatto extended family and friends. "carm, can i borrow you for a second?" you and carmy find a quiet place to talk inside. "you okay, babe?" "carmy i think i'm-. what if i-. i'm late." "what do you-? like.. late late?" "now that i think about it, a few weeks late, honey." "yeah?" he asks you, totally in shock and eyes wide. "yeah."

the two of you make an excuse to leave the party as soon as possible, and hurry to the nearest drugstore to pick up a pregnancy test. you wait till you're home to take it. "do you want me to come in, sweetheart?" "no, carmy! i don't want you to watch me pee, you weirdo!" you answer, even though you know he's just excited.

the two of you are pacing back and forth, practically making dents in the floor with your footsteps for what feels like the longest two minutes of your lives. when your timer goes off, you're both simultaneously freaking out about the fact that you're lives are about to change forever, while also really, really hoping for a positive result. and as the fates would have it, the test is positive.

"holy shit. holy fucking shit. we're- you're-, we're gonna-!" carmy is ecstatic as searches for words. "we're having a baby, baby!" you squeal jumping into his arms." "god, i love you so much," he says, grinning at you as wrap your legs around his waist. "i love you too, carm. so, so much."

you literally get the biggest kick out of calling him your baby daddy: to friends and family, coworkers, random strangers, in restaurants, at the gas station. you'll take photos of him at the farmers market and post on your ig story referring to him as your baby daddy because you find it hilarious. carmy doesn't find it as funny (even though he secretly loves it) and he's cherry-tomato red when you tell the checkout clerk at the bodega across the street from your place that your baby daddy is going to pick up the tab.

everyone at the restaurant is so excited for you! even richie cries a little when you tell him the news. you hadn't really gotten close to richie until ava grew super attached to you, which opened up a whole new avenue and understanding for your friendship with richie.

ever since you found out you were pregnant, carmy always has bread and ginger ale on hand for your morning sickness. he started making you your favorite soft scrambled eggs with toast, but the chives have been way too strong of a flavor for a sensitive tummy. it's slowly become eggs & toast and then just... toast, which you promptly apologize for stripping away any kind of artistic freedom he may have previously had.

you get near compulsive cravings for certain foods, and carmy is always ready to throw on a jacket and run across the street when you get midnight cravings.

carmy hates seeing how tumultuous pregnancy has been during your first trimester. he's always ready with a hair tie or a glass of water for when you're done throwing up. okay hear me out: but carmy starting to wear hair ties because he wants to always have one ready for you. he'll even take off a morning with you or call your workplace if you need a sick day just so that he can take care of you. even if you don't need care, he just wants to spend time with you and be there for you while you go through it.

we already know that carmy is an acts of service king. he is the tenderest, most gentle partner and wants to be as helpful as possible. if you're sick, he wants to make you feel better. if the pregnancy hormones are raging against the machine, he's more than happy to let you be upset, or get you off by any means if the hormones go that way too. he'll sit on the bathroom floor with you and rub your back until you need to vomit again. he'll give you the best morning head of your life. he'll run a bath for you when you need one. he checks in every hour on the hour in your first trimester, which you appreciate, but eventually have to ask him to chill the fuck out.

speaking of physical changes, the pregnancy boobs are ELITE. carmy is always there to make you feel beautiful despite your rapidly changing body, esp when your clothes start fitting differently.

the first time your bump starts showing and you point it out to him, carmy cries. or maybe he notices it first and he's just like... weeping and you're like: babe r u ok? and then you realize that you're showing and carmy is kneeling and admiring your baby bump and now you're crying. sorry, but i don't make the rules it's just a fact that this is how it would go down.

carmy is so emotional about this because he realizes that he finally gets to build the family he didn't have and he gets to build it with you.

well this just hijacked my writing plans oops. part two will be more 'you & carmy pregnancy things' and part three will be birth & post-birth.

tagging my carmy taglist in the comments below!

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #Carmy as your baby daddy

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jeannineee · 10 months

Note

i absolutely love your writing, it’s a m a z i n g !

if it’s not too much, could i pls request a fic where the bats boys are fighting over reader? it can have fluff, smut, angst, anything that you’re in the mood to write

thank you sooo much, ily 🩷

Intertwined

Batboys x Reader

a/n: this will more than likely have multiple parts. Requests are open, still.

PART TWO

Summary: reader was welcomed only six months ago to Rhysand’s Inner Circle as an advisor. She comes from the Faerie lands on the Continent, and was given her position after her efforts in the war with Hybern. Reader is a very powerful fae, and has grown close to Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel. She has grown very fond of all of them, as they have of her.

Reader had mind-speaking powers, but besides that, I’m keeping reader’s powers vague, but if anyone wants to give an idea on what powers reader should have, comment below and I’ll use it in future parts!!

Archeron sisters don’t exist in this fic lmfao.

warnings: canon-typical shit, maybe some slight suggestiveness?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud, obnoxious knocking on your door roused you from your sleep.

It paused for a moment, as though the person behind it heard you climbing out of bed, shuffling across the wooden floor. Then it resumed, the pounding hard enough that your door shook on the hinges.

“Fucking Hel, give me a minute,” you grumbled, roughly swinging the door open.

Cassian.

The general of the Night Court’s armies, leaning against your door frame, arms crossed over his chest, grinning like an idiot.

And, Mother save you, he was shirtless. Sweat glistened on his perfectly chiseled chest, as though he’d just finished training. You had to fight the urge to reach forward and touch the tattoos that swirled on his golden-brown skin, as you lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“There you are,” Cassian finally said.

“You were pounding on my door like a heathen.”

“Ouch. Such a grump in the mornings,” Cassian muttered, lightly shoving past you, and walking into your room.

“What do you want?”

Cassian dramatically clutched his chest, expression feigning hurt. “No ‘good morning?�� Or, ‘damn, Cas, you look good?’”

You stifled a laugh, going into your closet to change. You may or may not have left the door open slightly. Just in case.

As you began dressing for the day, you answered, “Good morning, Cassian. What do you want?”

Utter silence.

Once you were dressed, you left the closet, groaning audibly at what you saw.

“What I want,” Cassian mused from where he stood in front of your dresser, your pair of black lace underwear dangling from his fingertips. “Is for you to wear these.”

You stalked over to him, snatching the underwear. “Only in your dreams,” you replied as you stored it away.

“Correct. In all of them.”

“Pig.”

“You love it.”

You sighed loudly. “I’ll ask again: what do you want?”

“There’s an Inner Circle meeting in an hour.”

If a meeting was being called so suddenly, it had to be bad. You cleared your throat, shoving away your nervousness.

“You had to show up to my room, shirtless, in order to inform me of a meeting?”

Cassian shrugged. “Figured it was my duty, as your roommate, and friend.”

You arched a brow.

“Plus, I like watching you gawk at me. It’s a good look for you.”

He left your bedroom before the throw pillow could hit him.

~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, you made your way to the kitchen, where Azriel already had tea waiting for you.

The cream colored sweater he wore made him look much brighter than normal. It brought a smile to your face.

“Sleep well?” the spymaster asked, observing you as you sipped from your teacup.

“I slept great, until Cassian beat the shit out of my door.”

Azriel laughed. Laughed. Such a rare sound from him.

He laughs more, when you’re around, you recalled Mor saying once.

“I’ll give him a good talking to,” Azriel said with a soft smile.

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a few moments. You opened your mouth to speak, but you stopped short as Azriel’s shadows pooled around your feet.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t the first time his shadows reveled in your presence. They had a mind of their own, to an extent.

You held Azriel’s gaze again. “What is this meeting about?”

The earlier warmth in Azriel’s face disappeared, replaced with his usual cool, calculated expression.“More Illyrian camps are rebelling against Rhysand.”

“That’s not surprising.”

“They’re…they’re claiming that they’re rebelling so they can go back to their “traditional” ways. Some of the camps have already reverted back.”

Oh.

Clipping females’ wings, treating them as breeding stock.

Azriel’s face softened as he watched you take in the information. His scarred hands twitched, as though he instinctively wanted to reach out; comfort you. He thought better of it, though, his body stiffening as Cassian entered the kitchen, dressed in a red tunic, and black pants.

“Let’s go. Rhys will have our asses if we’re late,” the general said, eyes darting between you and Azriel. There was a hint of…something, there. Jealousy?

No. Couldn’t be.

“Since when do you care about punctuality?” you teased Cassian playfully, poking his chest.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of his voice drowned out as Azriel winnowed the three of you into Rhys’s townhouse.

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said the look in Azriel’s eyes as you bantered with Cassian also resembled jealousy.

You shoved the thought away, heading into the sitting room, where Rhys was already waiting with Mor and Amren.

Rhys’s eyes lingered on your form for a few seconds too long to be considered coincidental. When you caught him, he shrugged, speaking into your mind.

“You look rather delicious today, darling.”

