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idesofrevolution · 3 months

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Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

---

I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

---

So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

#male transformation #body transformation #male possession #original #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #musky #gay transformation #wrestler #ghost possession #familial transformation #father to son #himboization #himbofication #partial possession

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serasvictoria · 1 month

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Title: The Boy Is Mine (Mar’s edition)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: A romantic night in doesn’t go exactly as Eddie had planned.

Word Count: 3.312

Warnings: Established relationship. Insecure Eddie. Hurt/comfort.

Notes: Written for @carolmunson’s The Boy Is Mine Writing Challenge (you can find the rules here). Super late entry and it feels like I’ve been working on this for months, but it’s only been about two and a half weeks. Anyway. Here it is.

At least I can finally read the other entries now so that’s the rest of my weekend sorted.

Not beta-read so if you find any mistakes… those are all mine.

“I’ll take care of everything,” Eddie promised you the night before. “You can just put your feet up, or on me if you want, and I’ll obey your every command. I am but your humble servant.”

It had been one month since you had moved in together and Eddie had insisted on doing this for you since he felt that he had been difficult to live with. Naturally you had disagreed with that assessment, but he had been adamant.

Every time that you walked into the bathroom and he had left the toilet seat up, he would apologize like it was the worst thing in the world. It didn’t matter that you kept telling him that you didn’t mind and that it was no trouble at all, he’d still apologize and dart around you to right the wrong.

Same thing happened when you found the odd sock in a place that wasn’t the laundry basket. Or when Eddie hadn’t used a coaster.

Ridiculous and tiny things that were easily overlooked and ignored. Nothing that would be able to ruin your day so you never called him out on these things, because you genuinely didn’t mind. It didn’t stop him from insisting that he was an awful boyfriend and promising to do better though.

Sure, living with Eddie provided some challenges, which was more down to this still being very new to both of you, but nowhere near as many as he himself seemed to think.

For now, you were eager to find out what he had in store for you. Eddie had been incredibly secretive about it and had offered up no clues whatsoever. The only things that he had said were that it was going to be cheesily romantic and that he would surprise you.

You had been looking forward to it the entire day and were positively buzzing as you parked your car next to his van. Work had been hectic this past week and you had been fast asleep at around eight every single evening.

Thankfully today had been relatively quiet so you had been able to leave early. Maybe you should have called to let him know, but you had completely forgotten in your excitement.

When you got out of the car, you could already hear Eddie swearing inside the trailer. The volume only increased the closer that you got and you could only silently apologize to your poor neighbors.

It made you giggle to hear him swear like a docker on the other side of the door. You could only guess as to why it was, but still tried to keep your face as passive as possible when you finally opened the door to see what lay within.

Nothing could prepare you for what was on the other side however.

The kitchen looked like a bomb had exploded in it and Eddie was standing right in the middle of the chaos with a pink flowery apron that had once belonged to your grandmother over his usual black outfit. It looked both ridiculous and endearing.

There were eggshells on the counter and the contents of said eggs were dripping down it. There were white footprints on the floor, because your boyfriend must have stepped in what you assumed (and hoped) was flour. And then there were the white globs of something that looked like frosting that were everywhere, including in his hair.

“Eddie?” Upon hearing your voice, he turned around with a horrified expression on his face since you had caught him in the act. The spoon that was in his hand clattered to the floor loudly. Whatever was on it spattered onto the floor and also left debris on his socks and his jeans. You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Oh fuck.” Eddie rubbed his hands on the apron, leaving white smudges in its wake. “I thought I had another hour at least.”

Very calmly, you took off your shoes and hung your coat and bag on a peg near the door before walking closer to survey the mess that your boyfriend had made. Somehow it was even worse up close and that was saying something.

There was a mixing bowl on the counter, which seemed to be the source of the mess, with a hand mixer next to it. You could picture him using the highest setting only to have the contents end up all over the place.

“I got to hand it to you, I’m definitely surprised,” you eventually managed to get out whilst desperately trying to suppress your giggles.

“But not exactly in the right way,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “In my head, you would come home after I cleaned everything, with the table set all fancy, so many lit candles that it would be a fire hazard and with some sappy record playing.”

“That does sound nice.” There were paper molds with batter in them right behind Eddie, which he was unsuccessfully trying to block from view. “Shame that I got home a bit earlier.”

“You could always leave and pretend that you’ve never seen this.” That’s what finally makes you laugh and since you had been holding back for a while, it didn’t take long for your eyes to well up with happy tears. It made him crack a smile, too. “Which you’re obviously not going to do.”

“Course not,” you replied as you wiped your eyes. “And honestly, as much as I appreciate this,” you gestured around the messy kitchen and then at Eddie himself, “you need to take a shower.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna-“

“No,” you interjected simply and when it looked like Eddie was going to argue, you simply pressed your pointer finger on his lips to ensure that he kept silent. “No.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled against your finger. “This was supposed to be about you.”

“And I love it.” You pressed a kiss to his frosting stained cheek and could taste the vanilla. When you pulled away, his thumb wiped over your lips to clear the residue that was stuck to it away before sticking it into his mouth. “But I also like you clean and you are, and I’m sorry for saying this, a mess right now.”

“Thought you liked that,” he retorted with an accompanying wiggle of his eyebrows.

“I do yeah, but not when you’re covered in raw eggs, flour, cake batter and frosting.”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” he sighed deeply as he held his hands up to indicate that he was going to let it go. For now. “But I could always leave some of the edible bits on so you could lick them off later though,” he added with a wide and naughty grin.

“Absolutely not.” You pushed him out of the kitchen and in the direction of the bathroom. “If you want me to eat stuff off you, buy some Cool Whip.”

“Kinky!” Eddie laughed when your hand came down on his ass to give it a firm squeeze before he rounded the corner. “I’m not forgetting about that by the way,” he called out before closing the door behind him.

“Didn’t think you would,” you answered.

Part of you already knew that he’d run out to buy some the next morning and that at one point during the day you would end up finding him in the bedroom with the stuff lathered all over himself. You made a mental note to remember to put either a towel or a box of tissues in the bedroom tomorrow just in case, because you had a feeling that things could get messy.

But that was a problem for later. You had to deal with something else right now.

The kitchen was such a mess that you barely even knew where to begin, but the first thing that your eye fell on was a small notebook, one that Eddie always had on him, folded open to a page with a recipe that was written in handwriting that was much nicer than Eddie’s was, not to mention legible.

Chocolate cupcakes with vanilla buttercream frosting.

His little notebook was a closely guarded secret, something that your mortal eyes would not be able to comprehend (his words right before he had shielded it from you by holding a throw pillow in front of it). He used it to jot down notes for D&D campaigns, ideas that he got for lyrics, or whatever else that came to mind that he judged important enough to write down, so the fact that he used it for a recipe that he had procured for you was pretty meaningful.

This was quite possibly the sweetest thing that he had ever done, going through all this trouble for you by doing something that was completely alien to him, since he didn’t think that he was much of a cook. It wasn’t that he didn’t do it, it’s just that his repertoire seemed to be limited to heating up canned foods.

Lost in thought, you had barely even scratched the surface in concerns of the mess that Eddie had made, only managing to put several things in the sink and getting rid of the eggshells, when he reappeared again in a pair of black sweatpants with an old Iron Maiden shirt. If it wasn't for his wet hair, which was soaking the fabric of his shirt, you might have been inclined to think that he hadn’t washed himself at all.

“Did you just stick your head under the tap?”

“No. I took a shower, just like you asked.” He stepped in close enough so that you could smell the soap on his skin. “I just didn’t want you to clean my mess.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You always say that,” he groaned with obvious frustration. “Just let me do it.”

“We can do it together.” You held out a wet cloth to him, which he was eying reluctantly, simply because he felt that you weren’t supposed to help clean up the mess that he had made. “Is that a good compromise?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ for emphasis. “I insist.”

“So I basically have no choice.”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, whatever.” Seeing that he had lost the discussion, he admitted defeat and finally took the cloth from your hands. “Help me clean then.”

Cleaning together was a lot faster than if he had gone at it alone and before you knew it, all the surfaces were wiped clean, the dishes had been done and were drying in the dish rack, and most importantly of all, the cupcakes were finally in the oven.

“See? That didn’t take too long, now did it?”

“You weren’t supposed to help though.”

That much was kind of made clear to you while the two of you were cleaning. There were little looks that Eddie threw in your direction, whenever he seemed to think that you weren’t looking, that seemed to indicate that he was less than pleased with your help. His expressions were also somewhat… pained at times? It didn’t make a lot of sense and only made you think about why he was even acting like this to begin with.

“I genuinely don’t mind. I wasn’t going to sit and watch you clean, you know that.” You took his hand, pulled him along in the direction of the couch and gestured at him to sit. “Now. What’s this about anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie immediately started fidgeting, even more so than usual, and his leg started bouncing anxiously. “I was trying to do something nice for you.”

Something was obviously bothering him. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate that he had done all this, because you really really did but there was a reason behind this and you’d keep picking at him all night if you had to.

“Excellent deflecting. I’ll get it out of you somehow,” you replied with certainty.

Leaving him on the couch, you stepped back into the kitchen to check the oven and to get something to drink. Eddie had even splurged on the soda by buying something that wasn’t store brand and therefore cheaper. It was amazing how he had managed to plan all of this without giving anything away.

“We appear to have run out of nice cups.” Instead you held up a red plastic cup that you found earlier in one of the cupboards. “So is this okay?”

“We don’t have any nice cups,” he replied without missing a beat.

“How dare you,” you clutched at your chest, pretending to be aghast at his statement. “That Star Wars cup is the best thing that we own.”

“Oh yeah, of course it is.” He rolled his eyes when you mentioned your favorite cup. You were always waving it in his face whenever you needed a quick laugh. “You’re just saying that because you have a thing for Han Solo.”

“You’re just jealous that they didn’t have one with Leia on it.” You handed him his drink and settled in next to him on the couch. Nudging your shoulder into him, you asked, “Now, tell me, why did you do all this?”

“Is it a crime to want to do something nice for you?”

“No, of course it’s n-”

“So why are you interrogating me?”

“Because I know you.”

Eddie avoided your gaze and ran a hand down his face, because of course you’d be able to tell. He knew that he should have thought up some convincing excuse beforehand, but it was too late for that now and the chances that he’d successfully make up something on the fly were practically nonexistent.

Silence fell and for a second there, you thought that he wouldn’t tell you at all, that he would end up brushing it off, as if he was embarrassed to tell you the real reason, which was simply ridiculous. So what was it?

“I wanted to impress you,” he finally admitted softly and pulled you out of your train of thought. “Just once.”

His confession bewildered you and you genuinely didn’t know what to say. You had no idea that he had even felt this way, but you obviously needed to mend this situation since your actions seemed to have inadvertently caused this.

You liked taking care of Eddie, perhaps a little bit too much, and it seemed to have caused him to think that you didn’t need his help at all, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“Eddie, that’s not- hey, look at me.” You cupped his face with your hands until his sad eyes, which were usually filled with so much warmth, finally focused back on you. “I’m already impressed.”

“You’re always looking after me, but I don’t do much,” he sighed dejectedly. “And I’m like the worst cook ever.”

"Aw, don't be like that. That’s not even true," you declared. “Your cooking is fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

“No one can make SpaghettiOs better than you can.”

“Ha, ha.” He tried to sound annoyed, but missed the mark completely when he (accidentally) laughed in earnest. It made him clear his throat in a very poor attempt to hide it. “Very funny.”

“Still made you laugh.” You poked a finger into one of his dimples until he jerked his head away with an even bigger grin than before. “I always like it when you make me breakfast.”

“That’s nothing special,” he shrugged. “Just buttered toast and fruit juice.”

“So? I like it just fine.” Seeing him act so dejectedly over feeling inadequate was breaking your heart and you felt like an idiot for never noticing it before. “Just take the compliment, please. You do enough. Trust me.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You want me to give examples? Okay, how about when my car broke down and you dropped everything to come pick me up.” It was the first example that came to mind and you could see a spark of amusement in his eyes when you reminded him. “Dustin wouldn’t talk to me for about a week because I ruined your D&D night.”

“The little shit only forgave you when I threatened to kill off his bard,” he laughed. “As if I was going to leave my girl at some seedy gas station in the middle of the night.”

“It was nine, still light out, and mister Jenkins was fine with me hanging out with him until the tow truck showed up.”

“Of course he was fine with it. Have you seen you?” His hand came down on your thigh, giving you a soft squeeze, since the sheer memory of that night ignited a spark of possessiveness inside him. “I don’t trust him.”

“The man’s at least seventy, Eddie!”

“So?” He said very matter of factly, as if it made perfect sense for Eddie to act so territorial around someone that posed no threat whatsoever. “He’s still a guy and I didn’t like how he was looking at you when I got there.”

“Oh yeah? You’d beat up an old man to defend my honor?”

“Babe, I would beat anyone up to defend your honor.”

“And that’s how you take care of me,” you replied resolutely, because he had just proven your point. “You’d take on the whole world for me.”

“I have to. You’re my girl.” Hearing those words were enough to make your heart swell about three sizes in your chest and you managed to catch him off guard when you pressed your lips against his for a quick kiss. “What was that for?”

“For being you,” you sighed contentedly as you rested your head against his shoulder. “That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too.” He put his arm around you and attempted to pull you even closer into his side. “Let me try this again. How about a romantic evening with me, your loving boyfriend, while I fully intend to feed you the cupcakes that I made all by myself, and maybe then we can watch a movie?”

“What movie?”

He pressed his lips into your hairline, suddenly embarrassed, and mumbled, “A Room with a View.”

“Really?” It made you pull away from him, wide eyed and excited, so you could see his face and found that he was dead serious. “You didn’t!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“I did,” he confirmed. “You should have seen Harrington’s face.”

“It’s not really your kind of movie.” Eddie’s taste in movies was fairly unique to put it mildly. He had a penchant for loving the ones that were unbelievably bad. “You must have really shocked him for not renting something shittier.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Hard Rock Zombies.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned when you remembered that particular movie. “Or Slumber Party Massacre, which you called an ‘underrated classic’ if I recall correctly?”

