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say-al0e · 28 days

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Hypothetical

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Eddie asks a lot of hypothetical questions, just to hear your answer. The answer to this question was more real than you wanted to admit. Warnings: Tiny bit of self-doubt, idiots to lovers. Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (think it could be read as GN but just to be safe) Word Count: 2.7k

“Would you fuck my clone?”

The question, asked as casually as if he were inquiring about the weather - though, to his defense, he’d asked weirder - rose above the sound of chainsaws emanating from the television and earned a confused frown as you spared him a sideways glance.

Eddie’s attention remained mostly on Leatherface, chasing unsuspecting victims, but you caught his curious glance as you laughed. Those were the first words spoken in over an hour, certainly a record for your verbose best friend, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“What?” From his position at the end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and head lolled onto the cushions, he shrugged. “It’s a simple question. Would you fuck my clone?”

A beat of silence passed, in which you realized this was one of those moments where Eddie wouldn’t let the question go until he was given a satisfying answer, and you sighed. “I don’t think that’s the question, Eds,” you countered. “Isn’t it usually, ‘would you fuck your own clone’?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a scoff, Eddie finally sat up and turned his full attention to you, screaming teenagers and chainsaws forgotten now that he had something better to capture his attention. “That one’s boring,” he reasoned. “We know all the arguments. This is a different question, new arguments.”

“I think we’re fine without arguing,” you teased, reaching for the nearly half-empty bowl of popcorn. “Just watch the movie, Eddie.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as a look you couldn’t quite recognize flickered across Eddie’s face. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it was covered with a raised brow and a teasing grin. “We’ve seen it a hundred times already. Anyway, what I’m getting from this is, you would fuck my clone. Interesting.”

Eddie did little to hide his amusement as you rolled your eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “I didn’t say that,” you argued, despite yourself - despite knowing that you were walking into a conversation you weren’t yet sure you wanted any part of.

A hum, unconvinced, met your ears as he reached for the bowl and plucked it from your hands. “Okay,” he prompted, ignoring your outraged huff. “So, tell me. Would you?”

There were a handful of ways you could respond to his probing. The first, shut down his question with a point blank refusal, phrased as a light-hearted joke that did little damage to his ego and even less to your already fragile nerves. The second, play into his game and debate the pros and cons of sleeping with his clone, the ethical ramifications, the conversation he clearly wanted. Or, the third, admit to him a fact that you’d concealed since the summer of 1984.

Any way you could have him, real Eddie or clone, you would take it.

That was, solidly, not in the lead. So, you opted for the second approach.

“Jeez, Eds,” you sighed, stealing popcorn from the bowl now resting on his lap. “I don’t know. Maybe,” you conceded. “Depends, I guess. Is he, like, total you or some weird, kinda fucked up clone? Like, is he totally evil or incapable of coherent thought or, I don’t, off somehow?” As an afterthought, you joked, “More so than the real you, anyway.”

“Rude.” There was no bite in the declaration, only a fond amusement that made your chest ache, but you did your best to ignore it as he hummed. “Clone’s a totally normal, complete carbon copy. Everything about him is exactly the same, down to the last hair.”

“So, no aspirations to rule the world or become, like, the next Leatherface?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s my backup plan, you know, if music doesn’t work. So, guess it’d be his, too,” he admitted, only breaking into laughter when you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “Seriously,” he relented, “nothing weird. Just another me. Everything you know and love, times two.”

With a sigh, you lifted your legs onto the couch and hugged your knees to your chest. “Then… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the screams still echoing from the television. “Maybe?”

“It’s a yes or no question, babe,” he reminded you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he studied you. “Shouldn’t be this hard.”

That look, the one that you had difficulty placing, returned and despite your uncertainty as to what it was, you were certain that you didn’t like it very much. Doubt, or maybe hurt, were the closest emotions you could identify though neither made much sense to you in the moment.

Still, rather than ask, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of this conversation?”

There was none, it was just for fun - a debate, like the thousands of others you’d had over the course of your friendship - and Eddie said a much as he shrugged. “Isn’t one,” he declared, offering you the last handful of popcorn. “I just want to know if you’d fuck my clone.”

When you refused, he returned the bowl back to the coffee table before reaching for your ankle. With a gentle tug, he encouraged you to rest your feet on his lap as his fingers began to tap a beat that only existed inside his head against your skin. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie shrugged once more, though this time, he glanced at the television rather than you as he answered. “Because I asked and you always answer.”

“I do,” you relented, sighing as you also spared the screen a glance. “Well, what’s the right answer, then? There has to be one.”

This time, he shook his head as the tapping of his fingers grew a touch faster. “Right answer’s the true one.”

For a moment, you simply studied Eddie. His side profile, bathed in the warm glow of the television, was the picture of concentration as he watched a scene you’d seen a thousand times before. Only, you knew him well enough to see the telltale signs that he was in no way paying as close of attention as he should’ve been.

The slightest tick in his jaw, the quick bite of the inside of his cheek, the delayed blinking; all signs that he was waiting more intently for your answer than he wanted you to believe.

Rejection - no matter how hypothetical - never seemed possible when it came to Eddie. So, you sighed and conceded, “Okay, fine. Sure, I’d fuck your clone.”

Eddie hummed, seemingly unsurprised and feigning nonchalance as he nodded as if the answer confirmed something he already suspected. And there were a thousand ways in which you expected him to respond; none of which could’ve compared to him declaring, “So, you’d fuck my clone but not me.”

Again, rejection was not an option. However, you had no intention of admitting to him that you’d wanted him for years. There was no world in which you could see yourself admitting to him that you thought he was beautiful - with his doe eyes and playful grin. Telling him how you felt would likely end in an awkward silence at best and a ruined friendship at worst.

So, you opted for a careful denial. “What? I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not saying anything to the contrary,” he countered, turning his head to spare you a cursory glance. There was something there, beneath the amused glimmer in his eyes, that unnerved you - something far more serious than you were expecting - but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

When you shot him an unimpressed glance, cutting your eyes at him before returning your attention to the television, he shrugged, teasing grin never faltering. “I never said that. I answered a hypothetical and you’re reading into it.”

Eddie met your perhaps too sharp denial with a raised brow as he gave up the guise of watching the movie. “So, am I wrong?”

“Would you stop putting words into my mouth?” You huffed as you reached for the bowl of popcorn, desperate for something to distract yourself from making a confession you knew you would regret. “I never said that. All I said was that I’d fuck your clone, I answered the question.”

“Okay, fine. You never said you wouldn’t fuck me but it’s never happened. Never even sort of, almost, maybe happened,” he reminded you - as if you needed it. “So, you would fuck my clone but not me. Why?”

“Because we’re friends, Eddie,” you shot back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “I’ve known you since I was ten.”

The excuse sounded weak in your own ears, but it was all you could muster without breaking down and confessing that you would, in fact, sleep with him. If only he’d ask. If only it wouldn’t destroy your friendship. If only it was that simple.

Still, Eddie was relentless. “But my clone would have all my memories, totally the same person,” he reminded you. “He’d be your friend, just like me. But you’d fuck him. So, why not me?”

“This is stupid,” you huffed. “Why do you care?” He’d never pushed so hard, not in pursuit of a hypothetical question meant to pass the time, and you were genuinely curious why he seemed so interested in your answer, or your lack thereof.

“I’m a naturally curious person,” he argued, shrugging as he squeezed your ankle. “It’s just a stupid hypothetical. C’mon, why would you hypothetically fuck my clone but not me?”

There was little doubt in your mind that he would continue pushing until he got the answer he was looking for, especially as it seemed that he’d already made up his mind that he was right, so you shifted yourself in a huff. With your legs now hugged to your chest, eyes on the television to avoid meeting his gaze as you admitted in a snap, “God, okay. I’d fuck your clone because it’s the closest I’d get to being with you without actually destroying our entire relationship. Happy with that answer?”

“What?” Eddie sounded genuinely surprised and you could feel the warmth of his gaze burning into your skin as you purposely kept your gaze on the television.

“If your clone is you, all your memories, your mannerisms, your looks, I’d fuck your clone because then I’d get to see what it’s like to be with you,” you admitted, words escaping despite every fiber of your being telling you to be quiet. “I’d get everything without the risk of losing you when I fuck it all up.”

Eddie shifted closer then, careful to keep a few inches of space between you but no longer nestled into the opposite edge of the couch as he tipped his head to get a better glimpse of your face. “What do you mean, when you fuck it up?”

Frustrated tears - at admitting a secret you swore would follow you to the grave, at allowing him to get under your skin when he was simply asking an innocent question, at allowing yourself to get so worked up over something so simple - stung at the backs of your eyes as you huffed. “I’m… you know me, Eddie. I don’t,” you sighed, cutting yourself off, before taking a deep breath. “I’m prickly. I don’t do well with romance. I freak out and run,” you reminded him. “Even if you felt the same, if we worked out enough to not have our friendship go down in flames, there’s still a chance I’d fuck it up and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to run from you.”

“Hey.” Eddie shifted even closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and sighed when you refused to glance at him. Regardless, he exclaimed, “That’s why we’d be different.”

“What?” Of all the things you expected him to say, that was the last. With furrowed brows and tears still lining your lashes, you tipped your head to glance at him. “Why?”

“Because,” he began, meeting your eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, “when you try to run, I know what you’re doing. When you get all weird or try to push me away, I know it’s not really you wanting me to go. I know you. I get you, just like you get me.”

“Eddie.”

Of all the ways you’d expected him to react, of all the ways you expected him to acknowledge your feelings for him, returning them was not on the list. For years, you’d convinced yourself that there was no way he would return your feelings, there was no way you would ever be able to acknowledge those feelings without losing your best friend, and there was still a deep-rooted fear that, despite his seeming certainty that his understanding would make a difference, any attempt at a relationship would only end in heartbreak.

That didn’t seem to matter to him as he pressed on. “I’m serious. It’s us,” he continued, this time reaching out to press a hand to your knee. “It’s always been us, always will be us. There’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. Not now.”

“You can’t know that,” you sighed, though it was nowhere near as confident as you hoped it would be. “We can’t see the future.”

“We can’t,” he agreed. “Not yet, anyway, but the nineties seem promising.” When you rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a smile, he laughed. “But that’s the fun part. We do our best to make our own future. It’s always going to be together, might as well come clean and really be together instead of making ourselves miserable pretending.” Before you could respond, offer another half-hearted refusal, he pressed on. “What do we have to lose?”

“Everything.”

Eddie shook his head, completely unconvinced that anything bad would come of allowing yourselves to try. “I don’t believe that. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“How can you be so certain?” You wished you had an ounce of Eddie’s certainty, his true belief that the pair of you could make it, but you were skeptical. Neither of you had much luck in life, neither of you had much outside of one another, and losing him would be far too great.

However, you were tired of pretending that a shared future was not what you wanted.

The possibility that your future could go up in flames, that you could destroy the best friendship you’d ever had, worried you. It kept you awake at night. But now knowing that Eddie felt the same, that he wanted the same future you did, there was no way you could turn him down.