Cauldron, spare you.

“Get out of my head, Rhysand,” you spoke into his mind.

“But it’s so nice here,” his voice dripped with tease.

You bit the inside of your cheek, making it a point to sit on the other side of the room, beside Mor.

You could’ve sworn there was a pout on the High Lord’s face as he spoke in your mind again. “You wound me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, to which he merely chuckled.

Mor greeted you with a hug, beaming as usual. “Doing okay, y/n?”

You nodded. “Just ready to get this meeting over with.”

Cassian and Azriel took seats beside Amren and Rhys, respectively.

The meeting droned on for almost two hours, with discussions of what to do regarding the rebelling Illyrian camps.

The conclusion? The Inner Circle would pay a visit Windhaven, where the Lords of the camps would hold a meeting, to discuss compromise.

Amren would stay in Velaris.

Mor was not happy with taking the route of dialogue.

“They’re brutalizing their women. Despite the laws you’ve set,” she told Rhys, face red with anger.

“We can’t just kill every warlord who refuses to comply,” Rhys countered. “I will give them a chance to discuss what they want.”

“You know what they want,” you cut in, cold fury in your words. “To them, women are objects—fucking cattle. They broke your laws, Rhysand. That can’t go unpunished.”

“It won’t go unpunished,” Rhys said, voice lethally quiet. “The warlords will have one final chance to comply at this meeting.”

“And the ones who don’t show? The ones who outright refuse?” Mor questioned.

Rhys smiled. The same smile he reserved for the Court of Nightmares. The same smile he gave Keir as he shattered his arms and legs, the night he dared call you a ‘whore,’ your first time in the Hewn City.

“They’ll die, screaming,” Rhys finally said.

Azriel shifted in his seat, something like rage flickering in his eyes as he nodded in agreement.

Cassian said nothing, but the way his siphons brightened at Rhys’s words told you he was more than happy to put an end to the rebels.

After a bit more discussion, the meeting ended, Mor and Amren being the first to leave.

Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel stayed behind, surely to map out the visit to Windhaven.

You turned to leave, but as you reached the foyer, Rhys spoke up. “Y/n darling? Leaving so soon?”

As you whirled back around to respond, your breath stopped short in your lungs. It felt as though the ground had been taken from under your feet. Your very soul seemed to be tugged in multiple directions.

Three directions, rather.

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #acomaf #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #Cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #batboys x reader #acosf #acowar #acofas #night court

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razzledazzle-pop · 5 months

Text

Okay Okay Okay—More Samder Slides headcanons time..You’ve opened Pandora’s Box…

Personal headcanons/design things:

Keeps food in his pockets and then forgets it’s there. The way I know the amount of crumbs are insane.

Re-attached his logo with haphazard stitching so it matched Virgil’s :]

Always loses one sock in each pair. ALWAYS.

Has THE most insane takes. Leads to a lot of fun Patton and Logan discussions actually (*Hits them with the Trolley problem*: DISCUSS)

Patton would take the Utilitarian approach I think…Would think you should always sacrifice the one person in the trolley problem instead of the five because it minimizes the most suffering).

To that point, I really do think all the sides would enjoy watching The Good Place. Probably also The Magic School Bus.

All film media in Patton’s room is on VHS. Even if it came out recently. He made them that way.

I know we’ve literally seen his room in canon but in my heart it looks like Howl’s Room in Howl’s Moving Castle (insane levels of eclectic).

Has set the kitchen on fire 237856 times. It will happen again.

Has hand-made bracelets (themed each of them around one of the other sides).

Also has a hand-made doll collection…Roman’s doll is kind of like a traditional princely doll, Logan is probably a cube craft doll, Virgil’s is Coraline style (later redoes it with Remus’ help to add Virgil’s extra legs and mandibles (they’re articulated. He’s very proud)). Remus is a finger puppet and Janus is a sock puppet (those last two might change later)…

To that point: he still has a spider phobia, but he’s working on it (mostly for Virgil. A lot of it is him being like “could you please describe “x” to me, or draw me a picture before you revert so I know what to expect? :).” It’s going well.

One time they tried theorizing what kind of spider Virgil was. Patton immediately threw in Jumping Spider (he’s not) but Logan was happy to hear Patton had done some kind of research into something.

He’s Roman’s test audience/proofreader. He may be a Yes Man, but he’s good at spotting when character motives are unclear in a story/just generally to bounce ideas around with. They have days where they parallel play. Patton does his arts and crafts and Roman does his writing. At the end of it, they swap and critique.

Me throwing my takes at you (thank you for coming to my TED Talk):

#sander sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #Roman sanders #Virgil sanders #my art #personal headcanons #I’m eepy. going to bed now #*throws this at you*#*runs*#I’m going to dig up my old philosophy notes for this mf #I’ll probably draw the doll collection later..Anywayz.#thinking frog Patton thoughts…will elaborate later #maybe #Sorry for projecting onto him. It will happen again.

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rae-writes · 11 months

Note

your writing is really amazing damnn

If it's okay with you may I request a risky sex with Mephistopheles? Like imagine doing it next to Lucifer room, MC try so hard not get caught and moan while Mephisto purposely do it rough just to piss off MC

AND also imagine if Lucifer knock on MC door to asking about the noise while they are doing it and Mephisto tell MC to reply to Lucifer while still pounding on them so MC struggling to not making anything suspicious at all HAHA

hope you never lost your bottle cap thankss

nsfw // gn!reader // lowercase intended

"Shh, Mc. You're too loud- you don't wanna get caught, do you? Though you seem to like that idea."

papers and books littered the floor half haphazardly, having been swiped off the table in mephisto's desperation to have you then and there.

your chest was flush against the wooden table in your room, hands white-knuckling the sides for stability as he pounded into you roughly.

his own hands had a bruising grip on your hips, teeth bared with his fangs on show, growling right next to your ear, "fuck, you feel so fucking good-"

"m-mephisto!" gasping, your let your head fall against the table, "slow d-OWN!"

a knock at your door had your blood icing over, but it didn't stop the fire licking at your insides the faster mephisto went— the bastard was doing it on purpose.

"mc? are you alright?" lucifer. he must've been next door in the common room.

the rich toned chuckle from the demon behind you made it hard to think, "y-yes, 'm fine, just stubbed my t-toe." one of your hands stretched to splay over mephisto's abdomen, sending a silent plea to slow down.

he intertwined his fingers with yours and slammed the hand right back down onto the table, "no!" he hissed, "cum- now. fucking cum all over my cock even though lucifer's right outside the door. come on, give it to me, cum for me- now!"

you bit down on your lip harshly, tasting a copper tang. it flooded your mouth just as your walls began convulsing, cumming despite your wishes at mephisto's command.

"are you sure? I smell blood."

mephsito's free hand came around to pry your jaw open, turning your head so his tongue could invade your mouth and lap at all the blood that had pooled, "fuck, fuck, fuck, yes- just like that, keep tightening around me-"

desperate to get lucifer to leave, you bit at the male's fingers, shaking your head free of his grip to quickly exclaim, "yes! just hit it really hard, 'm fine, I promise!"

a noise of affirmation left the demon behind the door, footsteps fading just in time for mephisto to push you down harder with a low 'thud' and growl loudly-

"cumming!" he gave a few more frantic thrusts before stilling, panting hotly against your neck, "f-fuck...my human...mine."

"Hush, Mephisto. S'too loud- gonna get us caught...sounds kinda fun though, right?"

harsh panting filled the bedroom, mixed with moans and the occasional whine. mephistopheles sat practically boneless in his own chair- in his own bedroom- while you rode him desperately.

“missed you s’much, ‘phisto— wanted you so. fucking. badly.” nipping at his neck, you tugged on his hair until you were face to face, “you wanted me too, right? left me right at the edge before leaving for two weeks- s’mean to me. g’na make up for it.”

“i-i’m sorry, I can make up for it later, I p-promise!” mephisto let out another, louder, whine when you shifted your hips, “lord diavolo is going to be here any minute-!”

it was clear by the way you sped up that you didn’t care in the slightest; you knew what you wanted and you were taking it.

muffling his noises with his hand, he hoped that diavolo would just wait in the foyer until he made an appearance because honestly,

“o-oh fuck, mc, yeah like that-“

mephisto didn’t want you to stop. the way you were bouncing on his cock like it was your own personal toy had him keening— you just felt too fucking good wrapped around him. his legs were like jello from how well you were fucking him and mephisto wasn’t stopping for anybody.

even if they were knocking at the door. “mephistopheles? lord diavolo and I have arrived. your parents said you haven’t been out of your room for a while—“

“—are you feeling well, mephisto?” diavolo sounded so concerned, it would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so focused on the demon in question.

gritting his teeth, mephisto rushed out a “i’m perfectly fine, my lord!” before he was crashing his lips on yours to muffle his whimpering. his eyes widened when you stopped bouncing, mouth threatening to let out a cry.

you hushed him, rolling your hips to grind instead. “you’re close, yeah, ‘phisto? i want it- give it to me. wanna feel it, please, please, please!”

he shook his head in defiance- like he had any choice when you worked his cock just right - and grabbed at your hips in an attempt to stop you, “not— shit, baby— not right now, by the devils, not right now-“

“are you certain? you sound a bit strained.”

slapping his hands away, you used one to grip his hair and the other to push him flush against the chair, “want. it. give it to me, mephisto, need it, pretty please? cum. for. me!”

mephisto gasped, voice louder than it should’ve been, “yesmylordi’mcertain!” before tapering down into a whisper, “fuck, mc, m'cumming! don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!”

your teeth found their way back to his neck, biting down over his pulse point, "good fucking boy."