“It is! My tastes are just too high end for you and I accepted that shortcoming in you years ago-“

“Hey!”

“Let me finish.” It was his turn to place his index finger over your lips to ensure your silence this time around. “So yeah, I could have rented one of those masterpieces, but I didn’t because this is your night and this one came highly recommended by Robin. So, babe, would you do me the honor of watching this movie with me?”

“I would love to.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a self satisfied smile. “So just sit here and look pretty while I get everything ready, okay?”

“I shall eagerly await your return.” Eddie took your hand, kissed the back of it and let it slip from his grasp as he went back to the kitchen. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he corrected. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t,” you confirmed.

And you wouldn’t. He was your guy after all.

#the boy is mine #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #mar writes

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javispunk · 10 months

Note

Love your workkk!!!!!

Soo I have a request…

Soo established relationships where the reader as a joke mockingly says something like about our old man Joel’s stamina or something 😭 and then ofc joel gives her a lesson whole night with all the filth 😛😭😭 (also can reader be like skinny framed small chested female) 💜

Thank you so much!! It means a lot! Hope you like it :)

Old Man

Summary: You usually joke about Joel's age, not only between the two of you, but also around other people. Either because he walks or runs slower than you, or just because he gets tired easily. He never complained about it - in fact, you thought he found it endearing. But you were so wrong, and he made sure he'd let you know when you got home safe.

Pairing: Joel x fem!reader, established relationship.

Content/Warnings: NSFW, smut (absolute filth), 18+ (minors DNI), age difference implied, fingering, giving oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (use protection kids), spitting.

Notes: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistake. Please feel free to leave any requests you'd like me to write. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!

The walk through the forest on your way to Bill and Frank's house was calmer than you'd expected. With your hand in Joel's you didn't find a single clicker and you managed to relax a bit, walking slowly but not so slow in order to reach the village before lunch. Frank made sure to tell Joel that we'd be received with a proper meal, something you haven't had in a long time. So that was exciting. You didn't know them yet, but Joel made sure to let you know they were decent guys.

The place was mined with traps for clickers and you could see surveillance cameras everywhere. These guys knew what they were doing. Once you saw the gate opening and an unknown man greet you from afar, you out of instinct positioned yourself behind Joel. His broad shoulders completely hiding your small figure. You were scared, and that was understandable.

"You're alright, sweetheart." Joel assured you, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it for a second.

His words put you at ease, as you saw the man approach both of you. He shook Joel's hand with familiarity, looking at you after. The fact Joel trusted them was enough for you to do the same.

"Who's this beauty?" you heard him ask, extending his hand to shake yours.

You smiled. "None of that, please." You spoke before telling him your name. "Thank you for having us here."

"Our absolute pleasure. I'm Frank." he shot a smile at you again, before gesturing to the entry of the house. "And that's Bill over there." You looked at the man from a distance, just to notice a rifle on his hand. Frank noticed your expression. "Don't worry about him."

You smiled once again at Frank out of courtesy, but sneakily grabbed Joel's hand behind his back in worry.

"Let's sit! Lunch is almost ready." Frank gestured to the table set up on their front yard, and guided you both to his house with an extended arm.

***

"This is delicious!" You exclaimed.

"Bill made it." Frank pointed out.

"It's great, thank you so much." You kept speaking after putting down your glass on the table. You looked at Bill with an attentive eye.

"It's nothing much. Just meat that I hunted and some roasted vegetables from the garden." He kept his voice low and expression serious.

"Thank you, Bill." You heard Joel's voice from across the table in front of you.

"I'm sorry but I'm dying to know." You heard Frank at your right, as his body rapidly turned in your direction. "How did you meet this guy?" He gestured to Joel.

You looked at him and laughed. "Well, I had been alone for a while, and I was perfectly fine on my own." You made sure to look at him, mockingly. "But Joel found me in a time of need. He helped me without asking nothing in return. So I trusted him my life, and now we're here."

Frank smiled through the whole speech. "You must be the first, you know."

You shot him a confused look. "The first?"

He shook his head in approval. "The first to melt that old stone heart of his."

"Is it that noticeable?" You admitted.

"Please!" He exclaimed with a grin. "I've never seen him hug anyone, let alone kiss someone's hand that dearly."

You felt yourself blush slighty, before looking at Joel. He laughed, while telling Frank to cut it out.

"No worries, we're all lovers here." He placed his fork down on his plate. "How are you guys holding up?" He spoke now to Joel.

"We're making it alright. Walking from dawn to dawn is a bit tiring but we manage."

"Our old man here thinks he can handle that like a 20 year old. I notice his stamina's hanging on by a thread, always tired and irritable." You spoke while looking Frank in the eye. "It's like living with a 60 year old man." Just after, you turned to Joel, who was chewing his food slowly, fork in his right hand unattended, and turned his gaze from your glass to your eyes. His stare was somewhat still and serious. You analised his expression with confusion and mouthed a "what?" that only him could hear or see. He stared at you the same way before slightly grinning at you, dragging his eyes now to his plate, smile still plastered on his face while he brought food to his mouth. You continued looking at him until Frank spoke.

"I'm sure there's a car around here you could have." He wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin. "There's batteries in the houseshed. Take one and it's yours." I saw Bill shoot his partner a hard serious look, apprehensive.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bill insisted.

"Of course." He shot back at him. "There's also gas in there. Take some gallons."

"That's really not necessary, Frank." Joel spoke.

"Oh it is. I don't take her for a liar, you on the other hand, I've seen you lie for far less. I also know you're a stubborn old gentleman." He placed the napkin on his lap. "So please, take it. Use it. There's no point in it being there."

You looked at Bill for approval. He just continued eating with furrowed brows.

"Thank you." You spoke.

"No need. I'll go grab dessert." You saw Frank leave his seat and enter the house.

***

Joel had been awfully quiet since lunch, even when Frank showed us around all the shops who were still in need of renovation. Not even his contractor heart gave in a little bit. His mind seemed to be somewhere else.

"We don't know how to thank you both, honestly." You spoke as Bill and Frank helped you put your things in the trunk of your new car. It was getting dark already.

Frank repeated himself again, saying it was his pleasure.

Once Joel thanked the men for the hundreth time, he got in the car after opening the door for you. The journey was quiet for most part, until you spoke softly.

"Are you okay? You haven't spoken a lot."

He turned his eyes at you for a second, before connecting his gaze to the road again. "Just tired."

Your hand rested on his tigh, a familiar gesture you'd gained in the past few months. You thought nothing of his behaviour, you were both exhausted from the walk through the forest and the day filled with activities Bill and Frank made sure to provide you.

The ride went quickly, faster than you'd think it would. You filled it with quick pecks on Joel's right cheek, in order to 'wake him up' a bit. His hand travelled to the inside of your tigh, squeezing every once in a while. All was quiet.

As soon as you parked, you got out of the car in order to pick up both your stuff, as Joel would eventually carry all the weapons. When you returned you saw him carrying your stuff inside the house.

You spoke as you entered the house first, Joel following behind you. "I'm so fucking tired." You stretched your arms in the air before hearing a thud. All your weapons on the floor as Joel dropped them. Arms still in the air, you felt Joel's arms grab the middle of your body, folding you in half over his shoulder.

"Joel!" You screamed as he lifted you up in the air, adjusting you on his body. "What are you doing?"

He carried you in silence. This must be a joke, you thought. He's just being playful. He'll put you down soon enough, if you ask him to. You recognized the turns he took. After passing the kitchen right up front, passing through the main hall, up the stairs. Bedroom.

He didn't even bother to close the door. "Joel." You repeated, trying to catch his attention.

He dropped you in the middle of the bed with a throw. "Yes?" He aknowledged you as he started to unbuckle his belt, looking at your figure, legs bent, feet next to your tighs. His eyes were dark, his expression solemn. You moved up the bed on your back, as you watched him take his shirt off over his head and quickly discarting his pants. He paused for a second, looking at you, half clothed.

"Take your clothes off."

You quickly took your pants off, still looking him in the eye, overwhelmed by his demanding voice. "You take the rest." You replied.

He rapidly got closer to you, but you extended one of your naked legs, touching his chest, creating a gap between you both, trying to get his attention. "What is this?"

With more force than usual, Joel grabbed your leg and separated both of them, one to each side, hovering his body over yours, applying pressure on your chest. Your mouths were connected in an instant. His tongue not even asking permission to touch yours. His right hand went between your legs, slid your panties to the side and felt your wet core on his fingers, until quickly finding your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, Joel." You breathed slowly on his ear.

"How are you so wet already?" He asked as he inserted two fingers inside you at once.

"Oh, fuck-" You moaned beneath him.

You heard him grunt as a response. His fingers pumping in and out of you rythmically, hitting your favourite spot every now and then, making you sigh every single time. Joel disconnected his lips from yours, only to travel down your body, and end up on your core. He wasted no time, immediately kissing your clit, while pulling his fingers in and out of you faster. Your hands flew to his head, grabbing and pulling on his silver strands of hair, which only made him respond in a gutural moan. The vibrations of his mouth sending you into a frenzy, giving you chills.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You were losing your fucking mind, begging him to take you right there and then.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” You heard him between your legs. “I’m not done with you down here.” He continued his rhythmic motions.

Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head as he hit the right spot with every pump. “I’m not gonna last longer.” You tried to spit words out of your mouth the best you could.

“Cum on my mouth, gorgeous.” He said before fastening his pace. It took you just a few seconds to arch your back in pleasure, grabbing his hair between your fingers and pulling viciously. With your eyes closed, you felt him remove his fingers from you, which left you with a sense of void. His body above yours again.

“Open wide.” He demanded.

You did as he told. He spat inside your mouth. You receiving it with contentment. You looked him in the eye while you swallowed his spit mixed with your own fluids.

“Shit, look at you.” His lips attacked yours. “So fucking pretty like this.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You teased him.

“In a minute, sweet girl.” You saw him take his boxers off, throw them to the bedroom floor. He lifted your t-shirt over your head, removing it and made way to your breasts with his mouth, sucking on your nipples, biting them.

Just by looking at you, and without warning, Joel fully pushed himself inside you, letting you feel every inch of him stretch you beyond measure.

You couldn’t say a word, just animalistic noises came out of your mouth. Joel loved them so much he continued adjusting your pussy around his cock, feeling you clench every few seconds.

“Fuck Joel, stop teasing. Go faster.” You pleaded.

His voice next to your ear. “You’ve been teasing me all day, calling me old man. Telling people I haven’t got stamina.” It clicked in your mind. You always called him that dearly. You heard one more grunt from him as he thrust into you deeply. “Who’s been fucking you all this time?”

Your mouth falling open as the knot in your stomach build after a few faster thrusts, your head banging on the headboard.

“Who makes your eyes roll like that?” You heard him, head thrown back in the pillow. “Who makes you this fucking wet, hum?” You heard the wet noises you two made after he picked up his pace.

“You do, Joel.” You managed to spit out.

“Who makes you cum every single fucking night?”

Tears fell down your eyes, as you cried to reach your orgasm. “You do.”

“My sweet girl.” He continued, while wiping your tears for a second. “You’re gonna take me in your mouth, is that okay?”

“Yes.” Your answer to his question mixed with your cries as your orgasm sets free. Your moans echo all over the room, you can’t help it. Still enjoying your high, you feel Joel’s warm spur hitting your face, some entering your mouth, some spilling all over your cheeks and neck. You did the best you could to catch it all in. You opened your eyes to Joel with his cock in his hand, still rock hard.

“What a fucking sight.” He continued pumping his length. You swallowed his cum, until there was nothing to come out anymore. “God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You grabbed him by his neck, forcing him to glue his mouth to yours, letting him taste himself from your tongue for a minute.

Panting, sweaty and with disheveled hair, you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t ever tease me like that again.” You demanded.

“You want it.” He paused, a proud cocky smile on his face. “Don’t ever call me an old man again.”

“You love it.”

You felt his arm wrap around your torso and pull you on top of him, sitting you up on his lap, just before lifting you up to the bathroom for a shower. The air contaminated with condensation and your laughter.

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ─ 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟖𝟔

(young parents!eddie munson x reader)

more dad!eddie and pennyverse entries can be found on my masterlist

summary: After taking a pregnancy home test for funsies, you find out that you’re actually pregnant. The scariest part isn’t even the completely unexpected pregnancy, it’s telling Eddie.

warnings: use of an 80s pregnancy test, pregnancy (obvs), mention of periods, not much else.

a/n: based on this request and also based in the pennyverse (see masterlist). i usually always use up my friends’ extra pregnancy tests when they take them, so I’ve developed an irrational fear of this happening to me after writing it out lol. and i still can’t use the keep reading tab bc tumblr eats sections of my fics that i try to use it on so sorry about that and sorry about the formatting, tumblr also refuses to post this if I remove so much as a space. enjoy! let me know what you think (don’t be a dick)! 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were sat inside of the tub—void of any water—and had been for the past hour and a half. It was anything but comfortable. You weren’t paying attention to the ache in your back though, too focused on the vial you held between you fingers, rolling it between your middle and thumb finger while you were careful to avoid spilling the liquid it contained.

How you hadn’t thrown it out of your bedroom window yet, you had no clue. After all, it did kind of betray you. Nancy had a scare with Jonathan about two days prior and you’d gone with her to the pharmacy to pick up a couple of tests, held her hand as she panicked about how she couldn’t put off school to raise a baby but the liquid in her vial remained clear, and so did the next one she tried. While she’d been significantly relieved at the negative results, she couldn’t risk her mom finding the tests so you’d taken the remainder of them (she’d purchased six in total, talk about overdoing it) with the intentions of throwing them out. Then your stupid curiosity got the best of you. You blamed it on how interesting the actual test looked. While you had hated chemistry class, messing with actual liquids, chemicals, vials, and bunsen burners during the labs had greatly amused you.