For all your fear, for all your hesitance, saying no was not an option.

“Because we’ve been in love for years and nothing bad has happened yet.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer he could give, as if it made all the sense in the world, and if you really stopped to think about it, it did.

“Can you promise me something?”

Eddie shifted ever closer, nodding easily as you reached for his hand. “Anything.”

“Can you promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends? Even if we don’t work out, if something happens, promise me that we’ll still be there for each other.”

“I promise. Nothing hypothetical about that,” he agreed, corner of his mouth lifting when you offered a soft smile.

The moment stretched around you, nothing existed outside of the pair of you as Eddie tugged you into his side. It was easy, natural, and you melted into his touch despite the fear lingering in the back of your mind.

There was a brief worry that this could be a mistake. That allowing yourselves to intertwine your futures so thoroughly would only end in heartbreak, but he was right. For as long as you could remember, it had been you and Eddie. There was nothing that had managed to wedge you apart yet. And pretending had no guarantee of working in the long term.

So, you decided to dive in to the deep end and allow yourself to truly fall. There was no situation, real or hypothetical, in which he would allow you to hit the ground.

No matter what, you knew that he would be there to catch you.

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I spent my entire day in meetings. All the meetings. So many meetings. I also have a dentist appointment on Wednesday and I am Terrified. So have this.

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#stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #v's fics

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beardedjoel · 7 months

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sugar rush

joel miller x f!reader

event masterlist prompt: your desperate neighbor, joel miller, runs out of candy for the trick-or-treaters and comes to you. it turns out you've both been keeping a secret from each other; 4.7k words warnings: mostly cute fluff and pining, makeout sesh, they stay flirting, joel miller is a gentleman *saluting emoji* a/n: loved writing a fluffy little piece for my ppcu darlings for this event, happy halloween and i hope everyone enjoys all the fics we've been writing for you all!

The last thing you’d wanted was to do something extravagant for Halloween this year. You watched friends planning to go out to parties, ones with kids plotting all their family costumes. But what you really want is a peaceful night in, passing out candy and eating popcorn with a scary movie in the background, spending time in your own cozy cocoon. Work has been relentless the last few months, stressful and draining, and you’re happy to just relax with candy stolen from your candy bowl for the trick-or-treaters.

The first hour of little ones comes and goes, all of their costumes more adorable than the last, getting a chance to quickly catch up with some of your neighbors as they pass through. It’s just the evening you wanted, you convince yourself once again as you listen carefully to your popcorn in the microwave to make sure you don’t overcook it.

You feel a twinge deep inside, maybe some kind of loneliness hitting you while you feel the emptiness of your home pressing in on your heart. You’d not been having the best luck with dating recently, you knew that, and refused to believe the real reason was that there was someone you were interested in, but didn’t have the heart to pursue it. So instead, you had spent the better part of this week persuading yourself you were happy to spend the holiday by yourself, to get this much needed alone time.

You silently thank the universe when your doorbell rings again, bringing you out of your thought train that was heading towards a swift derailing into depression. You put on a smile before whipping the door open, expecting another group of kids dressed to the nines. Instead, your eyes flick up from child height to your neighbor, Joel Miller. He’s standing in a faded black band t-shirt that’s hugging his biceps, and when you finally pull your eyes to his face, it’s adorned with a shy little smile on his lips. His hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it a few too many times today, tousled and sticking up, and his tan skin looks somehow stunning in the shitty light of your porch. How he manages to look this good all the time baffles you.

“Joel? Um, hey,” you stutter out awkwardly, hoping he can’t see that your cheeks now feel like they’re burning as they always do when you meet his intense, chocolatey gaze. “Here to trick or treat? I’m not sure what your costume is, though.”

Joel chuckles, his face lighting up and you feel your insides warm at the fact that you made him laugh. “Wish I was, but no. I actually, er…” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I ran out of candy, was hopin’ I could…” he says, the last part more quiet, half hoping you didn’t hear his embarrassing confession.

“Oh, y-you need some?” you reply, fidgeting your fingers in front of you. You glance over at your candy bowl, still over half full - you tend to go overboard on most things, and this was no exception. Anxiety had taken over you in the grocery store aisles and made you a different person, filling your cart with way more candy than accounted for kids in your neighborhood.

“I figured, y’know, think I might know ya best around here, and well, your light was on. The McCarthy’s don’t seem to be participatin’ this year.”

You have a flurry of emotions - amusement at Joel’s predicament, excitement that he’d chosen to come to you, and absolute screaming, jumping up and down joy that he’d thought he knew you the best of all his neighbors. The outside of you nowhere near matches the inside as you just give him a sweet, reserved smile.

“Those cranky bastards,” you say with a chuckle that Joel reciprocates. “Well, come on in, you can have some of mine. It’s kind of slowed down the last little while, though. But feel free to take whatever you need. Lord knows I don’t need this much leftover candy in my house tomorrow.”

“I’d kinda like to see you runnin’ around your lawn with a sugar rush, though,” Joel teases as he steps inside and you close the door behind him. Your brows raise slightly in surprise - Joel seems in an uncommonly great mood tonight. Not that he’s unkind, by any means, he’s just not typically the most chipper person you’ve ever met.

“Not so funny when I crash and pass out and you have to drag me back inside,” you quip back to him, and his smile goes a little crooked, which sets your heart jumping inside your chest. You’d been harboring a bit of a crush - okay, more than a crush, you admit to yourself - on your neighbor for a while now, too afraid to say anything about it, or even flirt too forwardly most of the time for fear of rejection. You figured he was just a nice guy, and you had helped each other out in a pinch a few times, attended a few of the same barbecues, or waved as you passed by. You’d fallen more quickly for his gorgeous little accent and rugged looks than you’d cared to admit to yourself, and these feelings didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon. You’d even started to wonder lately if the reason your dating life hadn’t been the most lively and successful was that you were still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, Joel felt the same way about you.

“Might be kinda a good look for me - neighborhood hero an’ all, savin’ you,” he says, his smile growing a bit.

You roll your eyes playfully, feigning hurt. “And at my expense? That’s cold, Joel Miller.”

Joel laughs and holds up a small bag he’d brought over, hoping to take home his spoils. He’s filling it when the doorbell rings another time, and you start a little, so caught up in watching his broad, muscled form moving. You rush over to open it to a few small kids standing outside, not over the age of eight or so, all screaming TRICK OR TREAT! You laugh heartily and greet them all, gushing about how perfect their costumes are. You hold out your bowl of candy to them, letting them choose what they’d like and they all giggle at your compliments and little jokes.

Joel has stopped to stare, enamored with your sweetness in this moment, how good you are with the kids. Hell, Sarah is much older than these three little ones, but he’d seen how good you are with her, too. She seems to adore you, asking after you any time it’s been a while since she’s seen you. Joel’s lips tug up into a smile, just now noticing how cute your Halloween pajamas are - black bottoms with little jack-o-lantern’s printed all over them and a black tank top. Now that he was noticing, he tries not to bite his lip when he sees just how tight the tank top is, how well it hugs your body as it slides up along your back a little when you bend down towards the kids’ level.

You wave your goodbye and turn back to Joel, face glowing from the big grin you’d put on for the kids.

“So cute, right?” you say, hiking a thumb over your shoulder towards the front door.

“Miss that age,” Joel murmurs before he can stop himself. He promised himself he wouldn’t wallow too much tonight, and here he was telling the first person who had the misfortune of talking to him. Sarah chose to do a sleepover at a friend's house tonight, the first Halloween she was spending that didn’t involve Joel. Sure, they’d done the pumpkin patch and carved them after, apple picking with Sarah fulfilling her promise to bake Joel an apple crisp, and watched some of their favorite scary movies together. It still hurt that his little girl was Trick or Treating in another neighborhood without him tonight, maybe one of her last ones ever as she neared those teenage years.

“S-sorry, didn’t mean -” Joel starts, cutting himself off from the deep thoughts he’d tumbled into.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Sarah’s got plans tonight, I take it?” you ask, sincerity and compassion sparking in your eyes. Joel finds himself dangerously close to falling into those two pools, your sweet soul shining through as you look at him.

“Mhm,” Joel replies, scratching a hand through his beard. “She uh, wanted to do somethin’ at a friends’. Don’t blame her, just… y’know, one of those things.”

You give Joel a sympathetic half-smile, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Joel. That is tough. I’ll bet she’s feeling a bit sad about it too, even if she’s having fun.”

“Better miss her old man at least a little bit,” Joel replies, trying to lighten the mood.

“Old man? I don’t see any old men in here,” you say, gazing around the room with a fake curiosity, your brow furrowed. Joel spits out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Too kind, darlin’. For that, and the candy.” He holds up the bag full of candy and starts towards the door. Your heart lurches every time he throws out one of his Southern little pet names, and you have to forcibly keep your face neutral as you bask in it. “Well, uh, thanks. I owe you,” Joel finally says.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth and worry with it as Joel’s hand seems to inch towards the door in slow motion.

“W-wait,” you say, before you’ve even realized the word has left your mouth. “I was watching a movie - would you want to, um, stay and watch with me? Pass out candy together?”

Joel blinks a few times, and you feel your stomach sink, until he breaks out in a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing a bit.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Oh,” you nearly start, mostly having expected him to say no for some reason. Maybe you just haven’t accepted the fact that Joel does seem to enjoy your company as much as you do his. “Great,” you flash a smile, gesturing over to the couch. You walk over and sit down, and Joel follows closely behind, peering around at your setup.

“Popcorn ready and everythin’,” Joel comments with an impressed whistle, settling onto the couch next to you, the distance between you enough that you’re hoping you can stay focused on the movie. His warmth radiates though, his broad shoulders looking so damn big, fuck, on your couch and his legs spread open as he relaxes back a bit. You try to make your shaky exhale as discreet as possible before grabbing the popcorn bowl from the table and plopping it between the two of you.

“What are we watchin’, then?”

“Killer Lake 3. oOooh,” you tell him, wiggling your fingers in an attempt to make it sound creepier, but Joel just laughs and shakes his head at you, running his fingers over tired eyelids.

“Ain’t seen that one yet, makes me kinda nervous, that uh, whole series,” he admits, and you kind of like the idea of knowing something small and intimate about him, something vulnerable.

“Me too,” you admit, holding back a chuckle, your hand over your mouth.

Joel sits forward, shooting you an incredulous look. “And yet you were watchin’ this… all alone in your house?”

“It’s called living on the edge, or something,” you reply with a laugh. “Besides, not alone anymore, am I? I’ve got a victim to suffer with me.”

Joel huffs and crosses his arms. “Just play the damn thing before I can chicken out.” He settles back again, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him as he never fully relaxes, his body taut while he keeps his arms tucked into each other. You find yourself hoping that at least part of the reason he seems tense is he’s just as nervous as you are to be sitting so close on the couch together, able to feel the heat of each other’s bodies, the scent of the other person permeating the space. You try not to breathe in too noticeably when you catch the smell of him - musky, a little outdoorsy, and something else a little less like his natural scent, an aftershave or deodorant. It’s all equally intoxicating, you think to yourself, trying not to let your brain become too muddled by it.