"if you insist. barbatos and I shall wait downstairs for you."

he didn't have any time to reply before you were tugging him out of the chair and shoving him onto his bed.

"wanna sit on your face first. make me cum, too, 'phisto."

#obey me x reader #om x reader #obey me smut #om smut #obey me mephisto #obey me mephistopheles #mephistopheles x reader #mephisto x reader #mephisto smut #obey me smut drabbles

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wordsnstuff · 4 months

Note

Hi!

I have reached out to more people, but I'm still having problems with this, and I wanted to hear another opinion.

As a writer, do you have problems continuing a story once you hit a difficult scene?

Because I do, and honestly it's getting me frustrated at this point.

I have a good idea and a plot already done, but every time I hit a difficult scene I just get stuck, and can't write for weeks, sometimes months. I hardly even open the documents when it happens, and sometimes it comes right when I'm on a writing spree and being happy with my writing.

Do you have any advice on how to deal with this? How can I get past this issue and just keep writing more frequently?

I'd really like to hear it!

What do you do when you hit a snag?

When approaching this topic, the frustrating thing is that age-old advice has a lot of truth to it. Sometimes it is true that the best thing you can do when you're stuck is to stop struggling against the resistance and take a meaningful, intentional break to rest your mind and reset your thought process. Sometimes the key to getting started again is shaking up the routine and the altering the process until you find a new combination of habits that meet you where you are.

However, for a lot of us, the turmoil reaches deeper than that. A lot of people who do creative things are neurodivergent, so that has a place in the conversation when discussing what's preventing us from realizing our vision. Even if you don't identify with specific neurodivergence, there are a lot of tools and techniques that have been tried and tested for coping with immense, intrinsic difficulty with things like productivity, mindfulness, interoception, focus, and consistency. Just because these techniques are not specifically designated for you doesn't mean they won't be effective for you.

It is always a helpful exercise to take a step back and examine how you're feeling, both when you are writing and when you aren't, and try to identify any areas where you might be able to improve by changing things within your control.

When it comes to a specific scene holding you back from carrying on, I usually find that it's the result of a decision I made earlier in the plot that isn't serving the story as it continues to develop. I would take a chunk of time to take an analytical look at the scene, where it's come from, what is and isn't sparking in it (is the stagnation mostly due to the characters, events, environment, or lack of information, and is it a scene that is imperative to the reader's understanding?). A lot of the time, it's a scene that can be cut, or it's a scene that can be made redundant by infusing the necessary information of the scene into another place within the story.

If you've identified a scene as "a difficult scene", ask yourself why. If it's daunting because it's too long, then it can probably be cut way down and then added to later if while editing it seems a little thin. If it's challenging because things aren't falling into place and you aren't getting into a flow, then the set-up for the scene probably hasn't been developed effectively and you need to decide whether you're gonna go back in the draft to investigate or move on and return to it while editing.

If the information in the scene needs to be communicated at this specific point in the story, the problem might be the way you've chosen to present it. Pay attention to what your instincts are telling you, because pushing through a scene for the sake of getting past it will not produce a compelling scene to read. If you need to move past it, you have permission to do that. You can always come back and completely dig it up later.

Overall, I think it's very important to write with acceptance that the plot may not turn out the way you planned it. The process is much more effective and much more enjoyable if you aren't trudging along on a predestined path. If the characters and story develop outside of the lines, see where they go. You'll always have the opportunity to return to the outline and tailor later.

Best of luck,

x Kate

#writing #writeblr #writespo #writing advice #writing tips

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stevie-petey · 5 months

Text

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet.

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm.

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked.

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10.

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met.

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever.

Then it all comes rushing back to you.

Will’s body in the quarry.

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend.

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal.

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated.

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before.

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second.

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you.

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening.

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating.

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown.

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations.

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help.

You both just know.

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks.

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger.

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine.

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will.

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do.

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around.

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt.

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important.

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast.

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse.

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence.

He’s gone.

–

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality.

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know.

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later.

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner?

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.”

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd.

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response.

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce.

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways.

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough.

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything.

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods.

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh.

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.”

“Anytime, bee.”

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak.

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day.

You’re in love with Jonathan.

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about.

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time.

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings.

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside.

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her.

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well.

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat.

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do.

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can.

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man.

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce.

–

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car.

You sigh.

This day definitely sucks.

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well?

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom.

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice.

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes.

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place.

“Mom, stop!”

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that.

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache.

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them.

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!”

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you.

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though.

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!”

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves.

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive.

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes.

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive.

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive.

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn.

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.”

“But-”

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan.

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan.

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him.

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?”

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.”

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.”

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone.

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.”

“I said a lot yesterday-”

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent.

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.”

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments.

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him.

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?”

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?”

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.”

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand.

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start.

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile.

You’ll take whatever you can get.

–

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does.

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place.

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious.

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her.

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.”

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place.

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.”

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.”

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.”

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend.

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El.

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong.

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says.

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway.

“Maybe she did run away-”

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons.

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom.

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.”

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-”

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore.

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.”

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.”

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.”

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening.

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?”

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think.

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not.

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers.

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot.

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure.

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

–

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start.

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy.

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth.

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him.

It’s a nauseating feeling.

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place.

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is.

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.”

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?”

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?”

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.”

“And then-”

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you.

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.”

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking.

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.”

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is.

Your smile vanishes.

He wants to impress her.

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama.

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.”

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about.

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.”

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?”

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away.

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him.

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now.

–

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him.

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.”

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…”

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan.

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window.

“Hello again, Henderson.”

“I never said hello back to you.”

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.”

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly.

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless.

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.”

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty.

Fuck Steve Harrington.

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.”

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words.

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?”

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused.

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.”

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by.

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers…

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you.

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh.

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.”

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety.

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate.

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down.

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans.

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.”

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.”

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.”

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

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sereneres · 5 months

Text

miss me ⁰

huh yunjin x fem!reader / 2k

summary. — conversations you had with jennifer, or, rather, yunjin, before her debut as a member of le sserafim.

warnings. — drinking / mentions of produce 48 + iz*one / implied kissing / requited yet unrequited love. / angst w no happy ending. / may or may not become a series

“do you miss it?”

you hum absentmindedly, not paying as much attention to the girl beside you compared to the essay you were writing. you soon regret it, though, because not a second later, you feel her foot hit yours. hard.

you weren’t the type who liked giving satisfaction to others, though, so even though it hurt like hell, all you said was a monotone, “ow.”

jennifer has always been able to see through your facade, though, so all she did was roll her eyes and mumble something about how you “weren’t any fun” under her breath before speaking at a normal volume again. “answer my question, yn.”

playing dumb, you tilt your head. “what question?” you asked, playing dumb, much to her chagrin.

“you-“ she starts but cuts herself off, shaking her head. “urgh, i asked if you missed it.”

“missed what?”

this time, you weren’t playing dumb, genuinely confused by the girl’s words.

“y’know, the show.” she pursed her lips. “the one we did in korea?”

“ah… produce forty-eight?” jennifer nods. “no, i don’t.” you pause before asking a tentative, “do you?”

she sighs, dropping her head into her arms and barely missing the keyboard of her laptop. “maybe,” comes the muffled response, followed quickly by a, “is that bad?”

“no.” she raises her head, high enough so that she could make eye contact with you with only one eye but low enough that a majority of her face was hidden. “it isn’t.”

“why?”

you raise an eyebrow. “why would it be bad?” you ask her, feeling partially confused and mostly curious. “it’s your feelings, not mine. i don’t have any say on them.”

“but…” jennifer trails off, remembering just how much hate you got on the show, during and after your elimination. it’s probably not the best idea to mention it, though, she decides to say something else. “it was just so bad for you. the diets, the practice, the way the other trainees treated you…”

you shrug. “that’s just how the idol industry works.” you say, making her frown. “and it’s not like they treated the other foreign trainees any different.”