The pregnancy test looked much too similar to a couple of those components, so you couldn’t resist. You’d peed in the tray, mixed it in with the clear liquid you’d poured into the provided vial, waited a couple of minutes for everything to combine and settle in there, then you placed a drop of the solution into the mixture. The result was unfortunately instant. You’d been fully expecting the same result as Nancy while you prepared the test but to your complete and utter surprise, the liquid in your vial turned a dark shade of blue. And so did the next one, and the one after that, and the last one. You were glad you’d chosen to do this at your parents’ house, you hadn’t wanted Eddie to get the wrong idea and your parents’ still had a room for you but you were interested in the ensuite bathroom connected to it—or else Eddie would have stumbled upon you passed out in the trailer.

You’d settled into the bathtub when it felt like your legs were going to give in as reality shifted around you. What the FUCK? You hadn’t even missed your periods! Sure, they never really came on time but that was because they’d always been irregular ever since Aunt Flo’s first visit! They’d been pretty light and brief, but that still had to count for something right? You groaned as you sunk further down in the tub, recalling all the times you and Eddie had neglected to use protection. You’d been on the pill since before you two even got together (that’s a different story, though) and sure, he occasionally wore a condom but that accounted for only about 15% of the times you had sex. The rest of the times, you’d simply put your faith in your little blue pill. How ironic was it that your birth control was the same color as the positive pregnancy result? Maybe you could laugh about it in the future, but for now, you were panicking about what to do next. You’d only been out of school for about five months, having graduated alongside the majority of your friends and your now-husband in June, and you hadn’t enrolled in a college because—well, you had no idea what you wanted to study or even if you wanted to study anything, so you’d chosen a job instead, which meant school wouldn’t be a problem for you. But telling your husband would be. You’d gotten married the same night of graduation, moved in (officially) with him and Wayne about a week later and you’d been in the honeymoon phase since. Wayne had started sleeping over a couple of trailer’s down at Maude Maple’s—you couldn’t blame him, Eddie wasn’t exactly quiet when you fucked—she was conveniently all alone after her son went away for college in the early fall and had taken quite the liking to her faithful neighbor who never failed to come to her rescue when some appliance of her’s ‘broke down’, meaning you and Eddie had the whole trailer to yourself the majority of the time. That’s probably how you ended up in this situation.

You’d have to tell Eddie. You shot up in the tub, gripping the side with your freehand as a wave of nausea turned in your stomach and you were pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with pregnancy symptoms. What would he do? What would he say? Would he leave you? Did he even want a baby right now? Of course not, he had ambitions and a baby would halt those! Yes, you talked about having kids before, but it was always future plans. This was happening right now.

You stood up, climbing out of the tub before you capped the vial. You hid it in one of the pockets lining your bag before you quickly got rid of the rest of the evidence, flushing other positive tests and loading your purse with all the trash to discard in a bin somewhere far from your parents’ house and the trailer, where no one could tie it back to you. Wait a minute, you thought as you clutched your bag to your chest. Pregnancy tests give false positives all the time! Maybe I just got a bad batch. Yeah, that’s it! I’ll just go to my doctor, and have this all blown over. You hadn’t experienced any symptoms (that couldn’t be blamed on PMS) and you didn’t feel any different, so could you really be pregnant? —

You were pregnant.

Not only had your doctor confirmed it, but she’d also informed you that you were about 22 weeks along. Even if you had wanted to get an abortion (which you hadn’t really considered seeing as how you had no idea you were pregnant until that morning), you wouldn’t be able to unless you had a serious medical condition. You’d tried to somehow argue your way out of her diagnosis, or whatever it was, by pointing out that your stomach was still normal, no major change to it as in no abnormally protruding baby bump but she’d informed you that your baby was most likely just nestled in there and, while it was rare, sometimes people didn’t show until late in their pregnancy. Then she’d weighed you and you were indeed a couple of pounds over, compared to what you could remember weighing last. And your periods? She chalked that up to hormone changes after she asked if you’d been experiencing any extreme changes in mood and you’d been able to recall the random bouts of frustration, irritation, sudden sadness, and yeah, that made sense. She’d said it’d most likely stop once you started relaxing.

If that hadn’t been proof enough for you, the figure on your sonogram was, along with the heartbeat you’d heard during the brief ultrasound. That had to have been the scariest part; you’d been expecting to see a tiny little blob—your fetus at an early stage—but your fetus was far enough developed to resemble a freaking baby and you just couldn’t wrap your head around actually being pregnant, a baby was inside of you at that very moment. Thinking about it made your brain produce no thoughts, just white noise.

You didn’t go home to Eddie that night, choosing to return back to your parents’ where you faked coming down with something and your mother insisted—like you knew she would—that you stay the night. You took dinner in your room, had your mom tell Eddie you weren’t feeling good and were sleeping it off—not a total lie—when he inevitably called. It was pretty shitty of you but you didn’t know what else to do and hiding out at your childhood home was your only way of avoiding your husband.

You hadn’t been able to sleep. Not with what you now knew. Almost hesitantly, you unbuttoned the shirt of your ridiculous, Winnie the Pooh pajamas and rested your palm just below your belly button, trying to feel any movement from the baby growing there.

While you couldn’t feel anything on the outside, your mind wandered to last week, when you’d been laying on your tummy and felt an odd sensation that you attributed to a silent stomach rumble—though it didn’t feel much like your stomach—, your body just letting you know you were hungry. It had happened a couple more times—all of which you’d been stomach down—and now you were sure it had been the baby inside of you, maybe protesting about being squished. You certainly wouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach anymore, now that you were aware of the new resident in your womb.

It didn’t even surprise you that you were starting to think of ways to go about making sure your baby was okay in there; while you were scared shitless as most unexpected first time moms-to-be are, there was part of you that wanted to know more about that little human growing inside of you. Would they look more like Eddie or more like you? Would they have his pretty, baby cow eyes or would they have yours? And what about the hair, would it be more like yours or more like his messy curls? Then you warmed, because you had a part of him literally inside of you; you were carrying his baby. While the news of your pregnancy had been daunting to say the least, you were finding that you didn’t completely fear the idea of it. No, what you feared was Eddie’s reaction.

You were thinking of ways you could somehow avoid him, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to for long. You weren’t showing yet but you would be, probably sooner rather than later. If, for some reason, he didn’t notice—someone else would and word would get back to him.

Frustrated with your predicament, you grabbed one of your throw pillows from next to you and held it over your face to muffle your screams. The sound of knuckles rapping against your window interrupted you and you froze, blood running cold. There was only one person it could be, and it was the very person you didn’t want to actively see at the moment.

You were positive he could see you, though, and you didn’t want him to think you were trying to smother yourself to death so you reluctantly set the pillow back in it’s place at your side and got up to confront your fears, if not for you then for the little one inside you. Eddie was grinning as you approached your window, pulling it open before stepping back so he could climb in.

“Hey, Thumper,” he greeted as he righted himself, stretching his arms up after he’d kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off. Once he was standing at full height, he leaned back against the window frame, pretty doe eyes taking you in from head to toe, “How you feelin’? You okay, baby?”

“I’m all right, Bambi,” you lied, willing your body to relax. “My head hurts, that’s all.”

Eddie eyed you skeptically before he closed the distance between you two, hands moving up to cradle your face as he leaned in for a kiss. Like butter, you melted; eyes fluttering shut as your body fully relaxed and your mind went all fuzzy. You’d been married for six months now and you were beginning to realize the effect he had on you would never go away. Unless he did. Your anxiety came rushing right back and you pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“What are you doing here?” You rushed to ask, taking note of the concern written on his face as he stared down at you. “I was worrying myself sick about you. I knew you weren’t feeling good, plus I can’t sleep without you, so if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad. . .”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, posture stiff and awkward as you stared back up at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t meant to say it, it kind of just came out on its own but now that it was out there, there was no taking it back.

You studied his face, your heartbeat pounding against your chest with the suspense as you watched his eyebrow quirk up, his pink lips parting slightly in surprise.

Eddie swallowed hard once, mouth continuing to open and close like he was a fish instead of a human, “I’m sorry—what?”

He opened the flood gates again, you couldn’t contain the word vomit, you just kept talking, “I’m pregnant. Like, I am really pregnant, man. I only literally just found out and I was thinking maybe the home tests were bad—all four of them—but they were not because I went to the doctor since I couldn’t believe it ‘cause I didn’t know I was pregnant but she said I was and then I saw it for myself and now I am actively aware of the baby inside me like some sort of chest hugger—except it’s in my womb and I’m gonna have to give birth and I am really freaking the fuck out because I don’t know what we’re gonna do since we didn’t exactly talk about having a baby right away and I know you had plans and this is kind of getting in the way of them and that’s what I didn’t want because I want you to do everything you love and I wanna be by your side while you do it and I’m not gonna lie, I actually wouldn’t mind having this baby since it’s me and you but I don’t want you to leave me over this—“

You were silenced when Eddie gently placed his palm over your mouth, effectively stopping your verbal onslaught and keeping you from working yourself into a panic attack.

“Hey, hey—hey, you gotta calm down, honey. You’re upsetting yourself,” his hand slid from over your mouth to the back of your neck, rubbing at the tense muscles there. “Breathe for me, baby.”

You knew he was right, you were practically shaking in your fuzzy socks. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm your breathing while Eddie mumbled encouraging words, pressing kisses to your forehead until you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on yourself. Eddie would hold the rest of you together, like he always did. You wrapped your arms around his middle, snuggling into his chest.

Eddie indulged you, soothing you with cuddles before he pulled back just enough to look at you, while he had managed to calm you down, you could still see the surprise in his dark gaze as he whispered, “You-You’re pregnant?”

You feared your mouth would run free again, so you remained silent, nodding a couple of times as you nibbled on your lower lip, waiting for Eddie to lose it, to blow a gasket. Seeing you this upset pained Eddie. He could see the fear in your glossy eyes, the quiver in your plump lower lip as you stared up at him, waiting for his response. He tried not to take it personal, knew where your insecurities lied and how much you valued him over yourself. If there was one thing Eddie wished he could change, it’d be the way you saw yourself. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes; you were absolutely perfect to and for him. He couldn’t imagine life without you and he didn’t ever want to, so the notion that he would even consider leaving you was blasphemy. He wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant. Had this happened in high school or something, he might have freaked out a little but he still wouldn’t have ever considered leaving you.

Now, it just seemed like the opportune time for this exact scenario. You were already married, so people couldn’t say Baby Munson was a bastard and kids came next after marriage, right? It didn’t matter when you two had them—to him, at least. He knew he’d be a good dad, he wouldn’t be anything like his. Not the bad parts of him. And Eddie knew you’d be an amazing mother, had seen you handle the kid part of your friend group plenty of times.

When he said your name, so tenderly, it made you want to cry, and a tear did slip down your cheek but Eddie was quick to halt it, wiping it away with his thumb, “Listen to me, ‘kay? I’m uh—I’m definitely a little shocked, but there isn’t even a small percentage of me that doesn’t want to have a mini you running around. And my plans? Baby, you are my plans. From the moment I hung out with you in the back of my van at that shitty party, I knew I needed you in my life. Now, you are my life. The only plans I have, are to live happily ever after—and all that gooey, sappy shit I’ll never publicly admit to loving—with you. Everything else that happens is filler stuff, okay? You—and you,” he reached a hand down to rest again the skin of your stomach, rings cool against your flesh, still exposed as your shirt had remained unbuttoned, “—are the only things that matter to me. I love you, and every extension of you—of us.”

You sniffled, nodding your head a couple of times again before he leant down and you met him halfway, lips pressing together in a messy kiss, wet with your tears and Eddie’s. You pulled away once you realized he was crying, too, but he rushed to wipe his tears away, bashful. “Shut up, I have the right to be a little emotional, okay? It’s just been confirmed to me that I’m gonna be a dad, that’s some pretty big, fucking good news.”

You leaned in to kiss a stray tear off his cheek, licking it off your lips as you peered up at him in curiosity, “Confirmed?”

Eddie laughed as you squinted up at him, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “You nearly bit Argyle’s head off when he brought that pizza to movie night last month, baby.” “He forgot the bell peppers after I called him multiple times to remind him!” “And when you were helping Will out with his art project, you kept crying because it made you emotional,” he added, recalling the way you were silently crying as you painted the area of the canvas Will had asked you to touch up. “It was a very moving scene he depicted!” “Not to mention how many times I’ve cum in you. Honestly, the only reason I’m surprised is because I kind of expected this to happen sooner.”

You winced as his brazen words, normally they got the waterpark down there flowing but you could tell he was trying to get a reaction out of you, “Jesus, Eddie. Your breeding kink is showing.”

He winked, walking you backwards towards the bed, though it didn’t seem like his intentions were sexual, or at least not as sexual as he usually was when he fully intended on ravaging you. Once you fell back onto it, he clambered over you, hands moving either side of your night shirt away. He pressed a kiss to both of your breasts, mumbling a quick ‘my girls!’ before he focused his attention on the lower part of your stomach, suddenly fascinated at the sight of it.

“So, there’s a baby in there?” He asked, index finger trailing circles over your soft skin, just above your pelvis and the hem of your pajama pants.

“Mhm,” you hummed, then you remembered the sonogram and threw him off of you to run to your purse. Eddie watched you in amusement, lounging on his side, as you dug around in it. Once you’d found both the vial and the sonogram, you returned to the bed, crawling next to him as you handed him both. “What’s this?” He asked, admiring the blue liquid in the sealed vial.

“Chemicals and stuff, I’m pretty sure, and my pee.” He didn’t miss a beat, “That’s really hot.”

“Shut up, it’s my pregnancy test,” suddenly, Eddie was cradling it in his palm like it was the most precious thing in the world, “and this is your kid.”

You held the sonogram up and Eddie stared at it with wonderment, carefully setting the vial down on your old nightstand before he reached for the sonogram. You let him pluck it from your grasp, watching him in slight awe yourself, as he stared hard at it, easily able to make out the baby’s shape despite the lack of decent lighting. He trailed a finger over it gently, as if he was actually stroking his baby instead of outlining his baby’s form in the sonogram picture. When he looked back at you, his eyes were shining with the promise of more tears as he whispered, “This is our baby?” You nodded as your own eyes began to gloss over, choked up at how much Eddie seemed to love the little one growing inside of you already, “That’s our baby.”

“Holy shit,” He mumbled, gaze focused on the sonogram again before he seemed to come to some sort of realization and his head snapped back to you. “H-How far along are you?”