The doorbell rings several times while you two are watching, each time you and Joel pause the movie to coo over the little trick or treaters together. You feel your heart flutter at the thought of those who don’t know you two, who would think you’re just any other couple living together. Your insides are nearly bursting at the thought, not realizing just how badly you’d wanted that with Joel, this sweet domesticity. Now that it was within your reach, a little taste of it playing over in your mind, you don’t know how to go back to how things were before this night.

The movie still isn’t finished when 8:30 hits, but you get up to turn the porch light off, signaling the end of the trick or treaters for the night. Joel stands up awkwardly in your living room, hands fiddling in front of his belly. He clears his throat and glances at the carpeting before he looks back up to you.

“Love to stay, and finish the movie off, if that’s alright,” Joel offers before you can even say anything, and you nod eagerly. “Couldn't leave you all alone with this scary shit now.”

“My hero,” you tease, calling back to your earlier conversation. You clasp your hands over your heart with a grin, and Joel chuckles, rubbing his neck.

When you two sit back down, you start to realize that every time you've gotten up from the couch to give out candy and sat back down, you and Joel have gotten a little more comfortable, bodies less rigid and tense, able to sit a little bit closer to each other. You realize you’ve barely been paying attention as the movie plays again when Joel makes a sound at something happening on the screen, so you try to focus so he can’t tell just how affected you are by his presence or how lost in thought you are.

“S-shit,” Joel calls out, jumping a bit in his seat, clutching his chest with one hand. The other one flies over to your thigh, where he holds on for dear life, squeezing you there. He quickly pulls it off, before you can even fully register it, trying at the last second to memorize the feeling but coming up short, too stunned to even believe that it really happened. Joel seems to tear his gaze from the movie, both of his hands clutched in his lap, fiddling nervously.

“I’m - uh, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Just got me jumpin’, didn’t mean to, well…” Joel stutters out, gesturing to your leg. You’re sure if the room was more light, you’d see a flush creeping over his cheeks. He can’t believe he’s embarrassed himself in front of one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever known, one he’s sure is completely out of his league. It hasn’t stopped him from being excited to see you every time he’s had the pleasure of getting to have a conversation with you or simply see you pass by his house on a walk or run. He’s in deep, he knows it, and now he may have just ruined his chance to reveal his feelings to you the right way.

“Oh,” you say plainly. “It’s totally fine, I nearly did the same thing,” you say with a chuckle, trying to laugh it off.

You feel the skin on your thigh buzz beneath your pants where his hand had been for that brief second though, and your heart doesn’t seem to be interested in calming down its incessant thundering. You want more, you want to feel his hand back right where it was, the strength of his arm slung around your shoulder, his touch nearly anywhere on your body. You’ve never been alone with Joel this long and it’s starting to get to you, sending your mind reeling.

That brief touch suddenly has you gathering up your courage, so you turn your body to face Joel a little better and breathe in deeply.

Now or never.

Your heart thuds harder and your stomach tightens into knots, but you strengthen your resolve and square your body a little, trying to give yourself a false confidence.

“Actually…” you say, clearing your throat quietly. Joel’s attention quickly snaps from the television back to your face, and you nearly lose any semblance of bravery at his gaze locked so firmly on yours. “I didn’t mind, at all. If you wanted to do that again, or anything like that, uh, maybe,” you tell him, cursing yourself for stumbling on your words, for making it sound so unsexy to ask him to put his hand on your thigh.

You pull your lips inward and press them together, sure that your widened eyes are giving away the complete terror you feel as you await his reply. It feels like years creep by of his face looking completely taken aback until you see the corner of his mouth twitch up, his eyes starting to go a little softer with a twinkle in them.

“What, like, uh,” Joel clears his own throat now. “Like this?”

His hand slides over from his lap, much slower and intentional this time, landing on your thigh, right above your knee. It feels like heaven - his grip firm and protective but also soft and caring at the same time. His fingers flex a little, giving away his nervousness before he settles on a few errant rubs of his thumb.

“Yeah” You give him a toothy smile. “Like that.”

“Wouldn’t mind one bit if you wanted to hold onto me, an’ all that. Since the movie’s so scary, ‘course,” Joel says, sounding more bashful than you’ve ever heard him with his voice lowered.

You feel yourself smiling wider and wider, your face nearly feeling like it’s going to crack soon with the excitement you feel. Joel’s own heart is fluttering more than it has in ages and he wills it to calm down before he gets too excited about his crush, for Christ’s sake, simply cuddling with him.

“Of course, since the movie’s so scary,” you tease, biting your lip anxiously. You tentatively scoot closer to Joel, pressing your thighs flush with his as you curl up on the couch, tucking your feet up next to you on the opposite side. You bring your hand up to his bicep, wrapping it around the muscle before gingerly laying your head onto his shoulder. Every movement feels a little stiff at first, testing these new and exciting waters with each other.

Joel lets out a quiet hum of satisfaction, one he’s not sure that you heard until you sigh lightly in response and his heart leaps along with yours, the two of you tensely holding one another. Joel feels you start to relax first, your attention half back on the movie, and he takes the initiative to let go of some of his own tension, letting his hand wander a bit more on your thigh.

By the end of the movie, you and Joel are entwined together, his arm slung behind your shoulders, your hands clasped together and palms sweaty from the intensity of the film and being so close to each other. You’ve migrated onto the top of Joel’s chest, resting your head there. Joel thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as he keeps getting delicious whiffs of your shampoo at that angle - a scent he tries to burn into his memory for when this evening inevitably ends.

When the credits start to roll, neither of you move, not wanting to break whatever spell it seems the two of you are under. Joel reaches for the remote, turning the movie off before tossing it aside and resting a finger under your chin. He gently pushes, urging you to tilt your head to look up at him. The little, curious noise you let out at his touch makes Joel’s insides instantly turn to fire, his body tensing up and muscles going taut. Just the touch of his calloused finger under your soft chin has a heat licking up your spine, then settling deep inside your gut.

“This was nice,” you murmur, now looking up at him and blinking slowly. He can hardly believe that the look in your eye - the starry, eager, content look - has anything to do with him. His eyes drift down to where your lips look so pouty and inviting right now, parted slightly as you wait to hear from him.

Joel leans forward a little, sliding his fingers up from your chin to your cheek, cupping it softly. He brushes his lips across yours, so lightly you can barely feel it at first, sensing his hesitancy. You meet him in the middle, and you can feel the smile on his lips as they meet yours in full, pressing into you with a romantically soft kiss. You moan wantonly into it, having wanted and dreamed of this moment countless times. Your hand cups his face in return, gently scratching your fingers through his beard and he lets out his own satisfied groan now before pulling away.

“That okay?” he asks quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Joel,” you say, your own voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting that to happen for like, almost a year now, so yes.”

Joel blinks hard in surprise. “That long?” he asks, his tone going lower with suggestion as his brows quirk a little. He keeps his hand on your cheek, rubbing along your jawline with his thumb.

“Mhm. That long,” you murmur with a nod, closing the small gap between your faces once more as you press your lips into his. You make a small moaning sound deep in your throat and barely pull your lips off of his to utter feels nice.

Your enthusiasm urges Joel on, a quiet groan making its way out of his throat as he deepens the kiss, sliding his hand from your cheek up to the back of your head and burying it in your hair. His fingers along your scalp feels so heavenly that you can’t help the satisfied mewl that comes out of you.

Joel’s hands start to explore a little more, curving down your back with a firm touch, his fingers tracing along your spine. You nearly shudder and then gasp when his calloused pads find their way underneath the bottom of your tank top, touching bare skin now, the heat of his hands blazing into you. You can feel how heavily you’re breathing already, the tension building and nearly unbearable. It feels like a dream, this moment you’d thought so much about happening, wishing for his touch and his lips and his body just like this. Your hands wrap around his neck to keep him pulled close, desperately trying to keep this moment from slipping away from you.

He surprises you by lifting you onto his lap, hands enveloping your plush hips as he tugs you over to straddle him. You gladly and willingly move your body along to where he guides you, settling on top of his lap with your heart beating out of your chest. It all feels so natural but has you giddy, nearly jumping out of your skin with the quickening pace of your kisses. Your bodies meld to one another effortlessly, your hips sinking down further into his lap as you grind a little into each other.

Every movement, touch, and synced breath is pure bliss as you two continue devouring everything the other is putting out, tongues dancing with one another and now swollen lips pressing into each other. All the pent up longing and burning desire coursing through you now has an outlet, and you try to hold back a moan that pushes up through your throat to not seem too desperate, but Joel beats you to it, a little groan slipping past his lips. He pulls away slowly, peppering the corners of your mouth with a few kisses before slowly opening his eyes, now gazing at you with a heady, half-lidded look. You meet his expression curiously, your heart still thundering as you lazily scratch along the back of his neck.

“W-would it make me look like a complete idiot if I said,” Joel starts, keeping his hands steadily wrapped around your hips, fingers still splayed all the way to your ass. “I wanna take y’on a date before we go any further? Know it’s old fashioned, but…”

You laugh quietly, sincere and sweet, at his honesty and apprehension, watching his cheeks reddening and mouth a little agape as he awaits your reply. You palm his chest with your free hand, spreading your fingers out and brushing them dotingly across the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Not at all,” you tell him, your voice coming out a little cracked, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, savoring the way they mingle so quickly into yours without hesitation. “I think I’d like that, too,” you add on, giving him an encouraging smile.

You see him breathe out, shoulders sagging in relief while his mouth twitches upwards. “Good,” he sighs, “‘Cause I really wanna take you out, darlin’. Been wantin’ to…” he says with a lopsided smile now, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Maybe I’ve been wanting to, too,” you tease, leaning your head down to rest on his shoulder, snuggling into him, letting the moment become comfortable, any expectations on the two of you lifted for now.

“Couldn’t tell or anythin’, by the way you hopped on top of me,” Joel jokes, breaking the tension even more. It feels like any other day, now, like you tease each other while you curl yourself up on his lap all the time. It amazes you how little discomfort or awkwardness you feel right now around Joel despite the major shift in your relationship only moments ago.

“You pulled me up here, you ass,” you quip back, lightly hitting him on his other shoulder.

“That I did, sugar,” he says more sweetly now, kissing your forehead, warm and sticky. “Wanna go out w’me this Friday, then?” he asks, and you pick your head up to smile at him, tenderly curling your fingers around his cheek, still getting used to the feeling of touching him so freely.

“Friday? Not sooner?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip and trying to give him your best version of sweet, pleading eyes.

“Eager, are you?”