“still, it was rough for you.” she insisted, pushing herself off of her stomach and onto her shins. “i-“

“it’s fine if you enjoyed being on the show, jennifer.” you interrupt, giving her a frown of your own. “you are the most idol-esque-“

“idol-esque?” she asked, amused. “what does-“

you press a finger to her lips, glaring at her in a way that made her stomach churn, and if you noticed her cheeks changing from her natural skin tone to a more pink-ish color, well, you didn’t comment on it.

“shush.” you mutter, frown deepening. “i’m talking so you need stay quiet and listen to me.” had you not been more focused on getting your point across, you would have cringed at just how… fanfic-like your words sounded. “got it?”

intimidated and suddenly feeling a little too warm, jennifer nods, gesturing for you to continue with her eyes.”

“as i was saying…” you cough, embarassed as you pulled your finger away from the girl’s lips. “you are the most idol-esque person i’ve ever met. just because no one voted for you–they’re assholes by the way–doesn’t mean that you weren’t built for the stage.”

if she was blushing before, then jennifer was for sure red now. “you… you mean it?”

“mhm.”

“that’s…” she blinks, laughing softly out of both embarassment and happiness. “that’s… no one has ever told me that before.”

“that’s ‘cuz everyone’s stupid.” you mutter, pulling the girl down back onto the bed and into your arms. “i mean it, huh jennifer. you’ll be a star one day, i just know it.”

she tenses a little in your arms, both surprised and a little flustered, but she settles into them quickly, wrapping her arms around your waist and sighing at just how warm you were.

“a star, huh?”

“i miss how we used t’be.”

jennifer has always gotten sentimental whenever she drank a little too much, and, while you weren’t necessarily sober, you certainly weren’t drunk enough to want to listen to whatever depressed ramble she was about to go on.

so, with that said, you finish the can of beer in your hand and chuck it into the back of the car. the resulting clang! told you that maybe the two of you had drank a little too much, but that was okay. tonight was supposed to be ‘black out drunk’ night anyway.

“i miss how clos’we were.” she continued to mumble, shifting so that she could sit up properly in her chair, only to slump again. “the show… ruined us.”

“it did.” you acknowledge, bobbing your head absentmindedly up and down. “but i think…” you trail off, blinking hard when you feel the world spin a little too hard. “but i think,” you repeat, voice more steady, “it ruined you mo’than it ruined m’.”

“it did.” jennifer agreed, her head making a quiet thud. upon making contact with the car window. where her breath hit the cold glass, a circle of coddensation grew and shrank with her exhales and inhales. “but tha’s only ‘cuz you didn’ really care for th’show.”

“i didn’t.” you bowed your head and pinched the bridge of your nose. god, just the thought of the headache you’d get later, once you woke ip sober, was enough to give you a headache now. “i only joined ‘cuz you didn’t want to be alone.”

jennifer snorts. “i knew that.” she said, and it isn’t much of a surprise to you that she did. she’s always known everything about you. “i guess is’ fitting that we ended up gettin’ eliminated together, huh?”

“rank twe’y-s’x,” you slur out, one finger pointing–touching–the other girl, you motor skills getting worse and worse as the alcohol began to take affect, “and rank th’rty.” you point at yourself.

she sighs, taking your hand and absentmindedly playing with it. “d’you ever wonder what would’ve happ’ned if we actually got in?”

“to iz*one?”

“what else?”

you hum. “n’really.”

she too hums, nodding her head sagely. “you didn’t want to be an idol to begin with, so i guess that makes sense.”

“you’re upset.” you note, the corner of your lips tugging into a frown. “did you really want to be in iz*one?”

“yeah.” jennifer looks up at you. “‘s that bad?”

you vaguely remember her saying something like that maybe a week or so earlier, but with how inebriated you were, you couldn’t remember why.

“no.” you say simply, and she hums and nods again. she’s been doing that a lot as of late.

from the corner of your eye, you could see her head turn to look at the clock displayed on the infotainment system–why was it even called that, and how did you know it was called that?–above your console. “it’s almost midnight.” she notes.

you blink, the sudden topic change giving you whiplash. “huh?”

“midnight.” she repeats. “‘s new years.” she pauses, reaching back and taking the last beer can from it’s case before opening it, a loud sshhh! following her words. “remember?”

right. new years. that was why the two of you were in your car, drunk out of your minds past the time you would normally drink. because of new years.

as if realizing just how cold it was, you shiver, tugging your blanket tighter around your body.

“you’re cold.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “no shit, sherlock.”

“i know something that can warm you up.” she murmurs, ignoring your harsh words. “would you like it?”

perhaps if you weren’t as drunk as you were, you would’ve noticed the way jennifer was looking at you or, more specifically, your lips. and maybe if you weren’t so drunk, you would’ve realized that the girl was inching closer and closer to you and your lips.

that said, you’re not sure if you would’ve cared if you were sober.

humming, she takes another sip of her beer before placing the can down and taking your neck and-

oh.

“happy new years.”

oh.

“…happy new years.”

“would you miss me if i left?”

you blink, only sparing a glance at the girl to your right before looking back onto the road. your janky headlights had little effect on the seemingly eternal darkness around you, and you didn’t want to accidentally hit a pole, another car, or, worse, an animal, just because you weren’t paying attention.

“not really.”

jennifer, partially offended and mostly just drunk, lets out an indignant huff. “rude.”

you shrug as best as you could with both your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “it’s the truth.” you say simply, wincing when you feel the girl pinch you in retirbution for your words. “you haven’t done anything worthy enough of missing.”

“you’d miss talking to me,” she insists. “you’d miss walking with me around the city-“

“you drag me out to do that.”

maybe it’s because she’s drunk or just doesn’t care anymore, but jennifer ignores you instead of picking a fight like she usually would have done. “you’d miss the way i kiss you whenever we got too drunk to care about the consequences.”

you tense, or, rather, freeze. she had never once mentioned it, sober or drunk, so to for her to bring it up now…

“maybe.” you murmured, “you’re a good kisser.”

at your words, the girl preens and laughs haughtily. “why, thank you. it comes with the experience of kissing millions of women and men.”

“millions?” you raised a brow.

“okay, well maybe not millions, but a lot.” she huffs. “i’m pretty sure i’ve kissed every girl at our old school.”

“all of the girls you’ve kissed were either questioning if they were gay, doing it to get someone’s attention–usually a guy–or just wanted to get their first kiss done and over with.” you deadpanned. “and sometimes it was all three.”

“details, schetails.” jennifer says dismissively, waving a hand at you and nearly stabbing you in the eye with her long nails. “point is, ‘m a good kisser.”

“you are.” you couldn’t even disagree. jennifer was a good kisser and you’re pretty sure that on your short list of random girls you’ve kissed before, she was number one.

you don’t think you’ve ever disagreed with yunjin.

“so you would miss me, right?” she asked again. “for the kisses.”

“for the kisses.” you repeated, nodding.

“would you miss me if i went to korea?”

you hum, considering the question. “maybe. but don’t worry, i’ll get over it.”

“‘i’ll get over it’?” she repeats, sounding suspicious. “shouldn’t you be saying, ‘if you really did go, i’d probably get over it’?”

you snort, flopping onto your bed and sighing. “what, did you get that from a fanfiction or something?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow even though you knew she wouldn’t see it. “never though you’d be the type to say what you read.”

“answer the question, yn.”

“there is no ‘if’ if you’re already going to korea.” you mutter, pursing your lips. “i saw the email. from source-whatever entertainment.”

you’re pretty sure you sound bitter but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. not when… whatever this was was happening.

“you looked through my stuff?” she asked, sounding half annoyed and half agitated. “yn, that’s-”

“you left your laptop open for anyone and everyone to see.” you interrupted. “during our sleepover. it was like you wanted me to see.”

she goes silent, and vaguely, you could hear an announcement calling for anyone boarding a flight to korea.

“why didn’t you ask me to stay?” she asked, her voice so quiet that you could barely hear it.

“would you have stayed if i asked you to?” you ask in response, heart clenching when all that followed your qeustion was silence rather than the clamoring you had expected–wanted to hear.

there are a million things you want to say to the girl on the other end of the call but you can’t bring yourself to say any of them so all you say in response to her response, or lack thereof, is, “you… you should probably go. that’s your flight they’re calling, isn’t it?”

“it-” she coughs, clearing her throat. if you strained your ears, you could hear her do the quietest sniffle in the world. “it is.”

“i guess this is it then.” you clear your throat, hoping to any god listening that your voice wouldn’t crack. “good bye, yunjin.”

beep.

masterlist.

#sereneres #seren.writes #seren.indulgence #kpop x reader #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #lesserafim imagines #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #au.yn

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wingsofimagery · 9 months

Text

Bucket of Surprise

✴ Summary: To say you're surprised is an understatement when a student's prank has led to you breaking down in private. Yunho would rather drown in your tears than let you cry on any longer. ✴ Characters: PE Teacher!Jeong Yunho x Teacher!reader ✴ Genre: Hurt Comfort ✴ Warnings: Kinda bullying, not really. ✴ Word Count: 744 ✴ A/N: Just a little short writing for my friend!!