You pinched your bottom lip between your fingers, nervously as you answered, “Uhm, she said I’m about 22 weeks along now.”

You really loved Eddie’s eyes, so big, brown and pretty, but as big as they were, they could definitely get bigger. Like they were right then as he silently mouthed the latter half of your sentence before he found his voice again, “22 weeks? That’s—That’s five months!” You nodded in agreement, watching as he went through the same sort of emotions you had when the doctor had told you. “That only gives us like what—four months to prepare? Fuck, I have to baby proof so many things, and I have to build a crib, we’ve got to get carseats, what else do we need to raise a baby?”

“We can figure it out in the morning, I am ready to collapse,” you laughed as you took the sonogram from his hand and placed it on the nightstand near your pregnancy test before you pushed him back into the pillows, and unbuttoned his jeans. Eddie lifted his hips to allow you to tug them off and discard them at the end if your bed, then you curled into your place at his side, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent; woodsy (curtesy of the cheap cologne he used), with the slight scent of marijuana but you were even more pleased when you didn’t smell any traces of cigarettes, he’d given them up two months ago. You cuddled for a few minutes, but the exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to you. Eddie’s hand stroked over your back, lulling you further to sleep. Before you could fully slip under though, he asked, “Did you happen to find out the sex?” “Mhm,” You mumbled, sleepily as you pressed a lazy kiss to his collar bone.

“You gonna share with the class?” You could hear the amusement in his voice and you smiled against his skin at the mere thought of the pretty grin he no doubt had on his face. Eddie loved to talk to you when you were on the cusps of sleep for some reason. Thought it was endearing. “‘M not in school,” you slurred, eyes fluttering shut completely. “How are you such a smartass even when you’re half asleep?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You chuckled along with him, snuggling further into him. He thought you’d finally fallen asleep after you didn’t answer him, but he was rewarded five minutes later when you mumbled out, “’S a girl.”

A girl. He was gonna be a dad to a little girl. Eddie closed his eyes and he could practically envision her, a little miniature version of you; with your cute nose and your pretty features. Would she have your eyes or his? Would her hair be as unruly as his or more like yours? Maybe if he put a headset over your tummy and played some cool tunes, she’d come out with an appreciation for Metallica. He’d thought four months was pretty soon, earlier, but now it seemed like a century away, he was already eager to meet her. Soon, he mused, a hand moving to rest over your stomach.

Soon.

2K notes · View notes

gretavangroupie · 1 year

Text

Drift

Word count: 7.2k+

Pairing: Josh x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff.

“Two percent?!” you screech.

Looking down at the cellphone in your lap as you follow the winding directions you see the red battery icon and your anxiety starts to bloom. Your signal has been spotty at best and the constant in and out of service has drained your battery quicker than anticipated. With another hour to go you are starting to panic. Of course your phone would die while you are somewhere in the mountains.

It started snowing last night, and unfortunately has stuck around. So when the snow didn’t stop this morning you knew you would be in for an eventful drive home. Six inches turned into ten very quickly, and the roads were becoming slick. Your little sedan was not equipped for this type of weather, something you were pretty sure you wouldn't experience in Nashville but boy were you wrong.

The two lane road you found yourself upon currently was slightly off the beaten path, on the side of a mountain. Houses sprinkled in here and there, with their long winding driveways, painted white in a wintery scene. In different circumstances you would think it was quite beautiful, but right now, your white knuckle grip on the steering wheel has made you feel differently. Your windshield wipers are going full blast, further obscuring your view of the winding back road. You glance down to your phone to check the directions.

Four miles until you turn right.

As you read the directions out, you're met with a loud thump as your car moves 60 miles per hour over a perfectly placed pot hole, jostling you, your car and its contents.

“Shit!” you cry out as your head bounced back on the headrest.

Reaching down to pick your phone up off the floor, you type in your password and unlock it. But that was all it took. That measly 1% was gone in an instant. Panic swept over you, all you knew was that you had 4, maybe 3 miles now until you turn right. But what about the rest of the directions?

Okay, next shopping center I see, I will stop and grab a car charger.

The snow is falling quickly, and the sun is setting, leaving you to only rely on the light from your hi beams. You swallow thickly as you squint to see the lines on the road. You haven’t seen a car pass you in what feels like forever.

I knew it was a bad idea to get off the interstate.

You saw it, but it was too late. You couldn't react in time. If you slammed on your breaks your car would go sliding into the ravine. So you hit it. Whatever it was. It looked like a crow bar or some type of bent metal. That's what it sounded like too. As your car met with the object you heard a loud popping and you knew your night just got ten times worse. Your car began to limp further down the road with a metallic clatter against the wet asphalt.

You see a driveway in the distance and decide to push forward to pull into it, against your better judgment. As you pull off into the entry of the long driveway you put your car in park and immediately get out and see that your front left tire is completely blown out. The combination of the pothole earlier, and whatever that metal thing was, has left you stranded in the drift of someone's driveway.

You get back into your car and grab your phone, realizing that it died 15 minutes ago. As you sit back into the seat you rub your hands over your face and wonder what you did to deserve this. You turn on your hazard lights and pray that someone drives by and stops. But you know the likelihood of that happening is slim. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to drive in conditions like this.

As you wrack your brain for what to do, it occurs to you.

Maybe, there is someone in the house at the end of this driveway…

You know that this area that you are in is home to most peoples vacation homes, tucked deep into the side of the mountain. The chances of someone being here are small, but not zero. You grab your coat out of the backseat and put it on. From the looks of it, this driveway is fairly long and the snow is piled high and growing by the minute.

Turning off your car, you grab your dead cell phone, and your keys and get out. Now that the sun had set it was dark, and the wind was cutting like a thousand knives. You lock your useless car and shove your keys into your coat pocket. You pull your hood over your head and thank yourself for choosing a pair of sensible boots this morning.

As you walk the long snowy, gravel lined driveway you think to yourself that it must be a mile long, and uphill at that. Just as you think it could stretch on for another mile, you see a soft yellow light ahead of you. A light is on in the house.

Oh my god, someone is here.

Knowing that the house more than likely is warm, has your feet picking up their pace and landing you at the edge of the trees, opening up to the clearing where the occupied house sits. There is one car parked outside of the house and you can hear the soft vibrations of noise from inside. The house is large, old, and wooden. You can see that there are two stories and the ivy growing on the side of the house gives it a certain type of rustic charm you don't see too often anymore. There is smoke filling the air, coming from a chimney, and huge glass windows adorn the entire front of the house.

As you step up to the porch you brush the snow off of your coat and hood, pulling your frozen hand out of your pocket and nervously knocking on the black wooden front door.

The large glass window set into the door has you holding your breath as you see a figure approaching from across the house. Pulling a hoodie over their torso, they peer through the glass to see you standing there and run their hand over their face, as the door opens.

“How did you get this address?” he says.

You nervously stare back at him, “I– I didn’t…my car –I hit something. My phone is dead– I…” you stammer.

“You hit something?!” he asks, shocked.

“Yeah, it was dark, and the snow – I couldn't see. I think it was a crowbar or something.” you reply anxiously.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned.

“Yeah, I am okay. I am so sorry to bother you. My front tire blew out and my phone is dead so I can’t call Triple A…Do you think I could borrow your phone or, could you call, or…” you stammer.

“Yes, absolutely, come in. It’s freezing.” he says, opening the door. You can feel the warmth radiating from inside and graciously step into the house.

“Do you have your phone? I can plug it in?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah!” you say fumbling into your coat pocket and handing him the freezing device.

“My god, your hands are freezing! Here, come sit here by the fire.” he says, leading you from the front door, and into the open, spacious living room. He points to the couch next to the fireplace and says he will be right back. He runs up the wooden staircase and you can hear some banging around upstairs before you see him quickly flying back down the stairs, waving a phone charger in his hand.

You look around the house, and are intrigued by the charm of the renovated old home. The cobblestone fireplace, the wooden beams adorning nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s a split level home but it has an open floor plan, granting you visual access to almost every part of the house. Small sets of stairs lead to various rooms and loft areas. It’s a very uniquely designed floor plan, and you are interested in the history of the home. Admiring its charming old quality, your eyes flit around but stop when you see the massive windows. You are instantly taken with the wall of windows providing a picturesque view of the snowy scene outside. It’s very charming and you find yourself relaxing into the cozy couch by the fireplace, staring into the snowy sight.

“Better?” he asks, walking down the steps into the living room, before sitting in a chair across from you.

Realizing how you must look, you shoot straight up and fix your posture. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Thank you. This is a really cool home.” you say nervously fidgeting with your coat.

“Oh, thank you, I moved in about two years ago now. Still fixing things up here and there. Trying to bring it up to date without losing its rustic qualities.” he smiles. “I’m Josh by the way.”

“Oh, god, how rude I didn't even ask your name before I made myself at home on your couch.” you laugh. You introduce yourself and shake his hand, which is much warmer than yours and oddly soft. The room is dimly lit by the floor lamp in the corner and the small fixtures illuminating the bookcase in the upstairs loft. The fireplace is glowing brightly behind you. You can see the flames dancing along rhythmically in his eyes. Honey brown and glossy, he must have been drinking before you interrupted his night.

“When my phone turns on, I will call Triple A and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” you say biting your lip.

“What in the world are you doing driving in this weather?” he asks.

“I was driving back home. I went to visit my parents for the week. The traffic on 40 was so bad, I decided to take a back road thinking it would be faster, but then I got lost and my phone was dying, then this happened... It was not a good choice in hindsight.” you laugh.

“You’re brave. I’m from Michigan and even I wouldn’t be driving right now.” he smiles, his cheeks scrunching tightly beneath his eyes.

He is sort of…cute. Maybe in different circumstances…

“I know, it’s not too much farther…I think? I feel really bad that I interrupted your night.” you say pointing to the movie that is paused on the TV screen.

“Ahh, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen it a thousand times.” he says, waving his hand in the air.

You focus on it, and recognize the character on the screen. “Is– Is it A Clockwork Orange?” you ask, suspiciously.

He seems taken aback as he replies, “Yeah. Yeah it is…” a twinkle of intrigue in his eyes.

“Cool, that's a great film.” you say, politely.

A small smile forms at the side of his mouth, “Yeah, it really is...” he looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself.

Why do I feel like I am supposed to be here?

“Well, I should go see if my phone is turned on. I have bothered you long enough.” you say standing up, and walking up the small set of stairs into the kitchen.

“It’s on the kitchen counter by the fridge.” he calls out to you.

As you grab your phone you see it has come back to life, and you quickly dial out the number for Triple A. You lean over onto the counter as the call rings out. You stare out the windows at the snow still continuing to fall and explain to the man on the phone exactly what happened.

“What do you mean…But I don’t…. I can’t get anywhere…. Okay. Alright. Yeah, thank you.” you end the call staring at the screen dumbfounded.

As you stand there silently trying to figure out your next move you see Josh walk into the kitchen to join you at the counter. He leans his hip onto the countertop, facing you.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his curly brown hair falling onto his forehead.

You turn to face him and with a blank face you set your phone back on the counter. “No. Apparently they can’t send any trucks out until the morning after they plow the roads. The snow is too bad on the mountain?” you question.

He shakes his head, “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Listen, I don’t want to sound forward but, you are welcome to stay here until the morning. I have a guest room, and anything you might need.” he says kindly.

“Oh wow, that is so nice of you to offer, but I really feel like I am intruding. I mean, you don’t even know me.” you say.

“The alternative is what? You sleeping in your freezing cold car? No. I know we don’t know each other, but I am a human being and from one human being to another, please. Stay. You can leave as soon as you’d like in the morning. They should have the roads plowed by 7:00.” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

You stop for a second to think, but something is pulling you to stay.

“Are you positive that I am in no way putting you out?” you ask, hesitantly.

“Absolutely not. Glad to lend a helping hand. I mean, you must be alright if you knew I was watching A Clockwork Orange.” he smiles.

You nod your head, agreeing and his face lights up with a smile.

“Should we… finish it?” he asks. You bite your lip and stare at him. You know his brown puppy dog eyes have never been rejected in his life. You can feel it.

“Okay, I guess we could. But can I use the bathroom first?” you ask.

“Oh, of course. If you step through that guest room, it’s in there.” he says pointing across the kitchen.

“Thank you.” you say nervously.

As you make your way into the bathroom, you quickly relieve yourself and wash your hands, noticing the eclectic artwork hanging on the walls in the bedroom. He has very interesting taste in furniture and decor, but it kind of fits the feel of the house perfectly. As you make your way back into the living room you step down into the warm space, and see Josh waiting for your return sitting on one side of the couch with his feet crossed on the coffee table.

“All good?” he asks, he has noticed you have removed your coat and grants you a smile.

“Yeah, thanks. I am sure you didn’t see your night going this way.” you laugh as you sit down on the opposite side of the couch. But you feel it. A magnetism to be closer to him.

What? You don't even know him…

“You’re right I didn’t but I’m kinda glad it did.” he smirks with sultry eyes.

Maybe he feels it too…

You feel your cheeks blush as he unpauses the movie, and it roars back to life.

You spend the next hour talking instead of watching the movie, discussing the theories surrounding it and even further discussing Stanley Kubrick. You have a lot of the same opinions on his work and career. Josh is super knowledgeable about film making and even tells you how it was always his dream to be a filmmaker himself. Your heart warms at the fact that he is passionate enough to tell a complete stranger about his dreams.

You talk until the fire in the fireplace dies down and you find yourselves sitting in a dark living room, lit only by the small lamps on the book case.

He looks over at you and stares for a second, “Let me go grab you some clothes for you to sleep in, I'll be right back.”

“Oh, that's not necessary, I will be okay, really. I can just sleep in this.” you reply.

“Please, I insist.” he says standing and walking up the stairs, his bare feet padding up the wooden steps.

You stand awkwardly in the living room, waiting for him to return. You walk over to the windows and stare out at the snow, still falling. You walk back into the living room, and notice the bookcase on the second floor loft. You look around to see if Josh is coming back and when you see that he isn't, you make your way up the stairs and over to the full book shelves.