You kiss him again in reply, letting your tongue slip into his mouth again and he meets it hungrily with his own, his hands snaking around your back to your ass and squeezing the globes greedily. You can feel his arousal, pressing hard where your warm heat meets his, thighs gripping around his legs tightly. He has to practically tear himself away and you can see the mischief in his dark eyes growing by the second.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, a little breathless now. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” You slip off of his lap and plop next to him on the couch again, stifling a yawn now that you’re coming down from the quick boost of adrenaline your make-out session with Joel had given you.

“I should head out, but…” Joel says when he notices your tiredness, putting a warm hand on your thigh. “I’m lookin’ forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you reply with a wide grin. You stand up from the couch with him, walking to the door together with your fingers brushing, not seeming to want to be without the other’s touch.

“Pick you up right here at 6:00 tomorrow, yeah?” Joel stands in your open doorway, lingering on shifting feet as you nod in agreement. He leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, this one feeling just as new as the others and you instantly lose yourself to it, breathing in his scent and memorizing the feel of his plush lips on yours for the final time tonight.

“Goodnight,” you say quietly, planting one more peck on his cheek, wiry stubble around his beard tickling your lips. He ambles down your walkway, and while you’re admiring the view, leaning against your doorframe he turns back, giving you a sheepish, crooked smile.

“Hey,” he says, stopping where he stands. “Happy Halloween, darlin’,”

You can’t help the smile that bursts onto your face, your heart soaring at the adorable pet name, the locks of Joel’s hair sticking out in all directions, and the near puppy dog eyes he’s giving you right now. This right here, this Joel Miller is one you know not everybody is lucky enough to see, and you’re so grateful you’re getting a glimpse of it tonight.

You lift a hand and wave as you step back inside and call out to him.

“Happy Halloween, Joel.”

dividers from saradika !

#halloween event #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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justatypicalwizard · 6 months

Text

A scrap from your book

Bakugo x reader, aged up, college! au, quirks don't matter, no warnings, just heartwarming

Roommate Bakugo who is forced to share a room with you for about three months due to unexpected construction works in the college apartment he occupied. The whole Bakusquad was moved to random rooms. To make it worse they were all shared ones. You agreed to take in a male occupant.

Roommate Bakugo who tries to spend as much time outside of the cramped college room as possible. He feels like he's kinda invading your privacy as well as just finding the whole situation uneasy.

Roommate Bakugo who has to complete a bunch of assignments but the library is packed in the late afternoon hours, the air thick with gossip, stress, sweat and annoyance. Bakugo finally wandered off to the dorm room to find some peace for his work.

Roommate Bakugo who spotts you always turn off your lamp and tune down the brightness on your laptop when he tells you he's going to sleep.

"You don't have to do that." He grunts, already wrapped up in heavy covers.

"I don't mind, you do the same." Because he does.

Roommate Bakugo who walks on you watching a film he loves. At first he just circles the small room mindlessly, more interested in the unwrapping dialogue between his two favourite characters than the laundry he's picking up.

"You wanna watch?" You ask, pausing the movie.

"No. I was going to do my laundry."

"I can wait, I can buy some snacks in the meantime, I was looking for an excuse to do it anyway."

So the two of you ended up finishing the film together, sitting on your bed.

Roommate Bakugo who talks to you more, geting used to the situation faster than he thought he would. You both sit by your desks working on the boring college stuff. He spotted you were trying hard, not slacking around and keeping most of your deadlines. Even if he didn't want to admitt it, he was impressed. Not that he didn't do the same, it's just rare to find a person who actually cares.

Roommate Bakugo who didn't know how to phrase a sentence. He was working on a piece of paper for the last two hours after an intense day of workout and his brain refused to cooperate anymore.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Your face appeared from behind your laptop screen.

"Depends on what is it."

"I finished a short essay and I wanted to ask if you could read it and tell me if it makes sense."

Might as well take a break to refresh his mind. Bakugo read through the text and came to the conclusion that you were a good writer. A very good writer in fact.

"How would you say that in other words?" He asked after you were happy with your work, your laptop tossed aside as you lay on your bed scrolling through your phone.

You skipped to him, read through the sentence and gave him a paraphrase, one that he wouldn't think of himself.

"Thanks."

Roommate Bakugo who was eying you book collection for some time. You had a bunch. When he asked the two of you started talking and in went on and on and on. Finally, you stood up on your bed, the sheets dipping in where you stretched out to reach the highest shelve. Picking out a book you handed it to him.

"My favourite."

So he started to read it.

Roommate Bakugo who got a text from you that you wouldn't be back in the dorms for the night. After a shower he laid down in his bed, shirtless, with your book in hand. It was definitely worth it and he was way past the half already. Suddednly the doors opened only to reveal you, eying him up and down.

"The fuck you doing here?" Suddenly Bakugo felt a tad bit embarassed about his bare chest and lose sweatpants.

"My friend cancelled, sorry, you have someone over?" A small sly grin appeared on yoru lips.

"Jeez no, I'm just half naked."

"I don't mind." You shrugged, throwing your bag on the bed.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Nevermind. Bakugo wanted to get back to the story when he spotted something horrific. His hand gripped a nice chunk of the page, torn out of the book. He must have done it when you startled him with the grand entrance. It was readable as he only torn the cream white but it still looked nasty.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He didn't even look at you, opting on eying the damage, embarassement creaping up his cheeks for destroying someone's else belonging. One of yoru favourite belongings.

You came over, looked at the book and started to laugh.

"What's so fucking funny?" From embarassed Bakugo quickly merged into defensive.

"You look as if you killed my grandma. It's just a book." You saw that it didn't make him feel better, in fact the frown in his brows deepened. "I like my books being used. Lets treat it as a memory of you reading it. Give me the torn piece, please." Your hand reached out and he put the scrap into your open palm.

You skribbled something down on it using a pen fished out of your drawer. When you gave it back to him, the paper read 'Don't stress so much, dummy.'

"You can keep it." A smile brightened your face as you turned around to do other things.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that he kept that scrap in the back of his phonecase at all times.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that it took you roughly two months to steal his rock-like heart away.

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #mha

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morganwrites12672 · 9 months

Note

HII!!! I loved ur grayson hawthorne fic could you plss do another one like where they talk to eachother and its just fluff and really cute :) Like him doing romantic things and literally agreeing to everything she says

Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I love getting to write for grayson. Tagging my Inheritance Games mutual @speaknowlinasversion

Reader Info: Female!Reader

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"Do we have to get up?" You groaned as Grayson sighed. He had been trying to convince you to get up for the last half an hour.

You were sprawled across his bare chest, your hands playing with his hair. He was loving every second of spending the morning in bed with you. But, he had things to do.

He could easily move you off of his chest, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do it. He closes his eyes as you continued threading our fingers through his hair.

"Love, we need to," he said and you frowned. "But a few more minutes wouldn't hurt," he said and you smiled. God, Grayson was addicted to your smile.

He would do anything for you. From watching the same movie every Sunday night to kayaking (he refused to go with anyone but you, because he did not care for kayaking but he loved making you happy).

"You can't say no to me can you?" You asked with a smile and Grayson groaned. You both knew the answer. It was physically impossible for Grayson to say no to something unless it had the possibility of injuring you.

"I think you know the answer," he said. His blonde hair shone in the early morning light as the sun started peeking through the curtains.

"So that means we can watch The Hunger Games again tomorrow night?" You asked with a smile and he laughed.

"I would do anything that would make you happy," he said. And it was true. Making you happy was his favorite thing to do.

From picking up breakfast from your favorite cafe when he woke up before you to making sure Xander saved you a blueberry scone. Grayson did everything he could to make you happy.

Getting to see the smile on your face from the little things made everything in his life seem okay. Even when things were falling apart, your smile kept him grounded.

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fanfiction #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson hawthorne x reader #the inheritance games #inheritance games #jennifer lynn barnes

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ellephlox · 2 years

Text

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly.

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days!

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit.

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice.

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted.

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background.

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said.

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice.

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left.

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants.

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point.

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon.

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward.

Barefooted.

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass.

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow.

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet.

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” you croaked.

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open.

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point.

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day.

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.”

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying.

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air.

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”.

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there.

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth.

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more.

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye.

Blood. In the mucus.

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears.

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you.

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately.

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own.

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath.

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants.

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving.

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text.

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him.

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s.

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #MCU #hurt/comfort #reader #reader insert

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spif-lol · 7 months

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Reasons why the simpsons hit and run stream is jerma's best stream

it's ELEVEN HOURS LONG

you get to witness his slow descent into madness as he insists on playing the whole game in one sitting

I can watch it when i replay the game, would recommend makes it way more enjoyable

he spends too much time doing really bad impressions trying to copy voice lines for the game and yelling "HIRE ME IM AVAILABLE"

He decides to confess half an hour in that he knows nothing about the simpsons and has only seen like one or two episodes

this is ten minutes after he references a specific episode, and then proceeds to get told off for 'spoiling' an episode of the simpsons (from like 1995) by chat

Chat also somehow manages to convince him that ten year old boy Bart Simpson's famous catchphrase from everyone's favourite family animated tv show is 'eat ass'

In general it switches between him refusing to believe things people tell him about the game despite being true and falling for obvious lies

he starts the game going 'lol wouldnt it be funny if you could run over simpsons characters' and then jokingly drives towards civillians thinking they'll jump out of the way. they go flying. he is so confused

the dissonance between early and later parts of the stream are palpable. It turns from a cheerful and lighthearted exploration of a funny simpsons game that he refuses to take seriously or accept that it could genuinely make him angry, and transforms into a desperate race against time, his computer and his own hubris as he seeks simply to finish the game so he can sleep. This stream destroys him.

the way the stream highlights are named on his youtube is hilarious. "Jerma will not get angry at the simpson's hit and run" -> "Jerma might get a bit angry at the simpson's hit and run" -> "d'oh"

it's extremely funny how many time he's convinced he's in the last level of the game, only to be wrong. the first time he thinks that is in the first section and hour of the stream

easily his most rewatchable stream (this is gonna cover a lot of dot points)

the amount of tragic irony and foreshadowing in this stream is almost cinematic.

at the very start of the game he complains about the music being too loud and monologues about sounds and over stimulation of game music bothers him, which of course will be very funny in the finale

he also comments a few time at the start about how annoying homer's random voice lines are, and says 'oh god he's gonna repeat that a thousand times before the end of this game'. he's right, and it nearly drives him crazy by the final mission

speaking of the final mission(s), the second time he has to transport the toxic sludge from power plant to the school he like pauses the game and very seriously addresses chat like 'alright tell me right now are the next three levels also me driving the nuclear waste to the school that cant be possible right'. and then just accepting in defeat that that is in fact how this incredibly stupid and difficult children's game finishes

when he first races against the malibu stacy car and gets destroyed he gets mad and says he wishes he could drive that car. then when he gets to drive it in later levels he quickly decides its his favourite and maintains that until the end of the game

on rewatch... you hear him audibly crack open a can that chat demands he prove to them is soft drink and not alcohol like A WHOLE HOUR before The Incident and it's a little like watching a disaster movie where you see the characters laughing and having fun little knowing how they are being hastened towards their own doom... like chat keeps bugging him about it, he keeps making excuses, he keeps sipping the drink. they bring attention to it so much and you listen to it just knowing the pain that is yet to come. dramatic irony at its finest and most heartache inducing