“I’m so sorry; he made me do it.”

Yunho’s eyes were uncharacteristically widened as he stared at your figure drowned in ice-cold water. The students laughed at you while the culprit looked ashamed of what he had been dared to do. You were shocked, to say the least. You did not think your students would do this to you, as most behaved well. You did not know whether to scold them or run off unprofessionally in embarrassment.

“Uh,” Yunho began, grabbing one of the extra towels he had laid out for students that may need it. He was a well-prepared PE teacher, one many students were fond of. His priority at this moment was to get you out of the room and dried up before you caught a cold. The room had air conditioning, so the longer you stayed, the more susceptible you got.

He swiftly asked the teacher that walked in to collect their group of students to watch over the remaining kids before grasping your hand in his larger one. With a soft ‘come with me,’ the two of you left the room with kids oohing scandalously at both of you.

He took you to his office, where he grabbed an extra set of clothes for you to change into. You stayed quiet the entire time; the situation continuously played in your head, leading you to question why your student did that to you. Why were you the victim? They said they did not mean to, but it happened; that was something that could not be changed. Were you overthinking this? It was an innocent prank, after all. You were not physically harmed, so you thought you could let it go—

“Hey, change into these. The bathroom is across the hall; will you be okay?”

Maybe it was because of how gentle Yunho’s voice sounded, but the tears you unknowingly collected at the bottom of your eyes began to spill. Yunho frantically tried to reassure you. He did not know exactly how to handle this but he did his damnest to calm you down.

“We can scold them later! You’re okay! Look, it’s my fault that I let this happen. If I had been more observant I would have noticed and prevented it from happening.”

“What are you talking about?” you sniffled.

He pulled you into a hug, startling you since this kind of display of affection was reserved only for outside of work.

“Yun-”

“Shhh. Just take it in. I know how you feel very comforted by my hugs.”

So you listened to him and squeezed your arms around him tightly. You were going the milk the love out of him from this hug that would otherwise had to wait until you got home. The two of you were silent until you realized you got his clothes wet too. You immediately pulled away.

“I’m sorry—” he cut you off again.

“Princess, it’s okay. Just go, and get cleaned up. We have one more class and then it’s the end of day. Let’s get through this so we can get out and I will treat you to something good. How about it?”

You laughed gleefully, nodding as you pulled away. You liked the idea a lot. Getting to spend time with your favorite puppy and getting to eat good food was always a hit for you. So you made haste with changing out of your wet clothes and into his extra set.

When the two of you walked back to the gym, your arms folded before your chest.

“Alright, now I need you all to cooperate and tell me whose idea this was. Either the entire class is being punished, or you tell me who it is, and I’ll only punish that one person.”

A few students were quick to spout out a name. Yunho wrote up a slip for the kid and instructed them to go to the principal’s office.

With that resolved, you started to gather your students and made your way out of the gym. You sent Yunho a sweet smile, then waited for your students to all exit the room to blow a flying kiss his way. The way he caught it and smacked his palm against his lips as if that was you kissing him made you laugh. You gave him a wave before leading your students back to the classroom for the last period.

Neither you nor Yunho could wait for the end of the day.

#jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho imagines #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho fanfic #yunho scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic

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powerfultenderness · 5 months

Note

hey I reread some neighbor könig because it's so so so good and I finally had an idea!! no worries if it's not your jam or if you have other writing to do or you're not feeling the writing spirit or literally anything else, I'll be just fine!! anyways anyways the idea is that reader comes home late one night wasted and könig takes care of her. and perhaps if you're so inclined she keeps asking him for saucy stuff and I mean he's not a creeper so of course he's not gonna do that stuff while she's drunk!! but he sure does want to. again again I love anything you write and I will drink any scraps of könig/any others up!! may the gods of writer's spirit bless you🙏🙏🙏

Yes! Gentleman König is an hc no one can take from me! This turned out a little softer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

(Rated Mature 18+ for some suggestive conversation and drinking)

König’s body jolted, the sound of his phone waking him from the pleasant haze of dreams, and slapped a heavy hand around his nightstand.

“This better be good,” he growled into the phone, not having even bothered to check who called.

“Kö” hiccup, “nig?”

He shot up, already jumping out of bed and rushing around the room to pull on a pair of shorts and a shirt. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

He had run into you earlier in the night, dressed so prettily and smiling as you told him you were going out with friends. He knew he should have followed you. But he took one look at you in that revealing dress and all common sense left his brain.

His stomach sank, nervous adrenaline rushing through his veins, as you sobbed out a weak, “help.”

He quickly stuffed his feet in his shoes as hastily threw his hood on as he spoke to you and rushed out of his flat. “Where are you?” He could get the details later, find out who he had to kill later, after he made sure you were-

He froze, only for half a second, as he found you slumped on the floor outside of your door. He hung up and slid his phone in his pocket as he rushed over to you with a shout of your name.

You looked up at him, eyes big and wet with unshed tears and slurred out his name. “König!”

The stench of alcohol washed over him like a wave as he knelt down next to you. “What happened? Are you ok?” He asked as he held your shoulders and dragged his eyes down your body to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“My key stopped working!” You cried out, throwing your hand behind you at the door and hitting it a little too hard. “Ow!”

He winced and took your hand in his, gently rubbing where you hurt yourself.

“I swear I paid my bills!” You cried again and threw your head back, he was quick enough to cradle your head before it hit the door.

“Ok, darling. Let’s get you up.”

You groaned and flopped your head to the side, leaning even more on the door. So he picked you up and set you on your feet, a little blush warming his face when you giggled out a surprised “so strong!” and then leaned against him, nuzzling your face against his chest.

With one hand planted in the middle of your back so you didn’t fall over, he checked the key hanging from the door. Sure enough it was stuck. It gave a bit of resistance but he managed to pull it out and chuckled when he saw it.

“This is your mailbox key.”

“Huh?”

He unlocked the door with the proper key and gave you a gentle nudge, trying to get you to walk inside. You groaned again and slumped even further against him.

“König,” you mumbled into his shirt, “can you carry me? Like a princess?”

“Alright. Come on, princess.” He picked you up with an amused huff, being careful not to hit your feet on the doorjamb as he walked through.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and giggled when he picked you up. You attempted to repeat the cognate, and drunkenly failed (far too many ‘s’), but he nodded and closed the door with his foot.

“That’s,” you mumbled as he gently set you down on the couch. “I’m. I’m your princess, right, König?”

The alcohol once again had you miserably mispronouncing the word. It still had him chuckling and blushing beneath his mask, though. He nodded as he kneeled down in front of you. “Yes. You are my princess.”

Gently he took one of your ankles in hand, another smile tugging at his lips as you started to laugh again, he was unsure if you were laughing at his words or because his gentle touch had tickled you. His own ankles protested as he looked at the strappy heels you were wearing. Sexy, certainly, but it’s no wonder you ended up on the floor. He removed your shoes and set them to the side of the couch. “Stay here, you need to drink some water.”

You were half laying down when he came back with a glass of water. He set the glass down and maneuvered you so you were sitting up again.

“Drink.” He held the glass up to your lips, glad that you didn’t try to find him. “How did this happen?” He asked once you swallowed a few sips.

You shrugged. “Got ditched.”

He stiffened next to you, a growl stuck in his throat as he bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything bad about your so called friends.

You sighed and dropped your head back on the couch. “My friend met a guy. I hope he actually eats pussy, for her.”

König’s head snapped to you, “what?”

You let out a lethargic laugh and turned your head, still leaning against the back of the couch, and raised your hands in frustration. “They’re so hard to find! Adrian is the only guy I’ve ever met that actually likes doing it!” You whined and slapped your hands over your face. “Why did I break up with him?”

He coughed, tried to sputter out something that honestly neither of you understood, and you mistook it for a laugh.

“It’s not funny! I’m never gonna find a guy to eat me out again.”

You finally dropped your hands from your face and looked at him. “Oh! Shit! I’m sorry!” It was only now that you realized how uncomfortable your comments had made him. His knee was bouncing up and down nervously and his hands had an iron grip on his shorts. “I didn’t mean to- It’s okay if you don’t like to eat pussy, König!”

“What!”

“You don’t have to do it! I’m sure you-”

“But I want to!”

You paused your ramble and narrowed your eyes at him, he was refusing to look at you. “You want to…”

He nodded and still refused to look at you as he answered, “yes.”

You gasped and straightened up, one of your hands landing on his thigh. “König-”

He cut off your next question by gently slapping a hand over your mouth, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “Don’t ask me that. Please, ask me when you’re sober.”