Browsing the titles you see a lot of classics. You run your index finger over the spines, stopping on names you recognize. The leather bound books are beautifully displayed and lit with tiny sconces on the front of the shelves. Bending down to look at the next row of books, you are surprised when you notice Josh standing next to you.

“Well, what do you think? Any good ones?” he laughs.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn't mean to pry. Well, actually. Maybe I did.” you smile. “But yeah, all the classics, you are well read.”

“I spend a lot of time traveling, and books are a great way to pass the time. I pull a lot of inspiration from these old books.” he says. He reaches a stack of clothes out to you and your hands brush his. You both recoil and look at each other like you have been zapped by lightning.

Surely he felt that?

You grab the stack from him, and look down. “Thank you.”

He bites his cheek like he wants to say something, but again, doesn’t.

“Come on, I will show you the guest room and get you some blankets.” he says, gesturing for you to follow him.

After a few minutes he has retrieved a few blankets for you and provided you with an extra phone charger, handing them to you with a soft smile. In the dim lighting you can see the dimple that forms in his cheek, perfectly situated above a tiny scar.

“I will turn the heat on a little warmer, sometimes it gets cold because of the windows. If you need me, I’m at the top of the stairs to the left.” he smiles, and shuts the door behind him.

You sit on the bed examining the pile of clothes he has so graciously brought you. A long sleeve white tee shirt and a pair of well loved sweatpants. You peel your clothes off of you, and slide into the much comfier attire. Maybe he was right, this will be warmer.

You plug your phone into the charger and spread the extra blanket over the twin size bed. You flip the switch on the wall and climb into the bed. You lay there hearing the wind whip against the old house. You think about your evening and how it went so completely different than you imagined. You are sleeping in a stranger's bed? The room is quiet except for the sound of the snow falling on the windows. You drift off to sleep and think of the beautiful curly haired man sleeping right above you.

You wake yourself up shivering. Your eyes open and you're met with total darkness. The light from the alarm clock long gone, the air growing colder by the second. The distant whirr of the refrigerator reduced to nothing. The power must have gone out. Your feet are frozen, hands too. Trying to pull the blankets closer to yourself you realize they are already as close as they could be. Your body shivers under the sheets. If only you had some socks you could make it through until morning.

You lay there for a few minutes trying to rub your feet together to create some warmth, but nothing was working. Your brain remembers the fire in the living room. It had been a few hours since it had gone out, but surely the hearth was still warm. You grab your phone, and turn on the flashlight, illuminating the floor below you. You quietly twist the door knob on the old door, and tiptoe through the hallway into the kitchen. Looking around, you see that the power is definitely out. Walking quietly down the small set of steps you find a place on the hearth of the fireplace, only to find that it too, has grown cold.

Rubbing your freezing cold hands together you think back to what Josh told you. ‘If you need anything, I’m up the stairs to the left.’ You think about going up there to ask for socks but quickly talk yourself out of it. As you look out the large windows it seems the snow has finally stopped falling, but it has accumulated quite a few inches. More than likely making the power fail.

You scroll through your phone on the couch, but your service is weak. You can't get anything to load. Tiredness begins to creep in on you as the stinging stiffness in your hands and feel remind you of their temperature.

Okay, just do it. Just go ask for some socks. Tell him the power is out. He will understand.

Setting your phone on the coffee table you swallow deeply and quietly make your way up to cold wooden stairs. When you reach the landing you turn to his door, which isn’t a door at all. There is no door, it’s just an open archway. The sight in front of you nearly takes your breath away. He has a fireplace up here, and it is still glowing with embers. Your legs carry you over to it where you place your hands and are greeted with the feeling of warmth.

Inadvertently you release a sigh as you feel your extremities warming. You hear the bed rustle behind you and you flip around, not even fully realizing that you are standing in this mans bedroom. He leans up on his arm, and you can see his eyes slowly opening as he sees you standing in front of his bed.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice light and groggy.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just– the power went out, and I was so cold I was just going to come ask you for some socks…” you stammer. “But then I saw the fireplace from the doorway, and my legs carried me here. I thought maybe if I could just warm my hands and feet I would be okay.”

He peels the blanket off of himself and stands up pushing his hair out of his face. His body clad in only his black boxer briefs, showcases his chiseled torso, glowing in the fireplace embers. You have to peel your eyes off of him as he walks across the room.

He returns a minute later with a pair of wool camping socks, “For your feet.” he says, handing you the socks. You reach out to grab them and his hand brushes yours sending that same electricity through your system.

“My god, you are freezing!” he says. How long have you been awake and cold?”

Bending down to pull the socks over your feet you answer, “I’m not sure, maybe twenty minutes?”

“Why didn’t you come up here sooner?” he asks, grabbing your cold hands in his warm ones, rubbing them together to attempt to warm them.

“Well, you were already nice enough to let me stay here, I didn't want to wake you up too.” you say bashfully. Your eyes travel down his body and back up. “Aren’t you… cold?” you ask.

“No, I’m a warm sleeper.” he answers.

“Ah, that sounds nice.” slips from your mouth before you even can register what you’ve said.

You clamp your hand over your mouth in regret and he smiles, a giggle almost leaving his chest.

“You know, I figured I would lose power. I’m not surprised. How about this… why don’t you stay up here? I will throw another log on, and we can both be warm.” he says, with innocent eyes.

Your eyes travel to the bed behind him, plush with white fluffy duvets and blankets.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as he goes to speak again, “It’s a big bed. We won’t even touch. I just won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re down there shivering.”

He bends over and tosses another log onto the embers, poking it with the fire poker until it lights. Feeling the warmth on your back, you look back to him. “Okay, but only because I am freezing.”

“I know. I’ll get you warm, don’t worry.” he smiles.

He walks over to the other side of his bed, pulling back the blankets and gesturing for you to slide in. He pulls the thick blankets over you and nods his head as he tucks you in.

Wow.

You can’t even think of a time when someone took care of you like this. It’s kind of sweet.

He walks back to the fireplace and prods the log making sure it won’t roll off, and closes the mesh divider.

He makes his way back to the bed, returning to the warm spot he left only minutes ago, sighing in relief as warmth washes over him as he pulls the duvet back over his now slightly chilled body.

He rolls to face you, though you are on your back, eyes cast to the ceiling. You can feel his eyes staring into the side of your head, so you turn your head to look at him. The room is dark, the only light coming from the small flames in front of the bed. The orange hues dance across his cheeks, highlighting his cheekbones, and producing a sparkle in his tired eyes.

“Do you feel it?” he whispers.

You feel your heart leap in your chest as your breath catches in your throat, “What?” you ask, nervously.

“The fire, do you feel it?” he asks.

God…

“Oh, yeah, I do. Thank you… for letting me stay up here. This is beyond…hospitable.” you reply, turning your body to face him in the bed.

“Are you warming up?” he asks, the log crackling in the fireplace.

“Yes, I’m starting to. I think it will take longer for my hands and feet.” you giggle.

“Here,” he says, reaching across, grabbing your hands and clasping them tightly between his. “Mine are plenty warm.”

You feel the electricity traveling through your body, and from the look on his face, he feels it too. A light hum leaves your chest as the warmth of his hands works quickly to heat your own.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, you are positive that he can see the pink blush creeping across your cheeks as you stifle a nervous smile.

“Yeah, it does. You’re lucky you’re so hot.” the words falling from your lips before you can stop them, something that seems to be happening far too often.

A smirk flashes across his face as you stumble trying to correct yourself. “Warm, I meant warm. Not hot. I’m sorry... But, not that you aren’t hot, you are. Really. But–I meant…I’m not making this better am I...” you sigh.

“No, you know what? I think it’s perfect.” he says, his hand gripping yours, thumbs gently exploring the valleys and peaks of your knuckles.

“You do?” you ask quietly.

“Mhmm…” he hums. The rumble from his chest sends a shiver through your body.

You can feel your body temperature rising, but it isn’t from the fire. Josh’s hand releases yours and your eyes flick down as he pulls them away. He notices your furrowed brow and looks up at you.

“I told you we don’t have to touch.” he smirks, rolling to his back, positioning his hands behind his head. You roll back to your back, mimicking his actions.

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes. You can hear the wind whipping against the windows, the thought causing you to shiver. You let your eyes travel the length of his body under the sheets and you bite your cheek as you meet his bare chest moving slowly up and down with each breath.

Pursing your lips together, you let your foot wander across the bed until it makes contact with his. You let the tips of your toes trace the curve of his ankle, as you watch a small smile play upon his lips.

He turns his foot to meet yours, rubbing slowly over the top of yours as he twists his body to face you again. He places his hand next to his face on the pillow, pushing down the fluffy feather filled fabric, “So you do want to touch?”

You turn your body to face him, letting your foot slide up his leg, feeling the soft hairs tickle you. “Maybe a little…” you answer.

“You feel it too, don't you.” he asks. But this time, you know he isn’t talking about the fire.

“Feel what, Josh…” you say in a playfully sultry tone.

“This.” He grabs your arm and pulls you as close to him as possible, his bare chest pressed directly to yours.

Your legs intertwine with his as his hand cradles the back of your neck. Yours rests on his warm chest. He really wasn’t kidding about the warm sleeper thing.

Your fingertip traces the line of his collarbone as your eyes flick up to his, “Yes…I feel it too.”

You feel his breath on your forehead and you sink into him, as his body heat warms you quickly.

Feeling bold, you press a barely there kiss to his throat, stretched taut over your head. You feel his Adam's apple bob against your lips as your lips connect with his skin. His legs twitch against yours and you feel a warmth creeping down your center.

A closed mouth groan rumbles through his chest as his grip on you tightens. You have never made the first move, but tonight wasn’t a normal night. He was a stranger. A beautiful, warm stranger and you had already taken the first chance by knocking on his door.

You feel him hardening against your stomach and you smile up at him. His eyes have grown dark with want and you know yours probably look the same. “Josh…” you ask.

“Hmmm…” he hums into the top of your head.

“You know you could have just started a fire downstairs… I could have slept on the couch.” you say.

“You’re right. I could have, but I knew both of us weren’t going to fit on the couch.” he replies, voice soft as velvet.

“So you did want me in your bed…” you tease.

“From the second you asked me if I was watching A Clockwork Orange…” he says.

You crane your neck, lips furiously in search of his. You would be lying if you said you didn't catch yourself staring at his plush pink lips all night as he spoke of his passions. Thought about how they would feel, how they would taste. You thought about kissing the tiny scar you noticed on his cheek in the guest room. But nothing you imagined came close to how he actually felt. How he actually tasted. His tongue slides across your bottom lip as it begs for entry into your mouth. Slightly parting your lips he slides in, his tongue searching for yours.

You twist your fingers into his curly hair and it’s softer than you imagined. His lips pull away from yours and you whine at the loss of the heat of his tongue against yours. His lips connect with your jaw and neck as you scratch your nails against his scalp. You feel him hum against your neck as you pull on his hair, begging him for more.

“You like that?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Yes… kee– keep going…” you beg.

“God you’re sweet. I have to know you.” he says, as his kisses travel further down your neck. You feel his warm hand slide underneath the hem of the borrowed white shirt. His hand radiates heat across the sensitive skin of your stomach burning a path as it travels up.

His eyes look to yours for permission, and he takes your deepend kiss as a yes as his hand connects with your hardened nipple. A moan leaves your mouth and travels into his and he rolls the taut flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

He releases it as he grabs a handful of your breast, massaging the pliable skin. Sliding your knee upwards between his legs, you feel his full erect length straining through his boxers. You press your pelvis into his causing him to groan and pull you in tighter.

“I want you to know me Josh, all of me.” you say, reaching down to grasp him in your hand.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You detach your lips from his neck as you respond with a nod, “Didn’t you say you would warm me up?”

“I did say that, didn’t I…” he teases, lifting the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head. As you lay there next to him, the orange glow of the fireplace reflects onto your skin.

“Shit, you are…for once I don’t have words.” he smiles.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you laugh.

“Good. I always have words. My brothers give me shit for it all the time. But you have me speechless…” he says with a smile.

You blush, and you're positive that even in the dark room he can see it. His dimple shows through and you pull his neck down to connect your lips with his once more.

Your hands travel down his sides, feeling his soft smooth skin beneath your hands. Supporting himself with one hand next to your head, the other hand skims to the top of the black sweatpants, teasing the sensitive skin across your hip bones.

He hooks a finger into the waistband and tugs downward pulling them to rest at your knees. You kick them the rest of the way off, leaving you bare beneath him.

“I can’t believe you got a flat in front of my house. I can’t believe I was actually here.” he says as if thanking God for his good fortune.

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” you whisper.

“I travel a lot. I’m not here probably six months out of the year.” he answers.

You know you want to dive deeper into that at a later time, because right now, you need him. Like you need air. Lungs burning from not having him.

You look directly into his beautiful brown eyes as you quickly rid him of his boxers. He kicks them off and your eyes travel down his chest to see the outline of his length glowing in the fire light between you.

He drops down to place wet kisses over your stomach and hips. Stopping and looking up at you as he presses a kiss to the mound between your legs. His tongue slips out and licks a warm path up your center causing you to breath sharply at the contact. Your hips flex backwards as your body silently begs for more friction. He pushes your legs apart slightly as he repeats the same motion, a sigh releasing from your chest.

His tongue pointedly circles around your clit, you groan becoming more audible. His hand reaches up and grabs yours placing it on the top of his head. He wants your hands in his hair and you willingly oblige.

Weaving your fingers through the curls you find yourself instinctively pressing down on his head to bring him closer. A growl racks through his chest.

“Josh… I….” you whine.

His lips detach from you, “I know beautiful, give it to me. I want it.” he demands.

His tongue begins to furiously swipe against you and within seconds you are free falling into your release bucking your hips up into his mouth. The moan from your chest echoing through the silent house. As you float there in the darkness you feel his mouth leave you, and once you’re fully back, you feel him pressing kisses to your thighs.

“Josh…I want you.” you say, pulling him up to hover over you.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “You can have whatever you want, as long as you keep making pretty sounds like that.”

Gripping his dick in your now much warmer hand, you pull him to you, pressing him against your soaked core.

You let go as he takes the lead, slowly sliding into you with a whispered ‘fuck.’