15. ohmyfucking gaaaawd no! no... god... ICANDOITINAJUMP! ..... BART. WHERE IS HE??? BAAART!!!! AAAUUGH

16. actually fr there's a lot of memorable jerma lines in this stream, rewatching it is like watching a jerma funny moment compilation

17. the final couple of levels where he is getting steadily more overwhelmed to the point of ferality, and then he says he has an idea and goes to the sound menu and turns everything off. voice lines. music. sound effects. and then we watch him play the level in complete silence. and it actually helps him focus its really funny

18. the whole tragic sequence where he is in the FINAL LEVEL. he has played it so many times and just missed it by a few seconds. he is tired. he is hungry. he just wants to get off stream and eat a BURGER. he is focussing as hard as he can. he is almost there. he runs over too many things and the police are after him. but its okay. he's doing it! he's gonna make it!!! he gets to the school with time to spare and is sucked up into the end of the game beam. it's over. except then the police get sucked into the beam as well. he gets arrested in the beam. which teleports him and the car out of the beam. WHICH MEANS THE TIMER RUNS OUT AND HE LOSES. so he has to do it all over again. it's actually so so so funny and also something i think i personally wouldn't survive if i was in jerma's position in that moment

19. okay we have to talk about The Incident. bc i already alluded to it and bc like, i couldn't not talk about it. as stated above Jerma cracks open a can so you can hear it and chat immediately accuses him of being an alcoholic. he adamantly insists that it is a soft drink not a beer but they refuse to believe him unless he proves it by showing camera. he's playing on a modded ps2 pc port or whatever of the simpsons so it's a complicated setup and he explains that it would be too hard and also he's shirtless so they will just have to believe without seeing. chat continues to harass him while he goes on to play the game, specifically most of the lisa level. he laughs it off but eventually caves, gets up and get a blanket to cover himself and then alt tabs, holds his can up to the camera and says 'alright you satisfied? that might have just fucked up the game'. so then he tries to tab back into the game and it. crashes. hard. so hard that the game won't actually turn back on. so jerma's cursing and fiddling with the controls and saying its over. then it finally reboots and the game works and he's so relieved and it loads and he realises that he has lost SO MUCH PROGRESS. he's back at the start of the lisa section. this is truly the turning point of the game where it goes from being a fun experience to a nightmare gauntlet

20. on a related note: jerma waiting with bated breath *sound of simpsons game booting back up after refusing to for far too long* jerma: yeeeAAAAAH

21. im watching it right now as i replay, which is why im thinking about it obv. so i will almost certainly have more to add to this

#jerma #obviously jerma dollhouse and so on streams are probably the most iconic but simpsons hit and run is like #wonderful in a completely unplanned way #I'm also partial to his house flipper streams #if just for the bits and being a space for jerma to create the most insane things imaginable with only the slightest prompting from chat #vaguely unrelated: when my housemate got home and saw me playing simpsons hit and run while #rewatching jerma's stream at the same time they said that think if someone analysed my brain #and exposed a different brain to my content consuming process their brain would explode #so mean....#i was also listening to one of the jay eazy megaman remixes at the same time. my awesome mind

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woso-fan13 · 10 months

Text

Rough Day

Today has been a rough day. There wasn’t any one big thing, rather a whole slew of somewhat minor things.

You should have known it was going to be a bad day when your alarm went off. You could have sworn that you had hit the snooze button, but you must have hit the off button, because the next thing you notice is the sun coming in the room while someone’s pounding at the door.

Because of your impromptu lie in, you had missed breakfast. Thankfully, Tobin had slipped you a granola bar when you got on the bus. You took one bite of it before realizing that this granola bar must have been older than you and disgusting even in its prime. It quickly found its way into a garbage can.

And, because nothing was going your way, it of course had to be fitness testing day. It’s part of your job and it’s a privilege to be able to play amongst these girls- but you still absolutely hated the beep test. You spent your morning doing sprints and drills on any empty stomach.

Finally, there was a break for lunch. And with all of the love and respect in the world for the nutrition staff, it was not good. You managed a few bites of it before sliding it away and grabbing a bottled smoothie and a piece of fruit. You would have done all of the fitness tests again for a peanut butter sandwich, but you knew you would have been told off for not following the team diet.

Then came afternoon practice, which was actually pretty great, until the end. In the last half hour, you got to scrimmage and you almost scored a beautiful goal. Except Kelley took you out before you managed to and clipped your ankle. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it still hurt.

Dinner was fine- it was definitely better than lunch. Nothing really special happened, which was probably a good thing at this point. You just had to make it through dinner and team movie night before you could go to bed. Hopefully, everything will be better tomorrow.

But, because you were living in a nightmare day, of course movie night had to go wrong. Some of the youngsters kept insisting on a horror movie, which you were vehemently against. You hadn’t said anything before, not wanting your teammates to think you were a baby. Well, more of a baby. They already made fun of you for the fact that you were just barely old enough to drive, you didn’t need them thinking you weren’t old enough to watch a scary movie.

But, today, enough was enough. You couldn’t handle one more thing not going your way, so you stood up for yourself.

“No,” you whispered before saying loudly, “no.”

Your teammates all looked at you in shock, surprised by the fact that you had raised your voice.

“Aww, c’mon, Y/N,” Sam said, “please? It’s not even that scary.”

You shake your head, “no.”

“Don’t be such a baby, it’s just a movie,” Sam responded.

And then you broke.

“N- no. I said no. No, I don’t- I don’t want it. No no no.” You’re crying at this point, a rushed mess of refusals. You’re sobbing, gasping for breath as your words become unintelligible.

Your teammates are stunned, unaware of your bad day that had led to this point. Over 20 pairs of eyes are staring at you, unsure as to what to do.

Finally, Tobin comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around you. You freak out, fighting to get out of her arms. She simply holds on tighter, picking you up from the bed. It’s not a comfortable position for either of you, but she wanted to get you away from the crowd who was watching your breakdown like it was a movie.

Tobin looks at Christen before nodding her head at the door, the other woman getting up and holding the door open for Tobin to wrangle your uncooperative, fighting, breathless body out into the hallway. Christen pulls the door shut and Tobin puts her back to it, sliding down with you still in her arms. On the other side of the door, Kristie is laying into her sister.

You’re sitting between Tobin’s legs, your back to her chest. One of her arms is wrapped over your arms and torso, keeping them locked down. Her other hand is on your forehead, holding your thrashing head still and pressing it into her shoulder. She’s cooing softly into your ear, coaching you through your breathing and murmuring sweet things.

“Big breath in, good, hold it, okay, big breath out. You’re doing so well, kiddo, another big breath in and hold. Good, good, and let it out. You’re okay, you’re safe. Breathe in, hold. I’m so proud of you- let it out- so, so proud of you. Just keep breathing, I’m not going anywhere.”

As Tobin coaches you through your breathing, Christen sits on the floor across the hall. She’s not quite close enough to touch you, giving you space. She’s sitting cross-legged, calmly breathing and watching. She watches as your fighting slowly lessens, eventually becoming limp in Tobin’s arms. You’re breathing evens out, and- a few minutes later- your tears stop.

You’re so tired, but you’re finally calm. Tobin relaxes her grip slightly, no longer containing you but keeping the reassuring pressure. You turn slightly, burying your head into her neck as you hiccup. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s warm, it’s dark. It’s okay.

You’re unaware how much time passes before you feel a gentle hand settle on your head, running gently through your hair. You knew it couldn’t be Tobin, both of her arms still firmly wrapped around you.

You take your head out of your safe place, still resting it heavily on Tobin’s shoulder. Christen is crouched in front of you, a soft frown on her face. You had been so wrapped up in your head that you hadn’t realized that she was there. You hadn’t even realized that you were no longer in the room with everyone else, but you can bet that you have Tobin to thank for that.

Christen gives you a small smile, moving her hands to rest on the sides of your face. Her thumbs rub gently, brushing away the tear tracks. She doesn’t release her grip when she’s finished, just keeping your head in her hands for a minute and staring at your tired face. Your eyes were red and puffy, giant bags under your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says softly, “I think you’ve had a hard day.”

You stay quiet, only nodding slightly. You feel Tobin press a kiss to the top of your head, reassuring you.

Christen nods in response, standing up. Once on her feet, she reaches down for you. You reach up for her, allowing her to hook her hands under your armpits and pull you off of the floor and into her arms. Your arms and legs wrap around her, your tired head resting on her shoulder.

Tobin scrambles up from the floor and heads toward their room. You don’t pay attention as they walk past your room, Tobin opening their door and holding it as Christen carries you in. You were beyond exhausted at this point, and when Christen tries to set you on the bed, your grip tightens. She chuckles, sitting in the bed as you cling to her. She keeps one arm wrapped around you, the other rubbing your back.

Tobin comes over a minute later, holding a pair of pajamas. The two women quickly help you into them, the clothes swamping your body. You’re still sitting on Christen’s lap, leaning heavily against her. Tobin has settled next to the two of you, the three of you quiet.

You’re almost asleep when Christen makes a move to shift you to lay on the bed. You whine, and she instantly readjusts you into her lap. Your breathing slows down, your body completely relaxed for the first time in a long time.

Christen looks over to where Tobin is watching you closely, as if something’s going to happen to you.

“She’s okay,” Christen whispers, reassuring her. “She’s going to be okay, we’ve got her.”

#uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #uswnt imagine #woso imagines #reader insert #uswnt players #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso soccer #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic

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shawty-writes-a-little · 8 months

Text

Study nights

Alex turner x wife!reader

Summary: Dad!alex does math, goes terrible wrong, hurt comfort

Word count: 3k

Warnings: cuss words? Math with dad ptsd?

Notebooks and eraser dust were laid out all across the dinning table on a Saturday night, Alex was helping his seven year old son practise some basic math. “Three times five?” Alex questioned with a sigh as he crossed his arms, it had been over an hour and half by now.

“Uh-umm-“ James paused for a minute going through the table from the top to get to five, “Fourteen?”

“No” Alex exhaled rubbing his eyes “You’re close try again.” He said, both their patience wearing thin at this point. To James, his dad was a free pass for all mischief. Playing in the mud, ice cream very late at night, watching superhero movies, playing pretend superhero-basically everything his mum refused him. However in this moment James was one more question away from calling for mum.

“13!” James said confidently but the exclaiming tone faded with his dad’s frown.

“You know this James, just when we got started you knew the whole table, come on no try again.” Alex said sternly.

“I don’t know” James said furrowing his brows, in general like all kids did he hated math and had a saturation point, he had far reached it.