You stared into his eyes, wide and dilated, and slowly raised a hand to tap his hand over your mouth. Slowly he dropped his hand and once again looked away from you.

“I was gonna ask,” he stiffened where he sat, “if you could stay and cuddle with me.”

“What?”

This time, you were the one shyly looking away from him. “I like when we cuddle. You make me feel safe.”

“Oh.” König’s heart thumped in his chest. You were completely wasted, and still everything you said only made him like you even more. He nodded and stood up. You giggled as he gently scooped you up in his arms again and carried you to your room.

“Yes. I will keep you safe, princess.”

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 @wybwtjmiadz @ghonigsloverbabe @thatmusedhatter @grassclippers @skystreamchan

#könig x reader #könig x fem reader #neighbor!könig #crisped-jello #blurb #short #idk what it is but everything i've written for könig lately is just turning out so fluffy #unfortunately for Reader here. She does not remember the next morning that König said he likes to go down 😆#also tysm! i'm so happy to hear that you like the series so much!! ❤

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bellofthemeadow · 7 months

Note

Harrington!reader, Steve’s little sister. Popular, a cheerleader, first time senior and Chrissy’s best friend. But she has a secret that only her best friend knows. She’s had a crush on Eddie Munson since middle school. She’s afraid to tell him, thinking there’s no way he’d be into her. Until one day in the cafeteria, Jason Carver calls Eddie a freak. She confronts him, and punches him in the face, breaking or spraining her hand/wrist. Guess her little secret is out, and she may never be popular again.

OF COURSE MY DEAR ANON! I am so sorry it took forever to address this request! I have just started my final year of Uni, and with four seminars and graduate applications, I have not had any time to write consistently! But this idea was too enticing to pass up, so thank you very much for sharing it! For those waiting on other fics, I am slowly but surely getting back into the groove of writing more consistently so it should all come out sooner rather than later (hopefully) and I always welcome more fics or one shot ideas! Thank you to y'all for bearing with me, I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️

No warnings excpet for some violence (against Jason Carver so thats fine I think) and some heavy make out session

Word Count: 5.3K

Masterlist

Hit Me Baby One More Time

You had gotten your first taste of popularity on your very first day of middle school, a couple of years ago. That entire week leading up to it had been filled with fear and stress about what people would think of you. Overwhelmed, you had spent the last few days of your summer agonizing over your outfit choice, turning your daily fashion show into a reluctant performance for your big brother, Steve. Despite his huffs and puffs, he had reassured you that everything would go smoothly, but you couldn't help to worry. Eventually, you ended up settling on a cute white dress that reached just above your knees, paired with a soft baby pink cardigan. You had hoped it would be enough to get some of the right kind of attention that Steve always talked about.

In hindsight, you realized that you might have been a tad dramatic as when lunchtime had rolled around, a group of girls had approached you, giggling with excitement. "Are you Steve Harrington's sister?" they had asked-whispered with bright envious eyes. You slowly nodded, and with elated giggles, they ushered you over to their table, where the popular crowd was hanging out. It turned out your brother had quite the reputation, and while you knew he was popular, you hadn't fully grasped the extent to which the name Harrington would impact your social life. For you, Steve was just the idiot older brother who used Farah Fawcet's hairspray to keep his dumb hair in place – But to everyone else, it seemed that Steve was a pretty big deal. So, you were, it seemed, a legacy, and the rest, as they say, was history. And that very day, you also ended up meeting your future best friend, Chrissy Cunningham, who you would grow to love with all your heart.

Five years had come and gone, and now, you were finally well-established into your senior year, ready to graduate in the spring. And while it was true that your older brother might have facilitated your initial entry into the realm of popularity, you had since etched out a distinctive name for yourself. As your brother moved on to new chapters in his life (namely an underpaid job at family video), your own journey through high school took a markedly different path. In fact, your popularity had continued to ascend, like a rising star in the night sky.

Though the Harrington name may have laid the foundation, you had meticulously built upon it, brick by brick. You had cultivated your own unique persona, and it had become a force to be reckoned with in the hallways of your school. No longer living in the shadow of your brother's glory days, you had emerged as a charismatic figure in your own right.

You had become The Harrington sibling who truly counted, especially after the dramatic showdown between Steve and Billy Hargrove during his own senior year. In the aftermath of that clash, your brother's social standing had taken a considerable hit, with much of his social credit being seized by the mullet-wearing bad-boy. The Harrington name, which had once been associated with Steve's swagger, now conjured images of a radiant, saccharine smile, cheerleading outfits, and a personality as pinky-sweet as bubblegum.

While Chrissy indisputably reigned as the queen of Hawkins High, some believed it was only because you had no desire to claim that throne—a belief rooted in truth as you had no interest of being the queen of anything, especially Hawkins High as beyond Chrissy, you harboured little affection for the other members of the popular clique. Whether it was Jason Carver and his cronies or the remainder of the cheer squad, you couldn't help but find them increasingly vapid.

Nestled at the popular table right in the heart of the bustling cafeteria, always donning Hawkins’ green cheer outfit, a nagging sensation of inauthenticity always clung to you. Hitching deep into your soul, making you feel like the fraud you’ve always believed yourself to be as although your elevated social status had smoothed your journey through high school, ensuring a constant stream of party invitations, a steadfast companion, and even a few favors from teachers who were drawn to your preppy smile and sunny disposition, it all felt like a facade, far removed from your true self.

You’ve always known how deep inside, there were facets of who you really were that you couldn't openly share with anyone but Chrissy. She alone knew of your profound love for fantasy and science fiction novels. Nothing brought you more joy than retreating home to dive headlong into the mystical realms crafted by H.P. Lovecraft or to lose yourself once more in the pages of your well-worn copy of "Frankenstein." Yet, these passions remained concealed beneath the veneer you projected: the princess of Hawkins High, painted in shades of pink, sweet, and deceptively perfect.

The idea of letting those hidden, nerdy passions of yours see the light of day felt like a risky bet, one that could potentially leave you feeling incredibly alone at Hawkins High. The thought of losing friends and having nowhere to sit during lunch was a constant source of worry. You had faith in Chrissy's unwavering support, regardless of your social standing, but you couldn't bear the idea of burdening her. She was just so kind, always forgiving even to those who didn't deserve it, and you didn't want to be the one responsible for pulling her down.

As a result, the decision to keep these aspects of your identity hidden weighed heavily on your heart. It felt like an unspoken loneliness, a sacrifice you were making to preserve the fragile balance of the life you'd carefully constructed in high school. Hawkins High had its own intricate ecosystem, and you were very much a part of it. Your place within that system was delicate, and you couldn't afford to disrupt it, fearing that it might set off a chain reaction that could destabilize everything. You had no intention of being the one to upset the frail high school biome of Hawkins High.

Now, however, your situation was far from ideal as you found yourself sandwiched between Carly and Tina during lunch, and today, they were even more exasperating than usual. There seemed to be some sort of fallout from Tina's last party, something involving a boy, and now the two girls communicated exclusively through snarky remarks, making the tension rise with every snip from either girl. A brewing headache was beginning to claw at your temples as you were waiting for the explosion to erupt sooner rather than later.

What was happening in front of you wasn’t any better as you were given a front-row seat to the somewhat uncomfortable sight of Jason Carver deeply engrossed in a passionate kiss with Chrissy. She appeared to be on the brink of embarrassment, her attempts to gently push Jason away carried out with shy reluctance. "Jason, please," she implored, her manicured hand finding its way to his chest, a plea in her eyes. "Not in front of everyone..."

In response, Jason merely rolled his eyes dismissively. "Come on, baby," he insisted, his voice low and unconcerned. "No one's even paying attention to us."

You couldn't help but scowl, unhappiness etching your delicate features as you watched the uncomfortable display unfold before you. Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You cleared your throat and loudly exclaimed, "Hey, Chrissy?" All eyes turned to you, and you continued, "Do you think we could slip away from lunch a bit early to go over the routine we've been practicing for the upcoming game? I really want to make sure I've got it down perfectly before tonight's match."

Chrissy's sigh of relief was almost audible, and you could sense her gratitude. In contrast, Jason huffed unhappily, clearly irritated by the interruption. He muttered something about leaving you girls to your conversation before he got up and headed to chat with one of his buddies at the far end of the table.

You and Chrissy shared a quick, wordless girl-to-girl conversation. All the words you needed were conveyed through a bombastic side-eye from you and a subtle nod of your head toward Jason. Chrissy responded with a playful roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her shoulder, silently agreeing with your sentiment.

As your eyes shifted away from Chrissy, they unexpectedly locked onto the deep brown ones of Eddie Munson. Two distinct emotions surged from deep within you. One was a rush of excitement as the warmth of your crush enveloped you, causing your face to flush as red as a ripe apple under his gaze. But in an instant, that crush felt almost crushing when you realized that it wasn't you that Eddie was looking at, but rather Chrissy's high ponytail that had captured his attention.

Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy and Eddie. ChrissyandEddie. It was an undeniable fact that the guy you had the most enormous crush on happened to be utterly smitten with your best friend. It felt almost tragically comical, if you were being honest with yourself. Throughout high school, countless guys had mustered the courage to ask you out, but you had dismissed them all without a second thought. Football jocks, band nerds, potheads, music fanatics – none of them could hold a candle to Eddie Munson in your eyes.From the very moment you first crossed paths with Eddie during your freshman year, your heart had been irreversibly, completely, and utterly captivated by the charismatic and outspoken boy. You were utterly unprepared for it, not like you were out there seeking Cupid's arrow to pierce your heart. You had simply been an unsuspecting victim of one of its whims, but the exquisite pain that followed was worth it. At least, you hoped so.

Thanks to Eddie's recurring attempts at redoing his senior year and your placement in advanced classes, your worlds intersected more than once. One particularly unforgettable encounter unfolded in Mrs. Allen's math class, where the teacher had a peculiar notion that pairing the class's worst student (Eddie) with its best (you) would somehow work magic. You were left a bit shy and entirely tongue-tied in his presence, but Eddie had an uncanny talent for leaning in close and delivering a barrage of side-splitting, utterly inappropriate observations about Mrs. Allen that left you snorting with laughter. For a glorious three months, Eddie was your math partner in crime, and during that time, you dared to believe that something more could evolve from your interactions. If only you could string together coherent sentences without tripping over your words.

However, as fate would have it, the teacher eventually grew tired of her seating arrangement, deciding it was high time to shake things up. This twist in your high school narrative resulted in you and Eddie being separated, an alteration you weren't particularly thrilled about. The new arrangement effectively put a damper on your burgeoning connection.

It was in the midst of this seating shuffle that Eddie tossed a rather loaded question your way, catching you off guard. "Your friend Chrissy," he began, as you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. "Is she still with that Carver douche?" Your gaze faltered as you met his, a nod escaping your lips as a wave of disappointment surged within you. Inwardly grappling with the sting of unspoken heartache, you found yourself clutching the hem of your cheer skirt almost desperately. Without another word, you retreated to your newly assigned seat, a sense of melancholy lingering like a shadow and bitter disappointment coating your tongue.

Even now, your gaze would involuntarily flicker to Eddie whenever you found yourself in the same room. Often, he'd be engrossed in conversations with his bandmates or his D&D group, leaving you on the outside looking in. It was a conflicting sensation, feeling his presence so near yet so far away. If only you could gather the nerve to strike up a conversation with him, but you hesitated. After all, you were the popular girl, the one who played by the rules, and good girls weren't supposed to mix with people like Eddie, no matter how much you desperately longed for it. Perhaps during math class today, you thought, you might find a plausible excuse to approach him. Maybe something as simple as asking about the homework or...

"And what the hell do you think you're staring at, Freak!?" The sudden hush that swept over the cafeteria was palpable as every head turned toward Jason, who had abandoned your table and was now striding purposefully toward the one where Eddie and his friends were seated. A chill coursed through your veins, causing your face to pale. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the unfolding drama as Eddie rose from his seat. While he appeared outwardly confident, the telltale clenching and unclenching of his hand betrayed the nervousness bubbling beneath the surface. It was clear to you that what he was displaying might just be a facade of bravado.

"Did you dribble that orange ball a few too many times, Carver?" Eddie sarcastically chimed in. His words hung in the air, an open challenge that seemed to stoke the flames of Jason's anger. In a fit of rage, Jason lunged forward, grabbing Eddie by the front of his well-worn jeans jacket. The cafeteria held its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in.

A gasp escaped your lips, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath as the dramatic confrontation unfolded before your eyes. Abruptly, you shot up from your seat, causing Chrissy to turn around in surprise. She sent you an uncertain look as you started to stride toward the two boys. It was as if you were possessed by a force stronger than yourself, you couldn’t let whatever was happening continue – you had to do something!

"Don't try to bullshit me, freak!" Jason's voice reverberated through the cafeteria, anger and scorn dripping from his words. "I saw you looking at Chrissy. You think you can just lay your eyes on her, you freak? She isn't yours; you're nothing but trailer trash! Don't you ever dare to look at her again, alright? Or I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" Jason was so close to Eddie's face that his spittle sprayed across the other boy's features. He shoved Eddie backward, and it was at that moment, as you were making your way between the mass of students that had clustered around Jason and Eddie that you felt a surge of red-hot anger like nothing you had ever felt before.

"Do I make myself clear, freak?" Jason continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Or do I need to send my boys to deal with you and your pathetic group of losers?" Eddie looked incensed, but he cowered under Jason's menacing threat.

"I...wasn't...looking," Eddie enunciated each word through gritted teeth, avoiding Jason's eyes. Jason burst into fake laughter, glancing around at the onlookers.

"Does the freak have a crush?" he taunted, his voice cruel and derisive. "That's hilarious. You honestly think you'd have a chance with Chrissy? Be realistic, freak. What is it now, twice repeating your senior year?" Eddie's face turned a deep shade of pink, shame washing over him as Jason's taunts struck at his insecurities. His shoulders sagged with each insult, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Everyone knows anyway that the only way a freak like you could ever get close to a girl is when you and your little cult of Satan practice some sacrifices," Jason continued, his words laced with venom. "I'm even surprised they let people like you in here. Everyone knows what kind of trash your dad was, it ain't surprising that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree…”

You pushed your way through the crowd, determination propelling you forward. Without a second thought, you strode purposefully toward the back of Jason. Eddie's surprised gaze locked onto you as you confidently approached them.

You extended your arm and lightly tapped Jason on the shoulder, effectively cutting off his rant mid-sentence. The abruptness of your action prompted Jason to whirl around to face you, his typically handsome features now contorted into a repulsive mask of anger. It was a stark contrast to the carefully cultivated "cool-guy" image he often projected. But deep down, you knew this enraged countenance was his true face, hidden behind the facade. In fight or flight mode, you recalled your brother Steve's advice about fighting, which you had stored away in your memory, "Sis," Steve's voice echoed in your mind, "when you throw a punch, put your entire body behind it."

And that's precisely what you did. With every ounce of your body weight, you thrust your fist forward directly into Jason's face. The cafeteria was filled with a sharp crack, echoing through the room, followed by a collective gasp from everyone present. An eerie silence descended upon the cafeteria.

Jason lay sprawled on the floor, a violent stream of blood gushing from his nose, while you clutched your hand close to your chest. Tears welled up at the corners of your eyes. No one had ever warned you that hitting someone would hurt like an absolute nightmare! It ] wasn’t like that in the movies!

Your gaze landed on Eddie, and you noticed a peculiar expression take over the young metalhead’s face – His brown gaze held something unfamiliar, a look you had never seen throughout the time you had been admiring him from afar. I was as though he were seeing you – like he was attempting to decipher the mechanics of your very being. It caught you off guard, this intensity in his stare, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

“YOU BITCH! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!” Jason roared from his sprawled position on the ground.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Eddie, you redirected it toward the fallen boy who cut a rather pathetic figure at your feet. Curling your lip in disdain, you adopted your most haughty tone and huffed, "You, Jason Carver, are the problem here!"

Jason, still sprawled on the floor with a nosebleed, glared up at you, his anger palpable, "You little—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off with a stern gesture. "Save it, Jason. You had this coming."

A stunned silence blanketed the cafeteria, every eye fixed on the unfolding confrontation. It was as if time had frozen, and the entire room held its breath in rapt attention as Hawkins' princess unleashed her verbal assault on the school's reigning king.

In that moment, you felt like you had the entire cafeteria in a chokehold, and you were determined not to let this opportunity slip away, not after what Jason had put Eddie through. Gathering your resolve, you continued, your voice dripping with disdain, "Do you honestly believe you can bully and belittle people just because they don't conform to your narrow definition of 'normal'? Well, I've had enough of your toxic attitude! You, my dear Jason, are the most insufferable idiot I've ever had the displeasure of encountering in my entire life! And I am done catering to whatever you and your dumb friends say!”

Jason struggled to get up, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Turning back to Jason, you crossed your arms and delivered your final message with authority. "Consider this a warning, Jason. Mess with Eddie or anyone else again, and you'll have me to answer to."

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Principal Higgins' thunderous voice pierced through the otherwise eerily silent cafeteria. In an instant, your confidence evaporated, leaving you feeling pale and exposed. You were caught off guard, unable to process what to do or say.

Before you could even react, a familiar, warm hand firmly grabbed yours, yanking you along as they sprinted in the opposite direction, forcefully pushing people out of the way. It was a grip you knew well, and you didn't hesitate to follow Eddie as he practically dragged you toward the exit of the cafeteria.