You adjust to him quickly, almost as if your body had been waiting for him since the minute he opened the door. His curls hang down his forehead as he sets a steady pace moving back and forth inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as your lips find his. You can taste yourself, but more, you can taste him. His essence. You can smell his earthy scent, pouring from his skin. Like a mix of damp wood and sweet vanilla.

He rolls his hips into you eliciting a moan from your mouth. He does it again receiving the same response and a smile crosses his face. His thrusts become harsher, hitting the spot you so desperately need him to hit, and he does. Flawlessly. Your moans fill the air in the room.

“I have heard so many things in my life, but god damn if this one isn’t my favorite.” he says, punctuating the sentence with the most sinful groan and you tighten around him.

“Fuck… just like that gorgeous.” he says pressing deeper with each thrust.

“Josh, fuck…” you whine.

“You gonna give me another one baby? I want it…Need to feel you cum on my cock.” he pants. His hips begin to falter, thrusting wildly and inconsistently. You can tell he is close and you’re not far behind him.

You squeeze around him as your fingernails dig into the soft skin of his back. “Please, harder.” you beg.

Sweat drips down the side of his neck as he bites his bottom lip, thrusting into you harder than he has been, the smack of skin ringing through the vaulted ceilings. “Fuck, you want it hard baby? God you’re fucking perfect.” his hips snapping into you repeatedly like a rubberband.

You toss your head back as you feel your stomach tightening.

“Ahhh… fuck you’re squeezing me so fucking good… I won’t last much longer, I need you to cum for me angel. Let me have it.” he begs.

His words send you spiraling into your second release, tensing around his cock so hard, that he meets his own ending. You feel him pulsing inside of you. Groaning with each spurt your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

His breathing is erratic as he collapses onto your chest, his messy curls tickling your face. You giggle as you push them away from your nose. He rolls off on you and onto his pillow, turning his head to face you as his breathing evens out.

He pulls you close to him, your head laying on his chest. You listen to his heart beating and feel the rise and fall of his chest. His fingers run through your hair, occasionally twisting a strand around his finger, feeling the silkiness of it between his digits. His fingertips massage your scalp practically putting you to sleep.

“You live in Nashville, right?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.

You nod your head against his chest. “I do.”

“Good.” he replies.

You kiss his chest and he places a kiss on the top of your hair, letting his arm fall loosely around your back. Sleep overtaking both of you, finally warm.

When your eyes open, you see daylight. It is bright, brighter than usual. The sky is gray and heavy with snow clouds, an ominous reminder of what looks to be another snow storm impending. Sitting up, you find yourself still in the king size bed in Josh’s room. You see now in the light of day, the entirety of the wall of windows that overtakes the back portion of his home. His bedroom opening up to the bright light of the day as soon as the sun would begin to rise. You see that he has gone from next to you, and you bite your lip, wondering if he regrets what happened.

You pull yourself out of the warmth of the bed and redress yourself in the borrowed clothes flung onto the floor with haste last night. You make his bed, a gentle thank you, for him to find later, before you step out of the doorway and make your way down the shiny wooden steps.

The power is back on, evident by the smell of the coffee pouring out of the kitchen. You look around the house but you don’t see Josh. Where did he go?

You walk to the coffee pot situated next to the stove, and begin opening the cabinet doors looking for a mug. Settling on a blue mug with the state of Michigan on it, you pour the steaming hot liquid into the mug, breathing in deeply the invigorating scent.

You carry the hot mug into the guest room, setting it on the bedside table as you change back into your own clothes. A few minutes later as you reemerge with the empty mug, you see Josh standing at the counter. He has on a sweatshirt and pants, and his hands are dirty. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold outside air.

“I was wondering where you went.” you say sheepishly, placing your mug on the counter.

“I woke up and decided, ‘Who needs Triple A’... I can do it. So I went and dug your car out of the snow, and changed your flat. I have to admit, I haven’t had to do anything like that in a while. Probably since I was home in Michigan. It may have taken me longer than it should but … it was kinda nice. But I will admit it was hard to peel myself away from you this morning.” he smiles.

“You didn’t have to do that!” you implore, “Gosh I feel so bad, I already feel like I have imposed so much!”

Peeling his hoodie off, he rushes to you. “You weren’t an imposition. You were the unexpected surprise I needed. The best surprise.” he says, grabbing your hands. “Last night was…perfect and I want to see you again. In fact I don’t even want you to go.” he says shyly.

“Really?” you ask, nervously.

“Yeah, but I understand you probably need to…” he says looking down to the floor. Your heart clenches realizing how nervous he is, and that’s when you decide.

“I actually have nowhere to be… but… I do need a shower and I’ll probably need some clothes.” you smirk.

“You know…I think I can help with that.” he smiles.

You peer out the window behind him, snow flurries just beginning to fall as you ask, “Have you ever seen 2001: A Space Odyssey? I feel like you’d like it…”

He shakes his head in amazement as a smile spreads across his face, making way for his perfect dimple. With his look suddenly turning to a devilish grin, he throws you over his shoulder and carries you up the stairs, laughing the whole way.

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littlebluespoon · 7 months

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Werewolf!Soap is here! Apologies for how long it took, I couldn't figure out how to end it.

2K words, tw: werewolves, cheesy romance books, chasing, kinda kidnapping, scaring, if there's any you think I've missed let me know

Look, I'm Scottish and I hate writing Scots and the accent, so you're just gonna have tae deal wi' it awright? 😅

There might eventually be a part 2, depends on if y'all like this part

You couldn’t believe your luck when you found the rental listing. A two bedroom, guest house on 4 acres of land in the middle of the countryside. Your only neighbour being your landlord who lives in the main house but was away on deployment most of the year. It was like a dream come true for you. Plenty of privacy and space for you to write, beautiful views of the loch and there was even enough space for you to finally have an office space. The best part about it all though was your landlord, Johnny. When you first saw him you were scared, this massive hulking guy in the middle of nowhere and you. He made you feel small, and he had this aura around him, something you couldn’t quite understand but it made the hairs on your arms stand up. When you learned he was military, you figured that was it but the feeling never quite went away completely. He showed you around the place and the more you talked, the more he cracked jokes, the more you got to know him, the more charmed you were by him. Before the tour was even over you were asking him when you could move in. It was a dream come true for you and it was even better when Johnny was home.

The house always seemed to wait for him to come back to break but that was alright with you, it meant you got to see him under your cupboards and up ladders fixing whatever went wrong. It certainly gave you plenty of material to write about. In the eight months you’d lived with Johnny you hadn’t stopped writing. Your publisher was ecstatic because you were churning out best seller after best seller all with Johnny as your muse. Seeing as you were using a pseudonym you were careful with the details you used to describe Johnny as well, knowing that he could be followed back to you but this time you just couldn’t help yourself. Your bestselling books were dark romances and taboo themes but your new one was your first about supernatural creatures.

‘Loosely inspired by every vampire romance out there; Stain the head vampire of his coven seeks a mate. One day he comes across a young female who’s just perfect for him. But she’s not charmed by his rugged mohawk or his deep Scottish brogue. Just how will Stain win over his bonnie lass?’

The dark erotic scenes and the cliff-hanger ending almost guaranteed that it would be another best seller for S.P. Wraith. But what really sold the book was the concept art for Stain, you’d commissioned an artist and you had them draw a likeness as close to Johnny as you dared. Within weeks of publishing you had a contract for a series of books and art of Stain was everywhere.

___

“Hey sergeant! You got a modelling gig we don’t know about?”

“Soap! Show us yer fangs!”

“Let’s see you sparkle Sergeant!”

Soap was confused and starting to get a little annoyed at all the comments the recruits had been shouting at him. He was used to banter and camaraderie between everyone but this felt almost mocking. As he walked into the 141’s meeting he noticed Gaz was waving a book around and reading from it aloud,

“’You don’t like my mohawk?’ Stain said, shocked at the admission from his little pet. ‘Why I thought it complimented my roguishness and charming smile’ he went on to sa.. Soap!” Noticing Soap’s entry Gaz struggled to hold in a laugh as Price looked at him in disappointment,

“You know son, if we’re not paying you enough I’m sure there’s other options before whatever this was,” Price says waving a hand towards the book but Soap knows he really wants to say ‘What the fuck Soap?’

“I didnae do it! I don’t even know what ye’s are talkin’ ‘bout!” Soap tries to defend himself while grabbing the book and reading the cover: ‘The Life of Stain, Volume 1; A Beating Heart by S.P Wraith’ and staring back at him was a drawing of his face, right down to the scars from his first transformation. Before Soap can respond Price takes pity on him and starts their meeting, the bear shifter easily grabbing the attention of the other team members.

Soap finished the book in record time, in fact it takes him longer to work out who had written it and once he does he kicks himself a little because it should have been obvious. His sweet little tenant who can’t keep their eyes off his arse whenever he’s over fixing up the guest house for you. For the rest of his deployment he can’t stop thinking about you. What he’d do to you, how you’d look wrapped up, naked in his sheets, covered in his marks, completely his. So he fantasises, he reads as much of your writing as he can get his hands on because it’s obvious to him that you’re writing out your own fantasies, waiting for someone, him, to come along and make them real. By the time he’s heading home he has a plan for how to make you his.

___

You’re cleaning your kitchen when you see his car drive up the long path between both your houses. Freezing behind your window, as if that would stop him noticing you, you watch as he hauls his bags out the boot and ambles his way through his front door. You don’t move until even his shadow is gone from your sight and once it is the only thing on your mind is dinner.

It’s tradition now, the first night Johnny’s back from deployment you make dinner for both of you and carry it over to his house. It started after you realised he never had any food in the nights he comes back because he’s never sure if or when he’ll get back so you made it your mission to welcome him home with a good meal and if it let you be in his company for a while, well that was just a bonus. Tonight you made a spaghetti bolognaise, quick but tasty and headed over. Like every other night, you ate together, chatted long into the early hours and watched as he slowly relaxed his posture and got used to being home again. When it came time for you to head to bed he watches you go and says goodbye with a

“I’ll be over in the morn’ to check that gutterin’ o’ yours,”

It’s the hammering that wakes you the next morning, taking two cups of coffee out to the front you find him just finishing up,

‘Early start Johnny?” you ask, handing him the cup and giving him a once over.

“Aye, can’t sleep in even if I tried,” he gives you a nod in thanks for the coffee and continues, “Well, that’s yer gutterin’ fixed at least, Wraith” You watch the smirk on his face grow at the same rate your confusion does,

“Wraith? Is that some new nick…” Your face drops in horror and you pale, “you know?” His smirk turns into a full on belly laugh at the expression on your face,

“Did ye really ‘hink I’d never find oot?” He takes the cup out your hand and crowds you into the wall, “Ya know, lass, if you wanted some monster inspiration all ye had tae do was ask. I only bite sometimes.” With your back against the wall and his hand sliding up your neck, holding you in place, you’re transfixed as you watch his canines lengthen before his face changes shape and ears sprout from his head,

“Ye git thirty seconds tae run lass,” a voice growls out, it could only be him but it doesn’t sound like the charming Scottish accent you’ve come to love.

His hands drop and he steps away so you can see everything. The tail, his clothes being ripped, the giant paws for hands, “30, 29, 28… run!” the screeching is what gets you moving as you bolt towards the forest in your back garden. You can still hear him counting as you dart between the trees and jump over logs, not daring to look back because you know that’s how you’ll fall. Catching glimpses of a shadow in your peripheral vision you decide your best action is to climb, aiming for the first tree you can feasible climb quickly you do so. Hauling yourself up into the branches and trying to remain as quiet as possible with a hand over your mouth to quiet your heavy, panicked breathing.

The panicked breathing turns into full on sobs when you hear a loud howl, there are no wolves in this part of the country, no normal wolves that is. Hearing the sound of branches being snapped, you freeze in your hiding spot praying that he can’t see you but Johnny’s a werewolf, he’s never needed to see to know where you are. All you can do is sit there and watch as a giant, black wolf stalks around the base of the tree sniffing at the ground. The wolf circles the tree a few times before settling down at the base of it and looks directly up at you. It’s eyes, you notice, are oddly human. They’re still Johnny’s eyes.

For hours the two of you exist in this silent standoff. It’s not until the sun begins to set and the cold begins to make itself known that a move is made,

“Come oan lass, give it up. I dinnae want to drag you out the tree” Jolting awake at his voice your fear returns, “Lass, get down now.” There’s a bite to his words now, a command that you’re sure he uses on recruits, and it would have worked on you had your limbs not been frozen with fear.

‘Fine, dinnae say ye weren’t warned,” is the last thing he says to you before he walks away.

You’re shocked at this turn but you take the opportunity. Once you can’t hear him anymore you scramble out the tree and make a dash for your home. If you can just get to your car. Get to the car. Car. It’s all that’s on your mind, your car is synonymous with safety now. But you barely make it three feet from the tree when the wolf returns. With a single pounce, you’re face down in the dirt, the wolf is on your back and the growling in your ear causes you to pass out in fear.

___

It's the heat that wakes you up eventually, smothering like a weighted electric blanket. Completely unaware of where you are you go to try and take your pyjamas off only to find a furry weight pinning you down. It’s the fur that brings your memories back, Johnny knows about your writing, Johnny who turned into a wolf in front of you, Johnny who chased you through the woods. It startles you into alertness and you open your eyes to find a sleeping wolf on top of you.

Moving slower than a snail and as smoothly as you could manage with the full body shakes you’re battling, you manage to slide out from under him. Finding the door you get to it on shaky legs and are, reaching for the handle when a growl makes you freeze. You can hear his claws as they scrape across the ground, feel his teeth as he snags your shirt in them and his arms around your waist as he pulls your back against his chest,

“Yer no goin’ anywhere sweetheart. I’m no lettin’ ye” Johnny buries his face in your neck as he talks, muffling his last words.

“Johnny, I’m sorry. Okay, I’ll give you the money from the book, whatever you want,” you can’t decide whether to pull at his hands or push at his face, “I’ll find somewhere else to rent,” it’s something you’d hate to do but right now your life is more important.