Alex got the hint that the boy was just being stubborn out of annoyance to do math now, he made him repeat the table after him twice and wrote some multiplication sums for him to practise. Just the fourth sum and James had tears brimming his eyes, he was too frustrated to continue solving sums. He could perhaps get out of it if he cried. “James you know this won’t fly with me.” Alex said.

“I want mumma I don’t want to do math with you!” James said pointing a dramatic finger at his dad as tears streamed down his face along with anger residing on his nose.

“You can cry all you want young man, I’ve got all night you’re not leaving until you finish this worksheet.” Alex spoke with a shrug not phased with the crying as he picked up the pencil James threw out the table. “Come on.” He said as he tapped the pencil on the worksheet for James to continue.

James too was too headstrong to submit and also too tired to do the worksheet anymore, “I won’t!” He sobbed even more so dramatically, as if Alex had unleashed hell upon the seven year old.

“Go on…throw your tantrum. Like I said I have all night we are not going anywhere until you finish this.” Alex said sternly, however just seven James knew eventually he’d win this with his ultimate rescue.

“Mumma!” He cried out for his mom loudly, who was just upstairs, unaware of the happenings of downstairs.

James kept on calling for her, “Your mumma is not going to finish this for you alright?” Alex said sharply as he crossed his arms he was responded with a rather loud screeching from James who was just as stubborn, it was a matter of who wins this tantrum now.

Rushing footsteps followed down the stairs along with y/n, “what is going on here?” She inquired however as she walked to the dinning table and saw the math worksheet she was quick to put it together.

At the sight of his mother, James cried even more to reflect the torment his dad inflicted upon him while doing maths, “Dada-“ James cried pointing at Alex very frustratedly and then hugged his mom.

Y/n shared a look of disappointment with Alex as she rubbed James’s back, “it’s alright” she said as James continued to cry.

“He’s throwing a fit on purpose you know” Alex told y/n irritatedly as he shifted in his seat on the dinning table, “typical.”

“Alex.” Y/n said furrowing her brows, she knew this tantrum throwing to get out of math was common for James, however she knew the last thing the boy needed was getting told off again “hey…hey take a deep breath” y/n instructed as she wiped his tears, “it’s alright.”

“Dada—he-he called me stupid-“ James said with a shrill cry hugging her mom again. As he frantically pointed at Alex on the dinning table.

“No I didn’t!” Alex defended crossing his arms leaning forward on his seat “I said he was being stupid.”

“He also called me a-a—little widiot!” James exclaimed, he sure did remember a lot for somebody who was forgetting the multiplication tables he did every night Alex thought to himself.

“You’re not an idiot James” y/n cooed as she coddled the boy in her arms, trying to soothe his crying. This was very unlike Alex, he was generally the more patient parent between the two of them whenever it came to dealing with James’s tantrums. With school work, alex and y/n had divided subjects, James was just in first grade so it wasn’t a gigantic academic burden however the arts and crafts assignments weren’t really y/n’s cup of tea. That is why Alex did them with James, quite frankly it seemed he enjoyed those. The father son duo were always found laughing and having fun in the living room on craft nights, perhaps math together wasn’t their thing.

“He’s overreacting I didn’t even say that much and he knows that you’ll soothe him making me look like the bad guy—which is exactly what he wants!” Alex reasoned pointing with his hands to assert clearance but frankly both Alex and James seemed having the same tantrum in different.

“And which one of you is 37?” Y/n shot back sharply as she carcasses James’s hair and soothed his crying. This would take a while and she didn’t want it to escalate longer so she took James up the stairs to his room. Y/n comforted James a bit more as Alex was left in a sour mood at the dining table down there, awaiting a bit of reasoning himself.

After some time she came back downstairs again, which didn’t seem to be such a long time, it didn’t take more than a few toys to distract a seven year old. However y/n’s 37 year old was a bit more stubborn, “What the fuck Alex?” She spoke, annoyed but patiently.

“What?” He replied with a scoff locking his jaw, a bit frustrated from the math facade himself and that y/n didn’t take his side. That kept him from admitting any guilt.

“Why do you do math with him if you don’t have the patience for it?” Y/n asked as she took the books off the table, along with the mess of pencils. Couldn’t really stand so much mess.

“It’s not about patience.” He spoke maintaining a mild tone unfolding his arms to be expressive of his frustration “Y/n, we’ve been doing multiplication together for over an hour, he makes the same mistake of adding the multiplication sums when there’s a carry forward one. And he purposely says tables wrong? When we started he knew what was 3 times 5 but just now when I asked him he said it wrong?!”

“That is exactly what you need patience for!” Y/n exclaimed pointing her hands to the air to exaggerate obviousness.

“No” Alex shook his head for a moment, “I am patient. He just thinks he can get out of studying if he throws a tantrum and that’s exactly what he did…and he’s successful thanks to you!”

“He is seven Alex.” Y/n said sternly “James does math with me and cries too, it’s not politics he is seven and has a capacity.” She spoke, it wasn’t unlike for the little boy to throw fits given math was, well, math.

“That is actually your fault. You have him believe that if he cries and has reached the end of his capacity of doing math he’ll get out of it.” Alex said with a shrug and air quoted ‘capacity’.

“That’s not true.” Y/n spoke as her eyes brows squinted together in a frown, “When he cries, I let him have his moment help him calm down and we try again unlike you-“

Alex stopped her midway already aware what she was going to say, “unlike me what huh? The bad guy?” He spoke making a sarcastically dramatic face. He believed that y/n had this perception of Alex being a bad guy whenever he was even remotely firm with James extremely contrary to how he usually was. He just tried to do what he’d seen y/n do. It seemed that y/n could get james to do math and clean his toys and all those seven year old revolving chores but since he was always the parent who he had more fun with, Alex being even a bit serious had two of them take it out of proportion. “Me trying to be a serious parent doesn’t make me a bad guy.”

“Who is saying that?” Y/n asked completely confused wherever that came from, he’d just spew to this conclusions of other people’s perception on him in his mind “Literally? I never even said that-“

“I know but it’s just that every time I try to be serious we always have this conversation as if only you’re entitled to it.” He reasoned to his wife. He didn’t particularly ever enjoy being the serious parent, he’d rather read James a story book and do silly voices with all characters in the book than make him do math. If it were upto Alex every day would arcade Sunday for him and James.

“But there is a certain way Alex.” Y/n sighed taking a slant across him at the dinning table, “You can’t just berate him to do math.”

“Oh please-“ He scoffed throwing his head back, he wouldn’t put that big of a word on it.

“No no don’t dismiss it. You calling your seven year old a little idiot for getting addition sums wrong? You know what that makes you?” She asked tilting her head.

“What?” He answered with an exhale already knowing it’d be something witty.

“A big idiot.” Y/n said with an unapologetic shrug.

“Are you serious love come on” Alex rolled his eyes at her crossing his arms again, sometimes y/n could really tell where James got all his dramatic mannerisms from.

“Yes, look, you and I weren’t Einsteins when we were seven. He is just doing all of this for the first time, you have to be patient, if you call him names he’ll just hate the subject and also studying with you.” Y/n reasoned softly as she saw Alex’s stubborn frown soften a bit, “And he has his own frustrations too you know? He calls Caleb from school his number two best friend because his number one best friend is you. this other day there was this silly thing with Caleb, they had to pick partners for this one game in their class but Caleb didn’t pick James for his partner so he was a bit upset about it and then you, his number one best friend calls him a little idiot?”

Alex’s face softened and was soon immensely regretful of it, he was often a part of first grade drama debrief but he’d probably missed this Caleb one, even if it hadn’t happened Alex still felt remorseful of even talking to James in the wrong tone. With a sigh he deadpanned his face with both his hand, “I feel awful, fuck, did he really call me his number one best friend?” he and looked at y/n again taking his hands off his face for a quick second.

“Yeah…” she sighed, James and Alex…both her big heart big tantrum boys. She hated seeing either upset, she shifted from her seat to Alex’s barely situated into his lap yet when Alex already had his arms locked around her waist. He felt bad for being dismissive to her a few moments ago too when she was trying to be the voice of reason, y/n smiled softly interlacing her fingers with his “Look it’s alright…everybody has their moments. As did you and it doesn’t make you any less of a best dad in the world. Yes you’re maybe a little rigid, but that’s fine you were only trying and it came from a good place just not the right way. There are no tags on being a parent, you are a wonderful one who��s James’s number one best friend.”

Alex hummed, deeply comprehending every word she told him because it did do a bit to make him feel slightly less worse, he got over his insecurity of being the unserious parent, she was right about having no tags on being a certain kind of parent. There are no proportions to it and he felt stupid for feeling as such. He looked at y/n for a moment just in awe of how someone could he so excessively understanding. He didn’t even have to voice his feelings out exactly but it’s like she caught them unsaid, “I am sorry…” he trailed off, looking down at their intertwined hands and his other by her waist holding her close. The domesticity of her made him feel so grounded. “Thank you for this—seriously you are life’s biggest gift to me and then James, he is your biggest gift to me. Being a dad, it’s my most cherished thing. Even that I do it wrongly sometimes but you’re here, showing me the right, thank you, y/n truly.” He spoke as he leaned forward a bit planting his lips onto hers, lengthening the kiss as he held her face with his hand.

“You are welcome.” She said as the smile on her face as she pulled away. Her smile only brightened with what he told her, running her fingers fingers through his hair as he held her close, “You’ve got some apologising to do to a certain someone too yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded with a firm urge to make amends, even if James was seven. Alex wasn’t going to let his small whims go unattended, especially when he was at fault.

Softly knocking on James’s room to announce his presence Alex opened the door in a bit as the boy sat on the rug playing with the Legos. Sitting down next to him Alex took a few legos in his hands too but James was quick to take them away. Someone knew well to hold a grudge. “Hey buddy.” Alex said softly letting go off the legos not wanting to offend James.

James just let out a loud and dramatic huff, letting his dad know he’s still upset. “I don’t want to speak to you!” James said with a shrug and turned to the side with his back facing his dad.

“Well…” Alex trailed off and got up to sit in front of James again, folding his legs “I am not here to speak to you either.” Alex said masking the boy’s attitude “Did you know mumma called me a big idiot because of you?”

James stifled a giggle and continued the upset face act as he didn’t look up at his dad, showing his affronted mood “Mumma never lies” James said still playing with his Legos.

“Ouch.” Alex chuckled a bit at the boy’s sass but couldn’t really blame him “probably deserved that one” he mumbled. “I just came to speak to my number one best friend.” Alex stated as James looked up at his dad, his dropped face instantly brightening up, “was wondering if he’d be interested to be my pillow fight partner against mumma…” Alex trailed off with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes I’d be interested!” James exclaimed almost immediately, his number one best friend voluntarily wanting to be his partner in a game really countered petty first grade school drama and math frustrations for him.

“Oh you would?!” Alex asked matching his enthusiasm and held him up in his arms, throwing him to the air once, making James burst into laughter “Can I ask you for a favour? Forgive me? I am really really really sorry for what I called you, I made you cry and I feel so awful about it.”