The scene you left behind was nothing short of chaotic. The entire school stood in a collective stupor, mouths agape in disbelief. Jason Carver, his face an alarming shade of red, appeared on the brink of an aneurysm as he struggled to regain his composure. Principal Higgins, in his authoritative fury, barked orders at the bewildered students, demanding answers and an immediate end to the commotion.

As you reached the exit and the clamor of the cafeteria began to fade, you couldn't help but let out a giggle of exhilaration. Eddie continued to lead you, now behind the school building and into the dense woods that bordered the campus. The farther you ventured into the secluded forest, the more you appreciated the sudden escape from the madness. Eventually, Eddie brought you to a worn-out picnic table, the wood weathered by years of exposure to the elements. Eddie finally managed to catch his breath. He exhaled heavily and asked, "What the hell... hfff... was that?!"

You leaned against the picnic table, still catching your own breath, and grinned at Eddie. "That, Eddie, was me finally giving Jason Carver a taste of his own medicine. That douchebag had it coming!"

Eddie let out a loud surprised laugh while still trying to catch his breath, his eyes still wide from the unexpected turn of events. "Well, I've gotta say, sweetheart, that was quite the show back there. You really let him have it, you got a mean hook princess." A warm flush of pride swept over you as you soaked in Eddie's praises. How long had you waited to hear him say something like that—to acknowledge you and gaze at you as if you were the most wonderful girl in the world? It was a feeling you had been yearning for so long, and if you were to die right now, you would die happy!

Eddie's warm, chocolate-coloured gaze landed on you, and it felt as though it softly swept over every inch of your being. He spoke, his voice filled with curiosity, "I don't think anyone was expecting Hawkins' princess to come to the defence of the 'freak.' You know they won't let you forget this, right? Why would you risk all that for little old me, Harrington?"

You let out a sigh, the weight of his inquisitive gaze pressing on you. As you closed your eyes briefly, you grappled with the emotions that had been swirling within you since the first time you had laid eyes on Eddie. A small smile crept onto your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, fixing them on the boy of your dreams. "You're worth it, Munson."

Eddie drew in a sharp breath, taking three steps closer to you. His large, warm hands, bearing tiny scars from playing the guitar, gently swept across your cheeks as he gazed intently into your eyes. "Do you mean that, Harrington? Because there's no going back if I kiss you right now—it's you and me, the princess and the 'freak.' You won’t climb back from that fall.”

You glanced at your right hand, the knuckles scraped and the skin raw, with a slight swelling on your wrist. "I think it's a little too late for that anyway," you sheepishly admitted. Eddie smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration, before gently taking your hand in his two larger ones. He slowly brought your bruised knuckles to his mouth, planting a soft kiss on each of them, causing your breath to hitch.

"Who knew that the princess of Hawkins High was Indiana’s future boxing champion," Eddie softly joked, his voice laced with affection. "I just feel bad for this pretty, soft hand – all bruised and battered to protect me, like the prettiest knight in pink armor coming to my rescue." You couldn't help but swoon at his words as Eddie continued to softly kiss your hand, his gaze slowly lifting to meet yours, his eyes filled with… Love? Tenderness? A girl could dream.

A warm smile curved across Eddie's lips, and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his in a searing kiss. As you both savored each other, Eddie's hand slowly wrapped around the base of your neck, holding you close to him. As you were trying not to faint from the sheer pleasure this moment was bringing you, a flash of remembrance rushed through you, snapping you back from your trance and causing you to break the kiss and catch your breath. You whispered softly against Eddie's lips, "What about Chrissy?"

Eddie nuzzled your face with his nose, his lips brushing lightly against your skin. "What about her?" he retorted playfully. "I mean... I thought... I thought you had a thing for her," you admitted meekly.

Eddie smirked against your cheek. "If I did, I wouldn't be kissing you right now, right?" His voice held a teasing edge as he continued to shower your neck with tender kisses.

You closed your eyes, feeling a mix of contradicting emotions – wanting to keep going to feel more of him, wishing him to stop playing with your heart because you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. "I mean it, Eddie... I don't want to be your second choice."

Eddie stopped his ministrations and returned to your face, holding your gaze with his. "You were always my first choice, Eddie," you confessed, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. "And I don't think I could handle being your backup plan."

Eddie's whispers were tender as he wiped away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. "Nononono, sweetheart. Don't cry, please," he implored softly. "You were always my first choice." His words held a reassuring sincerity that began to soothe your racing heart. But you wouldn’t be so easily swayed, as much as you loathed Jason Carver, you had witnessed first hand how Eddie seemed enraptured with Chrissy.

You huffed in disbelief, but Eddie insisted, urging you to meet his gaze. "No, it's true. Hey, look at me," he gently encouraged. "I never thought I would ever have a chance with a girl like you. You know, you're like my dream girl, right?" You gave him an uncertain look, still wrestling with your doubts. "You always stare at Chrissy, though. And you did ask me if she was still with Jason, remember?"

Eddie released your cheeks and took a step back, embarrassment tinging his cheeks as he used a piece of his shaggy hair to shield himself from you. "I wasn't looking at Chrissy. You're always with Chrissy, so I was looking at you," he admitted, his voice tinged with shyness. "And I only asked you that because I panicked. I was going to ask you out, but the guys had been teasing me for weeks, telling me I was too much of a coward to do it. I guess they were right because I chickened out."

As Eddie continued, his embarrassment grew, and he took another step back. He held the piece of hair in front of his face, as if to hide himself from you. "I've actually had a crush on you since last year," he confessed, his words shocking you.

"Are you joking?!" you blurted out, astonished.

He shook his head, his warm brown eyes holding your gaze. "Not at all, princess," he began with a soft smile. "It was last year. You were on your way back from cheer practice, and you were in a hurry, holding a huge backpack. It happened so fast that you didn't even realize a book had fallen out."

His eyes sparkled as he continued, his tone becoming more animated. "I saw it lying there, and curiosity got the best of me – I picked it up, and to my surprise, it was a copy of 'The Hobbit.’” He grinned as if sharing a secret. "I was planning to return it to you, honestly, but then, when I opened it, I saw that there was a bunch of notes in the margins." Eddie started grinning even more as he continued “All there in the margins, notes, thoughts, musings. It was like reading your mind with every turn of the page. Your insights, your emotions, your laughter, and even your frustrations were all there in the margins. I knew I had stumbled upon the most precious treasure in the universe – it was a private window into you."

Your breath hitched at his words, and as Eddie spoke, you felt a warmth spreading through you, "It felt like we were close," Eddie continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "I couldn't put the book down. It was like having a conversation with you, even when you weren't around. I realized how much we had in common, how you saw the world, and it fascinated me.”

The thought that Eddie had held onto that copy of 'The Hobbit,' with your notes and thoughts, all this time was both surprising and heartwarming. Damn, he was perfect.

"Fuck, I sound so creepy," Eddie confessed, breaking your reverie. He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.

But you weren’t creeped out, far from it. For the first time in your life, you felt completely understood by someone – inside and out. "No, Eddie," you whispered softly, your heart swelling with love. "You don't sound creepy at all. You sound... perfect." A sweet cocky grin got etched on Eddie’s lips “Perfect, eh?”

Getting overwhelmed by his stare, you tried to play it cool and diverted his question by teasingly asking, "So you’ve had a big fat crush on me for a while, right?"

Eddie chuckled, taking a step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Don't get too high and mighty, princess," he said with a warm smile, his voice laced with adoration. "From the looks of it, you've got a pretty big crush on little old me too…"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling a delightful warmth in the pit of your stomach. "I can neither confirm nor deny that," you replied in a sing-song voice, your eyes never leaving his.

Eddie's smile deepened, his gaze filled with affection. With a tender touch, he placed his hands on your waist, and before you knew it, he had spun you around. You couldn't help but let out a joyful squeak as you twirled together in a sweet, romantic dance. As he gently lowered you back to the ground, his strong arms remained securely wrapped around your back, pulling you close.

In that intimate moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you entwined in each other's embrace. Your breaths synchronized, and you lost yourselves in each other's eyes, the unspoken promise of a beautiful future passing between you.

"Hey, Eddie," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath but filled with affection and longing.

Eddie's gaze softened even more, his eyes filled with tenderness as he held you close. "Yeah, princess?"

With a radiant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your heart singing with love. "I've got a big fat crush on you too."

A soft, contented sigh escaped Eddie's lips, and he held you even tighter as if he never wanted to let you go. "Good." And without another word, he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. Nothing ever tasted sweeter.

“You gonna be alright sitting with the freaks now?” “As long as I sit with you Eddie, I could not care less.”

The fallen princess and the freak," you thought contentedly, "that has the ringing of a love story for the ages.” And all it took was that punch you threw at Jason Carver's face for you and Eddie to find your way to each other.

#eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #chrissy cunningham #jason carver

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