“Leave? Lass, I ‘hink you’ve got the wrang end o’ the stick. Ah dinnae want ye tae leave, in fact imma gie ye a choice,” he pulls away from you, pushing you back against the door and caging you in between his arms, “I’ll even gie ye some time to ‘hink aboot it, awright. Ye can be my wife, and live happily with ev’ryhing ye ever want… or ye can be my pet, and this room will be the only thing ye ever see again.” The kiss that comes is surprising and gentle. He leaves you in a state of shock for a few seconds before grabbing a handful of your hair and dragging you across the room, “Just a little preview o’ yer options. Have a ‘hink, I’ll be back later sweetheart.” You’re too shocked to hear the door but what you do hear are the locks, three of them that signal no way out for you. All that’s left for you to do is sit in the dark and make your choice.

___

What will your choice be?

___

#bluespoonswriting #call of duty fanfic #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #werewolf fiction

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elionwriter · 1 year

Text

Sherlock Holmes the Awakened: a Review

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I just NEED to talk about this game! I have been a Frogwares Holmes fan since the very beginning and 'The Awakened' was always among my favourite titles. Not to mention one of the games that had scared the wits out of me. So I have to speak about the Remake now.

First and foremost, I think it needs to be reiterated that this game was made DURING THE FU****G INVASION OF UKRAINE! During such dark times, the team kept working on this. I would have supported this game even just for this reason alone.

Now, let's be honest: Frogwares never had the most marvelous graphics nor the most polished of gameplays and this entry is not an exception. I still feel the map system is a bit difficult to navigate (I may be an idiot, but I had the same issue with Chapter 1) but I really appreciated the added help the game gives you when you're recreating a scene, letting you know which passage you got wrong. Last game I found myself changing everything trying to hit the right combination so I really liked this fix.

This needs to be said: the game doesn't feel under any shape or form a product for a new fan. Everything from dialogues to game mechanics sort of take for granted that you've at least played 'chapter one'. Honestly? I'm ok with this, I hate having to always go through nearly identical tutorial stages for games I know inside out (like Pokémon) and I believe that most of not all people who are going to get this game ARE old fans!

I wasn't originally a big fan of the new Holmes and Watson models when the last game came out but....I dunno, they have grown on me. I find myself liking them now for, I suppose, no other reason than 'they are very expressive' and 'I've gotten used to them'. I think it's gotten to the point that these might be my favourite models of the two to date. Please ignore how fickle I am! (In honesty, just to draw a similar parallel, when Roger Craig Smith was first announced as Sonic's voice I hated it and now he's my fav Sonic v. actor)

This game has something.....compared to its predecessor, that makes it less scary. I can't really put my finger on it, but I distinctly remember the feeling of claustrophobia building in me when I was in the Black Edelweiss. Or the sheer jumpscare I got when the sacrificed American detective on the altar had tentacles coming out of it and severing his head making it roll to the ground. I remember almost not wanting to paddle the rowboat under the tree of hanging men in the Bayou. I remember how viscerally sick I felt at the lighthouse by all the gore and blood depicted. This time round.....I just didn't. I'm honestly not sure why this didn't hit me nearly as hard as its 2006 predecessor did!

And talking about comparisons, one thing I'm a bit disappointed they didn't grab the chance to do in this remake was fix the loose ends that were left hanging in the 2006 version. I mean....they still abandoned completely the search for that one Maori servant, what happened to all the people they managed to rescue? Who hired the private American detective that was killed? Why give out the cheap pendants? I know I'm a bit dumb and need extra explaining than what is necessarily needed but...I can't be the only one right? Sometimes you want to be told just a bit more.

Now, getting into the really good bits, that make all of it worth it!

'Chapter One' acted as a 'de facto' reboot of the Frogwares Holmes series, and I honestly think that was for the best. I don't really see where they could have gone with things after 'Devil's Daughter' and their Holmes had changed too much to be the same guy from 'The Silver Earring'...let alone Watson. But like this? They have a fresh, clean slate to start off from and they can rebuild the two mains' relashionship and lore from the ground up in a more strictly consequential manner. And the way they are doing it? I think it's state of the art!

The fact that they poke fun at themselves on certain points like Watson stating: "What about when you used to roll up only one of your sleeves? Did you get bored halfway through?!" I think the Devs themselves realized this was a cringe design choice and I like that they said so out loud.

The meta-conversation they wrote in towards the end, 'because yes, this HAS Happened before and the story still has the same outcome', is brilliant. I don't think I've ever seen another remake that acknowledges that it is a remake, and in the general madness that is mounting in the narrative this makes perfect sense! It adds one more layer of horror and inexplicable to the tale. The villain's warning 'that the Final Problem is coming and Sherlock will fall in the abyss too' is such a powerful way to use Canon. The prophecy is only made more real and dreadful by the fact that this person is aware of what has already happen in a similar but different scenario!

Also, not them using that one quote from 'The Valley of Fear' novel which happens to be one of my all time favourites!

I say, Watson,’ he whispered, ‘would you be afraid to sleep in the same room as a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?’ ‘Not in the least,’ I answered in astonishment. 'Ah, that’s lucky,’ he said, and not another word would he utter.

I think the thing that has most benefited from the Remake is Watson's character. Compared to the 2006 version, this Watson is a truly compelling character in his own right and this time round he's not just along for the ride. In this version, you simply cannot imagine how Holmes would have done it on his own. Watson was in every way a key component to the solution of the problem and the reason why Holmes didn't drown in madness. That point is driven home by Rochester asking 'How did you defeat me?' and Holmes answering 'I made a friend!'

Much of the narrative in the game was focused on Holmes truly learning to accept Watson's friendship and him as a person when he was still clinging so much to his old imaginary friend. You can see how, at first, Holmes refuses to be honest with the Doctor about what he thinks and feels and it's only as they move forward in the adventure that they both open up to each other. You can see as the adventure progresses that Holmes shifts his desperate cries from 'Jon' to 'Watson' to 'John' and the Doctor goes more and more often from 'Holmes' to 'Sherlock'. Mycroft also points this out when he says that Sherlock 'went from one Jon to another'. But this one, John Watson, is real and there to stay. In the context of a story that happens mostly in the detective's mind, Watson's friendship is really what turns the situation around!

I could add of little tid bits which were so random and on the nose that somehow worked, like the possessed 'Heidi' doll or the fact that you had to actually 'Kill Holmes' with the booby traps instead of avoiding them.

Also, "The director Guygax was randomly killed.....by a doll?!????!?!?! Yeah, let's just walk out of here no questions asked. That's too deep a wormhole even for this f***d up Adventure to go down. I'm sure nobody is gonna ask us questions, suspect or stop us as we go out the main doors!" 😃 -Holmes, probably.

So, yeah, I loved this game despite it not being perfect and my love and support goes to Frogwares more that ever!

#sherlock Holmes the awakened #sherlock holmes chapter one #sherlock holmes #john watson #frogwares holmes #sherlock holmes devil's daughter #holmes x watson #sherlock x john #sherlock and jon #jon #mycroft holmes #chtulhu #eldrich horror #lovecrafian

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year

Note

THE TRANSLATOR BANNED FROM EXISTENCE THE PART I TALK ABOUT OF THE EULA How about the class with prompt 6, with a reader who never shows emotions, and really no one knows, but he thinks everyone knows. And when he finds out that no one knew he is completely embarrassed and wants to stick his head in a Geovishap hole

The character is eula

“I know everyone knows at this point, so let’s just get this over with. I like you.”

characters: Eula x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Thanks for the request, I hope this matches what you envisioned. But if you don't like it, feel free to tell me and I'll try again once I find the time and motivation.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Eula

You weren’t exactly prone to wear your emotions on your face, preferring to keep on your poker face whenever you could. And while Eula wasn’t too sure why exactly you were the way you were or when you started, she didn’t exactly feel like putting her nose in things that had nothing to do with her. You didn’t judge her, or at least did a good enough job to hide it if you did, and didn’t tell a soul about whatever her drunken self decided to ramble to you about. What more could she ask for?

Something seemed off today, although Eula couldn’t quite put her finger on it. When the two of you first met, telling which way you were feeling was an impossibility for her, and probably anyone else. Luckily however, the reconnaissance captain had turned into something of a you-whisperer since those days, her gut feeling turning out to be true most of the time. Sure, there were times where she was off by a high margin, but luckily enough you were tactful enough not to bring those occasions up.

Where was she again? Oh, right. Something was off about your behavior today, was it the way you subtly tensed up whenever you caught someone staring at the two of you, or how you conveniently always had the sudden urge to stare anywhere except her eyes when she would attempt to make eye contact.

Have you started a business and suddenly worried about your reputation or something? Or were you guilty over keeping a secret from her? Who knew, but whatever it was, Eula didn’t exactly like how it made her feel, and before she knew what she was doing, she had already opened her mouth to call out your name.

“I hope you know that you can tell me if there’s something bothering you”, Eula spoke, only to see you stop in your tracks for a moment, quickly giving her a nod, your attempt to shrug her comment off like there was nothing bothering you turning out to be surprisingly effective at annoying her. “Ignoring me won’t make your secret any less obvious”, she remarked once again, this time in a slightly different tone.

Only when you stopped once again, turning to her with a slightly nervous look, was it that Eula finally felt secure in her gut feeling of something being wrong, silently thanking whatever higher power felt inclined to listen to her for not adding another entry in the list of moments not to talk about.

“So you know…”, was all she heard you mumble to yourself before turning towards her fully. “I know everyone knows about it, so let’s just get this over with. I like you”, you stated, your slightly coloured cheeks resembling a blush… compared to your usual stone-face at least.

Or at least that was the case in the beginning, but once you saw Eula’s eyes widening in shock and realized that you two might have been talking about two completely different types of secrets, your face quickly heated up, only for you to wish for nothing more than to melt into the floor.

The next time you managed to get yourself to sneak a glance at Eula, she was opening and closing her mouth in search for anything to say, only slowly beginning to regain her composure, before scanning the environment for any onlookers, looking back to you once she found none.

“Are you serious?”, she eventually managed to get out a couple of words, only to continue once she saw you nod.

“Alright, but you better don’t change your mind once you get one weird look from someone or I'll make sure to have my vengeance.”

#Just a simp's spring event #eula x reader #eula x you #eula x y/n #eula #eula lawrence #eula lawrence x reader

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andydrysdalerogers · 2 years

Text

Attitude – Steve Rogers

Pairings: Steve Rogers x F! Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Song: Birthday Sex - Jermih

Summary: Its your birthday and Steve... well Steve forgot....

A/N: This one I wrote just for me. A little smutty action for my readers on my birthday (5/3) You’re welcome. 😉 😏

It would be that he would forget today. His mind is on the mission, concentrated on defeating the enemy and making sure his team is safe. Its not like he would do it on purpose. You make it possible for him to do his job but sometimes a little acknowledgement would go a long way. He pursued you, after all. You were just an analysis at the compound. Tony brought you in from your position at a Fortune 500 company because you were brilliant. And a party for the employees one night brought you to the forefront of Steve Rogers’ world.

It was like a fairytale. He courted you, (yes, his words, courted), asked your father for permission to ask you to marry him. Tony had been so thrilled that Capsicle had found someone to thaw him out that he paid for a fairytale wedding as well. It was everything you ever dreamed of. Steve cried when he saw you walking down the aisle on your father’s arm, causing you to cry. It was perfect.

But now, two years into it, you were just upset. Steve had acclimated to the 21st century. He had a phone to remind him of everything but this, this is the one day he forgot. So, you just took it in stride. What else could you do? The keys hitting the lock brought you out of your thoughts, going back to working on dinner. Dinner that was supposed to be special, not made by you. You shook your head as your husband walked through the door. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi.” You saw him drop his bag by the door. You tried not to get irritated. He supposed to put the bag in the laundry room and empty it. Be helpful, like you had asked. But you were so hurt from his forgetfulness already that you had no fight in you.

Steve comes and kisses your head. “Whatcha making?”

“Pasta.” You drop the noodles in the pot to cook. “Ready in 10.”

“Sounds good. I’m just going to change.” He leaves the kitchen, and you mutter under your breath. “Sure, just leave your clothes everywhere.” You finish up dinner and serve.

It’s a quiet meal with Steve unable to talk about the mission just letting you know that it was successful, and no one was seriously injured. You hummed in approval and got up to clear your plate. “Something wrong sweetheart?”

“Nope.”

“YN, you’ve said maybe five words since I’ve been home.”

“Just tired Steve. Tony assigned me a project and it just took the life out of me. I thought… never mind.” You turned back to the living room where Steve’s bag was still in the entry way. Goddammit. You grabbed the bag and hauled it to the laundry room. “Guess I’m just the maid now,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Steve was perplexed. You had never had attitude like this. You were sweet, loving, his princess. He went to reach for his phone to call Nat to see if she had any insight when he realized his phone had been dead. He remembered he hadn’t been able to charge it yesterday. He plugged it in and gave it a few minutes. After it had enough charge, all of his messages and notifications came through. And a bright red one was right on top.

TODAY: YN’S BIRTHDAY

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck.

He was completely and utterly fucked. He forgot his wife’s birthday. And then he remembered the bag he left at the door. And the dinner you had made for him. On your birthday.

Ok, he is a dead man.

Steve shot off a few texts, pleading with Nat to help him. As soon as he had a plan, he went to get you. He got up and went to the laundry room. He saw you there, swearing at him under your breath as you sorted his clothes for washing. He knew you were angry, but he had never seen you like this. One particular swear got his attention.

“He thinks I’m his fucking maid well he has another thing coming.”

“Want to run that by me again?”

You stopped and closed your eyes. He had heard you. You turned around and glared at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Steve’s eyes darkened. “You might want to adjust the attitude princess.”

That set you off. “And what the fuck are you going to do to make me?”

He stalked forward and you step back, fear now entering your eyes as you see the look on Steve’s face. “Say that again princess. I dare you.” He wraps his thick fingers around your neck, applying just enough pressure to control you.

But it isn’t enough to stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “I said what the fuck are you going to do about it.” A single tear falls from your eyes. It was supposed to be your day. Your birthday. And yet, here you were, fighting with your husband.