“It’s alwight dada!” James shrugged with a giant smile, children were so easy to make amends with it was so sweet.

“Did you know when I was your age I couldn’t even remember 8’s table. Ask grandma…it was so difficult for me. But you? You are the smartest boy I know! I mean you do some addition problems so fast I can barely keep up!” Alex told him enthusiastically.

James’s face was graced with a giant smile as he jump hugged his dad out of joy. Alex felt at peace as he held James in his arms tightly with his one hand caressing his hair. He looked up to find y/n leaning by the doorframe and smiled even more, “I see someone’s made up.” Y/n remarked at the sight.

The two pulled away and shared a mischievous look to their partnering up of pillow fight against y/n, having been in this situation before y/n knew some mischief was brewing up against her. “Hey hey now” she stood straight in an alert stance “don’t you even dare boys!” She exclaimed, as the night ended in pillow fights leading to tickles leaving the house full of laughter.

HI! If you gave this a read, thank you <3333

Feel free to request something, feedback is always appreciated!!

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader fluff

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chronicrabbit · 2 years

Text

A Very Steddie Christmas

Listen. I had an idea.

It’s post-Vecna. Steve and Eddie are friends. Eddie has had a hopeless little crush on Steve for years, yada yada yada. The usual shit. You get the picture.

It’s mid December and Steve Harrington is hyped up for Christmas.

Steve had always been a Christmas fan. He lives for it; the tacky decorations, the twinkling lights strung up on every tree and house on the block, the joyous atmosphere, the warmth of a good cup of cocoa on a snowy Hawkins night.

Everything.

Steve loves Christmas, even more so now that he has a Family™️ to share it with!

So when he overhears Eddie talking to Gareth about how he’s:

“Never had an actual Christmas”

he knows his services are needed.

He makes it his mission to give Eddie Munson the best Christmas ever, despite Robin’s teasing looks and Dustin’s frown of confusion.

He starts it all off with inviting him over to decorate inside and out, mostly because he doesn’t particularly want to do it himself and Robin point blank refuses when he asks her.

It’s not the funnest holiday activity, but the end goal is worth it; that’s what Steve’d always thought, anyway.

The Harrington’s were not terribly festive people, but they were deeply prideful and competitive, so naturally there were about five shelves in their sizable garage packed full of lights, tinsel, baubles, and other more expensive pieces of decor purchased by a fuming and wine-drunk Claire Harrington after a single and very passive aggressive conversation with Mrs. Thompson across the street.

Steve and Eddie work for hours, ending in tinsel littering every available surface, a bent gutter from a very close call with the ladder, and a declaration of hatred for string lights, but the huge grin on Eddie’s face is undeniable as they stand side by side, clinking together their hideous holiday mugs of eggnog and rum as they survey the impressive product of their hard work.

It looks amazing.

Mrs. Thompson, eat your heart out.

His next step is to bake his Nonna’s red-hot cinnamon snickerdoodles, the ones she’d sneak him every Christmas when he was a kid before his parents decided visiting was too much effort, and to watch a few Christmas Classics.

The cookies were meant to be a surprise, but Eddie shows up an hour and a half earlier than he’d said he would with the movies Robin had set aside for him and finds Steve in the kitchen, hair pinned back, glasses on, and red knit sweater covered in flour despite the apron tied around his waist.

He finds he doesn’t so much mind the change of plans as he and Eddie dance around the kitchen to George Michael, Eddie grabbing the batter covered wire whisk for a compelling performance of “Last Christmas”, a song he very clearly knows none of the words to.

Once the cookies are safely tucked away in the oven, they make their way to the couch, sitting nice and close for extra warmth as “It’s a Wonderful Life” begins to play.

Eddie talks through the entire first part of the movie, and when they return from the short break they take to retrieve the cookies from the oven and divvy them out between the two of them along with two cups of steaming hot cocoa, he talks through the rest through his mouthful of cookie.

Steve’s never enjoyed that movie more.

The third step is a bit more of an impromptu thing, because when Steve wakes up to see a fresh layer of beautiful powdery snow on the ground, he basically has no choice but to round up the party for the worlds most epic snowball fight.

Eddie complains at first, but quickly changes his tune the moment Mike manages to nail him directly in the face with a snowball.

He leaps into action with a declaration of:

“Oh it’s on, Wheeler!”

No matter how much Dustin swears you can’t win a snowball fight, Steve and Nancy definitely take the victory that day between her killer aim and his brutal throwing arm.

They split up into groups after the fact for some more snowy day activities.

El, Max, Nancy, and Steve build a little snow family together, Mike, Lucas, Will, and Robin work exceptionally hard to craft a nice sturdy fort with packed snow and ice (they write out actual equations and dimensions that make Steve’s head spin), and Erica, Dustin, Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle make a serious of increasingly more ridiculous snow angels, ending in the five of them just tackling each other over to see what shape it makes.

Everyone stays out until their fingertips and noses are bright red and numb, finally giving in and heading inside once the sun starts to set and fresh snow starts to fall.

They clamber into Steve’s house, bundling up in blankets and huddling in front of the fireplace together to watch, much to Steve’s chagrin, the He-Man Christmas Special from the year before that Dustin had recorded over an episode of Night Court (Claudia was still upset with him over it).

And he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend he didn’t know how close he was sitting beside Eddie on the couch; close enough that their shoulders were bumping together with each breath.

He also couldn’t pretend he wasn’t enjoying every single time Eddie would turn to face him, to share in the excitement of whatever was happening on the screen.

Steve hadn’t watched a single second of the movie, far too focused on the dimples that appeared whenever Eddie smiled that big sunny smile, or the crinkles that appeared likewise around his big brown eyes, or the small freckle just over his lip…

Oh.

Well…

He’d have to adjust his plan just a little.

With that new information tucked safely away in his mind, his next step became very clear. Thankfully, he didn’t need a different gift idea than the one he’d already come up with, perhaps just a different method of delivery.

………

It’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve when he knocks on the door of Eddie Munson’s trailer, the only one in the park with a complete absence of Christmas decorations or, at the very least, a wreath or something.

Eddie answers with that heart stopping smile, dressed in a blue sweater Steve is 90% certain he snatched from Robin who stole it from him some time last year.

He doesn’t give Eddie much time to greet him, holding out a small green bag with a red bow.

“What’s this, Steve?”

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together, his smile not quite dropped, more slanting into a look of gentle confusion.

“It’s a present. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so…”

Steve does a ‘here we are’ motion with his hands, pushing the present towards Eddie once again.

The movement seems to reactivate Eddie, who pulls Steve into the warmth of his living room with a shiver.

“You got me a present?” Eddie inquires the moment the door was closed behind them, protecting them from the bitingly cold air.

“Of course. Can’t have Christmas without the gifts, can you?” Steve laughs.

“Christmas,” Eddie repeats after him a bit dubiously.

“Yeah, I suppose you can’t,” he shrugs, as if he doesn’t know.

“Exactly, so!” Steve extends the bag towards Eddie once again, shaking it enticingly.

Eddie’s nose scrunches in that way it does when he’s very carefully considering something.

“Steve. As much as I appreciate the constant stream of hot cocoa and holiday cheer you’ve been bombarding me with for the past week, I gotta ask. What gives? Why are you doing all this?”

Steve sighs.

“Well, I…” he starts, licking his lips as he tries to sort out his jumbled thoughts before continuing.

“To tell the truth, I overheard you telling Gareth that you’ve never had a real Christmas before. I… I’ve always loved Christmas. It’s the only holiday my parents would stay home for- well, up until I turned 16, that is. So, I guess I just… wanted to give you one. A real Christmas, that is.”

Eddie presses his lips together into a thin line, his usually open expression strangely unreadable as he considers Steve closely.

He nods when he seems to come to a conclusion, reaching his hands out towards the little bag and clenching and unclenching his fingers as if to say:

“Gimme.”

Steve smiles and hands over the gift bag, his stomach turning somersaults like an Olympic gymnast.

Eddie tears through the tissue paper, sending it flying to litter across the carpet, until his fingers find the occupant of the bag; a single Polaroid.

He fixes Steve with a raised eyebrow before letting his eyes fall back down to take in the picture.

“Alright,” Eddie nods as if he’s trying to understand a joke, mirth-filled gaze landing back on Steve over the Polaroid.

“Ok, Stevie. Very funny.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that overtakes his own face.

“And it’s all yours,” he assures him, playing into the playful tone as he watches Eddie survey the snapshot of the guitar; a BC Rich Warbeast with a glossy black body and a cherry red flame motif.

“I’ll cherish it, Big Boy,” Eddie snorts good naturally, pressing the image to his chest with a dramatic little sigh.

“I sure hope you will,” Steve nods.

“It cost me most of my savings up front, and I still have payments to make on it for the next few months.”

Eddie eyebrows scrunch together at that, that puzzled look from before returning to his face as he pulls the picture back up to take a closer look.

“Steve, wha- this… is this in your living room in this pic- Did you…”

Steve watches as several emotions crossed Eddie’s face; confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, and then, finally, understanding.

“Steve…” he says in what’s barely a whisper, Steve leaning in a bit closer to hear him.

“Did you… did you actually…”

He can’t seem to finish the sentence, so Steve takes it upon himself to answer him.

“I know you’ve been missing your old one. It’s not the same, but it’s the closet I could find and it’s waiting for you under the tree at my place. I had to drive all the way to Indy for it, and it’s not new, but I checked it out and it’s only lightly used. The scratches were easy enough to buff out, and Jeff helped to make sure it was-“

Steve grunts at the sudden impact of a body against his, warmth flooding through him as Eddie wraps him up in the tightest hug he’s even been given in his life.

He can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him, sputtering as some of Eddie’s hair gets in his mouth. He winds his own arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him somehow closer and simply breathing him in.

“You are unbelievable,” Eddie breathes as he gives him a solid squeeze before pulling back, though he doesn’t relinquish his hold on Steve’s shoulders.

“So, I’m guessing you like it?” Steve asks through his smile.

“Like it? Stevie, I… I could honestly kiss you right now! You’re damn lucky there’s no mistletoe here, or else-“

Eddie’s words die out as Steve digs in his pocket, pulling out and raising up high above their heads a little sprig of mistletoe with the most charming smile he can muster.

He prays his nerves don’t show through as Eddie’s eyes meet his, wide with shock as they flicker back and forth between them and the mistletoe.

“Damn lucky,” Steve says, his tone steady with resolve even as his hand shakes.

In the next second Eddie’s lips meet his and it’s everything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

It’s everything every single cheesy little Christmas RomCom promises.

Magic.

When they finally part, both breathless and dazed and smiling like complete idiots, Steve tugs Eddie in close by his pilfered sweater.

“So? Was this a good first Christmas?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise up and he honest to god giggles.

“Considering Christmas is tomorrow, I’d say it’s a pretty solid start.”

Steve allows himself a very John Bender-like fist pump, much to Eddie’s amusement as he pulls him into another kiss.