Steve doesn’t like to see you cry but at the same time he’s aroused with your attitude. He pulls you close. “I’ll fuck this attitude right outta ya, princess.” His Brooklyn accent comes out think and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You move to close your legs but Steve blocks with his knee. “Oh no, princess.” He spins you and bends you over the top of the washer machine. “Ya want ta be a brat, I’ll treat ya like one.” He holds your back down as he unbuttons your jeans.

“Steve,” your voice trembles. “What are you doing?” He’s never been aggressive with you, never wanted to hurt you. He was always gentle, and this new Steve was scaring you a bit.

“I want my princess back, so I think I’ll punish the brat out of you.” He gets your jeans and panties down, and he stares at your bare ass. He sinks down to his knees to lick your pussy from behind, listening to you mewl from the sensation. “At least this part of my princess tastes the same,” he smirks.

“Steve, Steve, please,” you beg. This is new, it’s all new and you love it. Steve keeps going, swirling his tongue on your clit, your entrance, even your ass. He stops only to lift you onto the machine so he can watch your face as he continues his assault. He slowly adds a finger, and then another, stretching you open. “Oh fuck baby.” He can feel you starting to tighten, and he stops. “S-Steve?”

“Bratty girls don’t get to finish. Only my good little princess gets to finish.” He smirks as he starts up again. Its faster this time to build and he knows it. He wants to tease you to the brink and give you the best orgasm for your birthday. Then she can enjoy while he makes love to her. That’s his plan. At least for now. He feels you tighten again, and he stops.

You let out a frustrated growl. It’s your birthday and he’s edging you. What kind of husband does that? But of course, he doesn’t remember it’s your birthday. He starts for a third time, and you think you might die if you don’t release. “Please Stevie, please, I don’t – I don’t know if I can handle this?” The tears are real, the fear of this new Steve coming through.

Steve stops and starts to pull away. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No! Please don’t stop! Please!”

Steve dives back in and thrusts his tongue back into you. You grab at his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck! I’m so close.”

“Cum for me my princess. Let me drink you in.” Steve darts his tongue in and out and you are lost, blinded by the power of the most intense orgasm of your life. You don’t feel Steve riding out your high or picking you up and putting you in bed. But you do feel when he climbs on top of you and slowly enters. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to take it that far.” He kisses you softly as he thrusts gently. He makes love to you slow, letting you enjoy every sensation.

He flips you so you are on top of him but doesn’t let you do the work. He grasps your hips and slowly moves you up and down. “You are so beautiful.”

One particular thrust has you seeing stars. “Oh Stevie,’ you moan, your head tossed back.

He rolls you back over so he can look into your eyes. “I love you YN. You are my whole world.” He reached down to pull your leg up and reached over to your clit. “I want you to know how much I love you.”

“I do Steve I do,” you cried. You built up again closing your eyes.

“Open them princess. Please open them,” he begged. When they opened, he could see the desire for him, the love you had. “Let go,” he whispered. With a long moan of his name, he watched as you cummed around his dick. “That’s it, princess. Squeeze me, use me. Oh fuck!” He released into you, riding it out until he could hear the squelching sounds slowed.

He kissed your forehead as he pulled out and went to grab a towel. He cleaned you up as you were in your dazed state. He crawled back into bed with you and held you as you fell asleep. He kept his movements on your body soft as you slept. A buzz from the nightstand made you stir but not wake. Steve reached for his phone. He smiled at the messages and decided it was time to wake you. He kissed you lightly on your lips. “Sweetheart? Princess, it’s time to get up.”

“No.”

“C’mon princess. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“No.” You rolled onto your stomach and buried your head.

“Please?”

“No, its my day and I want to stay here.” Your muffled reply came with a quiet sob.

“Oh princess. I’m sorry. I know I forgot. Please let me make it up to you.”

You lifted your head. “Who reminded you?”

“My phone. It died and when I charged it, I saw the reminder and…” he could see the tears forming, “I forgot. I shouldn’t forget but I did.” You rolled to your side, not wanting to look at him. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” He held you close as you cried. “You’re my princess and I want to treat you like one. Please, my love?” You turned to him, and he kisses your nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble, burying your head into his chest.

“C’mon sweet girl, let’s get ready.” He lifted you up and took you to the shower with him. He washed you all over, taking his time but not letting you wash him. “I’m worshiping you today so out so I can wash up.” You pouted but went to your closet. You pulled on your favorite red dress, the one that makes Steve drool.

Hair and makeup done, you walked out of the bathroom to see Steve’s mouth hang open. “See something you like, soldier?”

“I, umm, Jesus, you are fucking beautiful,” he said, his eyes raking over you. Now he just wanted to peel that dress off of you and keep you in bed. But no, this was your birthday and he needed to make everything right. He placed his hands on your hips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reach up for a kiss.

“Hmm, I want to keep kissing you but we have to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise princess.”

Steve guided you to the other side of the compound. Everything was dark. “Steve?”

“Hold on, let me find the switch.” The lights came on.

SURPRISE!

The team was there, streamers hanging, champagne glasses raised in your honor. You gasp, holding your hands to your face. You look at Steve who is smiling big. He pulls you close. “I’m sorry I forgot and I’m sorry I forgot about the bag.”

“Stevie…”

“Hang on.” Bucky brought him two glasses and gave you one. He cleared his throat. “Everyone, thank you for coming together on such short notice to celebrate this woman right here. She is the most patient, forgiving, loving, extraordinary woman I have ever known. And tonight, I just want to celebrate her.” He raised his glass. “To YN. Happy birthday!”

“To YN! Happy birthday!” Everyone clinked their glass as you had to turn your head to wipe away the tears. Everyone comes up to give you their wishes and hugs. Tony has a cake brought out for you to make a wish. Some music is played, and Steve takes you in his arms and starts slow dancing with you.

You start to feel guilty about all the effort made. “Stevie, I…”

“Don’t princess. You deserve this and more. I love you. And I promise, I’ll be better at being a good husband.”

“I guess I can be better at talking to you. I’m sorry for swearing at you.”

Steve pulled you in closer and whispers, “It’s ok princess but if I hear ya swear again, I have no problem fucking that attitude right outta ya. Birthday or not.”

You look up at his eyes and see that they are blazing. You smirk.

“I’d like to see you fucking try.”

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #captain america #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction

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heartsfromia · 1 year

Text

try again — l. seokmin

pairing: non-idol! seokmin x reader

word count: 1,745

genre: fluff, minor angst

warnings: nothing

author's notes: yes i do imagine seokmin looking as fine as the pic set above in this :)

You hated reunions.

Alright, hate might a strong word, but you had an obvious distaste towards events that are just a get-together to show off how much money and assets you have obtained since the last time you had met the people you obviously didn't care about. You found reunions to be a waste of time; it wasn't necessary to have an entire event catered to some sort of "whose life is better" contest.

Don't get it wrong, you weren't a complete outcast in high school, but you had a small circle that if you wanted to meet them, you would. You didn't need a reunion to do that.

However, Mingyu didn't like the idea of you spending your Saturday night alone in your apartment with your kitten, when you could go to your high school reunion after 5 years since your graduation.

"I have better things to do, Mingyu," you tried to convince your best friend. He, however, wasn't convinced with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at you with a questioning brow, as if to ask "what?". You rubbed at your neck, shrugging, "I planned on rewatching Game of Thrones."

"You can do that some other time, Y/N, come on, don't you miss our friends?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "More like your friends, you were always the more popular one."

Mingyu only rolled his eyes, heading over to your closet to find something representable to wear. The reunion was tomorrow, and without your permission, he already signed you up and even went as far as to pay for your entry ticket since he knew you wouldn't bother to pay for it.

You groaned, rolling onto your back as you watched Mingyu rommage through your things. "I really don't want to go, Mingyu, it's such a waste of time to meet people I don't care about, you know?"

He spun around quickly, locking eyes with you, "Even your ex? Even Seokmin?"

You sprung up from where you lied, turning to Mingyu with your eyebrows knitted together. "Seokmin?"

He nodded, turning back around to pull out a leather jacket from your closet. "Seokmin told me he was considering going—said something about our schedules being too busy, so this might be the only time we get to meet after a while." He walked over to the edge of your bed, dropping an array of clothing pieces.

"'We'?"

"Him, Minghao and I," he stated, eyes not moving from the clothing pieces. "I think red might look good on you, Y/N."

"Are you sure he's going?"

"He's considering, but who knows, his schedule is the most packed, even for weekends," Mingyu explained, before facing you to ask, "wait, do you still keep tabs on him?"

"Pfft… of course not," you lied, avoiding his sharp gaze. Of course he wasn't convinced, but he didn't need an explanation. Of course you kept tabs on the one ex you've had that wasn't a complete psycho. Despite already deactivating your main social media accounts, you used burner accounts to see how Seokmin was doing every once in a while. The midnight stalking hitting worse whenever you break off a relationship with past boyfriends that, in your opinion, were nothing like Seokmin.

He was the perfect boyfriend, after all. You were incredibly grateful to have him as your boyfriend, making your relationship with him that off the books—you were high school sweethearts.

However, much like high school sweethearts, it started in high school and ended in high school.

The terrible part about it, is that you left Seokmin in the dark about the reason why you couldn't continue the relationship. Thus, breaking up with him became your biggest regret, and you knew you had to fix it.

And the only way to do so was to show up at the stupid high school reunion with Mingyu and his annoying grin.

"Don't leave me alone," you remember telling him as the you both arrived at the venue, only for him to proceed to leave you alone as the DJ the committee had rented began. You watched from where you were sat, glaring at the six-foot nuisance as he busts out questionable dance moves on the dance floor.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A chill ran up your spine, spinning around to find Seokmin. Your lips stretched into a small smile, reaching your eyes as you greet him, "Hey, Seokmin."

"Did you come alone, Y/N?" You shook your head, before pointing to Mingyu who was now doing the robot. "Ahh… he really hasn't improved."

You laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Do you want to accompany me outside? It's a bit stuffy in here," he invited, and you nodded, quietly following behind him as you both walked out of the ballroom and onto the balcony outside. The committee for the reunion really leveled up with booking a hotel's ballroom on the higher floors—the balcony overlooking to the city skyline.

"So, how are you, Y/N?"

"I am getting on well," you answered, looking over at him. "How about you?"

"I'm doing well, too," he looked over at you, sending you a smile. You felt the atmosphere between the two of you shift, knowing well enough that he had more questions he wanted to ask, but was hesitant. How you both broke up wasn't the most ideal as it left more questions than answers, that you knew you couldn't give him at that moment.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out finally, breaking the silence between you two. He faced you, brows knitted in confusion but didn't say anything, allowing for you to explain.

"I'm sorry I never could tell you the real reason why I broke us up," you began, "I guess… not getting into the school I wanted hit me harder than I thought, and… and well, you… you were got accepted into the school you wanted, and I don't know, I felt like I was being left behind…"

He didn't say anything at first, only stared at the side of your face as you explained.

Seokmin remembered that day, when you decided to end your three year relationship through text. It came all of a sudden, a day after he had told you that he got accepted into his dream school and you were happy for him, even asking if the two of you could go out to celebrate for his acceptance. The break up was out of the blue.

So out of the blue, that Seokmin on that day had drove over to your house after you had stopped responding to his texts of him asking why, what had happened. He was worried.

"Y/N, Y/N, let me in," he knocked on your day, taking note of the absence of your parent's car. "Y/N, please, let's talk about this."

You opened the door, your face swollen from crying the night before. Immediately, he engulfed you into a hug, and you broke down, tears sinking into his shoulder as you let yourself cry. You needed this—a hug, but it still didn't change anything, you still ended it with him.

"So, you broke up with me because you felt like I was leaving you behind?" He asked slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Dumb, I know," you sighed weakly.

"Yeah," Seokmin couldn't help but agree, "but I understand, Y/N, I just wished you had told me."

"I was too embarrassed, and also, I didn't want to rain on your parade, you were accepted and I wasn't… I didn't want to ruin your mood back then."

"And breaking up with me didn't do that?" he asked, his tone teasing, which only caused you to burn up in shame, turning away in embarrassment. Seokmin reached out, tugging at your arm. "I'm just teasing, Y/N."

His hand slowly ascended down where he had gently grabbed your elbow, the skin in which his had grazed upon had burned beneath his touch. The heat from him trailing up your arm to the apples of your cheek, extending towards the tips of your ears. Even after all these years, he still had the same affect on you as he did before.

"I missed you," you uttered, barely above a whisper, causing his eyes to look up to yours, the corner of his lips tilting upwards into a soft smile.

"Me, too," he replied, looking down at your hands as his fingers slipped between yours, letting the warmth from his palm radiate into yours.

"Did… did you ever move on?" This was the question you've always wanted to ask him, hoping that if he did, then you could move on from him completely. You never attempted to reach out, to confirm your assumption that your high school relationship was only ever to stay in high school, with absolutely no possibility of continuing on as you both grew up.

You were stuck in a loop as you forced yourself to move on, but your taste in men had downgraded after Seokmin, and as cruel as it sounds, no one could ever replace the void that Seokmin had occupied before.

"I never really could find myself in a relationship after you, Y/N, as cheesy as it sounds," he explained, "especially when I had no way of contacting you… finding closure was impossible, but the thing is, I don't want closure for something I never wanted to close."

Seokmin was always pure in your eyes. When the world around you felt dark and cold, no one found anywhere near you, he'd show up and with a single smile, he'd scare off everything you hated away—he was an eternal sunshine in this dark world.

"It's you, Y/N, it has always been," he concludes, encompassing your other hand with his as he pulls you closer, "no matter how hard you try to disappear, I'd always look for you."

You smiled up at him, feeling warmth drip down your cheek and Seokmin reached up, wiping away the tear that you didn't know had formed, but kept his hand against your cheek.

"Let's try again, Y/N, yeah?"

You froze in your spot, glancing between his eyes to find a hint of uncertainty, that he was just caught in the moment of meeting you after so long, but nothing. He's sincere—he means it.

"If we were to end it, then I wished we had ended it in a better way, but if I had to be honest, Y/N." The soft smile grew into a wider smile, although his eyes stayed the same; warm. "I hope we never end it."

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