“As sweet as this is, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers against his lips, hands fisting in the fabric of his sweater to hold him nice and close, which is lucky considering how hard Steve swoons at the word “sweetheart”.

“I feel the need to ask.”

“Anything,” Steve promises, nudging Eddie’s nose with his own as he presses a couple more gentle kisses against his grinning mouth.

“You know I’m Jewish, right?”

………

I might turn this into an actual multi chapter fic. Let me know if that’s something y’all would want!

#no Steve did not know that #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #Steddie #jewish eddie munson #I’m so glad that’s a tag #steve harrington/eddie munson

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anton-luvr · 6 months

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can you do watching scary movies with riize

# WATCHING SCARY MOVIES WITH THEM ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | fluff | bf au ⚝ note ; thank u for requesting anon!

# SHOTARO. - he's so excited!! he's always loved watching scary movies, and he can't wait to watch one with you. there are times where he gets scared, but he'll just let out the cutest and softest 'ahh!' and look at you with eyes wide with surprise and a smile of bewilderment. the post movie discussion will go on for hours, until he's finally exhausted and falls asleep in your arms.

# EUNSEOK. - unbothered king will just be :| throughout the entire thing. even when the most horrendous monstrosity of a ghost-monster-villain pops up on screen and gobbles up the movie characters, he barely bats an eye. will tell you the movie wasn't that bad afterwards because he's absolutely unfazed.

# SUNGCHAN. - like shotaro, he's so excited too!! prepares a whole pile of snacks and cuddles up warmly beside you to watch the movie, giggling at the funny parts and squeezing his eyes shut at the scary scenes. also gives the most dramatic reactions, from glass-shattering screams when there's a jumpscare to him leaping off the couch in disbelief when the villain's identity was revealed in the end.

# WONBIN. - this was such a bad idea. he's scared, you're scared, everyone's scared. will literally glue himself to you and refuses to let go throughout the entire movie. each jumpscare and appearance of a ghost has him squeaking out in fear and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. even after the movie ends, he will refuse to go anywhere or do anything without you, and you end up having to hold his hand while he showers.

# SEUNGHAN. - he loooves scary movies. will be watching with 100% focus throughout the entire thing, eyes wide and shining with fascination and entertainment. there are times where he'll jump from a scary scene, but it's immediately followed with him mumbling a 'oh my god that was so cool???' in complete awe. if you're scared, he'll just cover your eyes with his hands and continue watching himself.

# SOHEE. - he's not going to be scared, or at least that's what he tells you before the movie starts. but after about half an hour of confidently sitting at ease, his nervous hands slip into yours. when you tease and ask him about it, he'll protest with a 'what? i just wanted to hold your hand, that's all', but his shriek of fear a minute later says otherwise.

# ANTON. - he tries so hard to not be scared, it's kinda funny. strides into the cinema with confidence but his hands are slightly shaking, tells you it's 'just a stupid horror movie' but edges closer to you in his seat with each passing minute. the façade he puts on doesn't last long, because he'll be asking you if you could leave ten minutes into the movie. gets super embarrassed afterwards, but your kisses reassure him that it's okay.

taglist : @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt (drop an ask to be added to my taglist!)

#sarah's 400 ! ☆#riize #riize fluff #riize fics #riize drabbles #riize imagines #riize reactions #riize scenarios #riize anton #riize sohee #riize wonbin #riize seunghan #riize eunseok #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize x reader

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karasuno-writings · 1 month

Note

Hallo from your neighbourhood lurker I have but a simple request for our lovely bois and I can’t get it out of my head so I decided to put it into yours dear author,

I would like headconnons of them sleeping, let me elaborate I want sleeping hcs like what would it be like to sleep next to them and so on

What would be your nightly routine with them, I would like to request for these hcs for the following bois, iwa, bokuto and tendo

TLTR: sleeping hcs with Iwa, Bokuto and Tendo

Thank you for reading

Have a good day/night

From your local neighbourhood lurker

SLEEPING IN - IWAIZUMI, TENDOU AND BOKUTO

Hello friendly neighborhood lurker jejeje; I LOVED this request so much, I adore joint night routines and there is something so lovely about waking up on a lazy day next to your loved one, thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it!!

I’m also so terribly sorry for the delay! Last week was busier than expected and coincidentally I’ve been tired out of my mind due to lack of sleep jejej

I recommend you listen to “Sunday morning” by Maroon 5 because a lazy morning with these boys would definitely sound like that!

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

Iwaizumi is very disciplined and his daily routines are no exception, and once you come into the picture you made his nights way better, he always looks forward to spending the last hours of his day with you

After a long day at the gym coming home to you and to your home gives him immense comfort. The first thing the two of you do is cook dinner; he is a surprisingly ok cook, and just having the two of you in the kitchen with music in the background is pure bliss.

He loves to just hug you from behind, swaying, while you tell him about your day. Hidden in the crook of your neck you only feel him hum to make you know he is listening, planting soft kisses every once in a while.

He likes to shower after dinner, and you are always welcome to join him if you feel like it, specially if you are going to help him wash his hair (He always helps you wash yours)

He does have a skin-care routine, and if you do too he likes to have the two of you together in the bathroom, music still in the background, while he shaves and washes his face (He WILL do facemasks if you ask, also his aftershave smells so good, kinda like soft wood and rain)

He likes to sleep as early as possible. He gets super sleepy after 10 o'clock and will start just laying his head on your shoulder and walking slowly behind you until you go to bed. If you take too long he will just lift you up bridal style and tuck you in.

He likes to watch stuff before going to bed, especially if you’ve been watching a show or movie together; HOWEVER do not be surprised if he falls asleep just sitting down. If you nudge him he will make himself comfortable and wrap his arms around you and you can either join him or keep watching, he does not mind as long as he can cuddle you

If he sees you falling asleep before him he will pause whatever you are watching get you comfortable and just play with your hair, running his hands up and down your as he falls asleep

He gives the best cuddles ever, the only downside is that he is a human heater so if there is a particularly hot month be prepared to sweat

He does not budge a bit in the night, and he has a deep sleep, so if you move dont worry about him, however good luck trying to stand up if you need to pee because he pulls you right back in as he sleeps soundly

His favorite position to sleep is when you rest your head on his chest and wrap an arm around him while he wraps his arms around you, kind of like a half spoon, he feels so safe holding you. If you get tired in the middle of the night he likes to be the big spoon, he is contempt with having a lazy arm around you

If there is work to do he is an early riser, he gives you a kiss on the forehead and makes you both either coffee or tea while you shake off your own sleepiness. If you got stuff to do and you refuse to wake up he starts by nudging you, until he gives up and starts hitting you with pillows. He loves the angry look on your face while you scold him for being rude, hoping a kiss on the cheek makes up for the trouble

HOWEVER, if there is no rush he loves to spend a lazy morning. He still wakes up early, he cannot help it, but he takes his time basking in your sunlit sleepy face, tracing your body with featherlight fingers while he waits for you to wake up; he can stare at you for hours

He loves taking you to eat breakfast outside on lazy days, using it as an excuse to take a morning stroll on the closest park while you chat and drink coffee

TENDOU SATORI

Tendou is more of an “on-the-go” guy, he does not have a set sleeping routine, still, there is stuff he likes to get done at night

He does not particularly like cooking, as opposed to baking, so either you are eating leftovers, takeout or he is baking some kind of either sweet or savory pastry for the two of you, depending on his mood on that particular night and how much you beg for him to make you your favorite treat.

He loves to blast love songs while baking so if the pastry is in the oven he will karaoke with you while he spins and guides you to the beat. GIve him kisses while the two of you dance and he will melt.

He does not have a face routine but he does wash his face, he has a set of soap and lotion, nothing too fancy. However he is a big fan of you giving both of you facemasks while you watch something on the tv and talk about the day that just passed.

He suffers from insomnia so he usually sleeps pretty late, he hates just tossing and turning around in bed so if you want to go to sleep he will bring some manga, or watch a youtube video. He sometimes feels like he is bothering you with the dim light of his phone so he tries to use it as little as possible.

Due to that, he is a chatter bug; it can be 3 o’ clock in the morning and you will hear him shuffle to face you before asking either the deepest stuff or just a variant of “What type of pizza do you think I would be?”

If you don��t answer because you are asleep he monologues his ideas or talking about the latest manga he read while playing with your hair and staring at your sleepy face, he thinks you look the most adorable when asleep.

He adores being the little spoon, there is something so comforting to him about being held, so he loves the feeling of your arms around him and your sleepy breath on his neck

Moves little in the night but he is a light sleeper and will wake up briefly if you move, but he does not mind much; uses it as an excuse to snuggle closer

Tendou is not particularly a morning person, but if he wakes up accidentally he has a hard time falling asleep again. Still, since sleeping next to you he finds it easier to soothe himself to sleep, so he’ll just nudge you and go “You hug me”, while grabbing your arms and tucking himself between them. if you comply he is the happiest and just hums a little to help him fall asleep once more

Likes to shower in the mornings because it helps him wake up fully and feel fresh, even if you are in a hurry, the second you step inside the shower he forgets so he takes his time just talking to you about what he dreamt.

He likes lazy mornings because he takes his time to fall asleep as many times as need be. He likes the morning haze and just seeing your sleepy face, as he gets closer to you, your warmth enveloping him to soothe him back to sleep, he will wake up whenever you want, which means that it can be 1 o’ clock and the two of you are still entangled in bed, talking softly or maybe watching something on the tv, not caring about anything in the world.

He is also a big napping enthusiast and his favorite naps are with you. He gets super sleepy due to his messed sleep schedule so just getting to nap with you or even next to you while you do something else really calms him down.

BOKUTO KOTAROU

He walks in after a long day of work and most of the time he just goes “Come on Y/N let’s go on an adventure!”, which is a fun way of naming your dates whether it is going to the movie theater, for dinner, or just to the park.

Bokuto loves to go out at night so most of the time dinner and a stroll through the city is the plan, either that or drive-throughs and blasting music while you park the car nearby in order to eat and talk.

If you don’t feel like going out it’s okay! You can either order food or eat some trustworthy cereal or fruit while he asks you all about your day. Please, ask about his day too, he loves to feel like you want to listen to him, and he always has fun anecdotes, you will not regret it.

He takes aaaaaages showering, it is his own personal concert, he has aromatic candles, dim lights and a speaker set; you can hear him sing loud and proud, and he bases his playlist on the mood of the day.

If you join him in the shower he will either perform most of the songs for your amusement or make you duet with him, he appreciates it if you wash his hair while he sings, and will totally return the favor

After the shower his energy levels fall and he is more cuddly, hugging you from behind while you wash your face and finish your own routine

He does not have a set face wash routine but will not complain if you offer to wash his face or otherwise. He will be humming with his eyes closed while you do so (there is always accidental ingestion of beauty products secondary to him not being able to shut up for more than 3 minutes)

He does not mind whether he sleeps late or early, but he tries to make sure to always sleep his eight hours, after all, being a high performance athlete comes with responsibilities

He does not have a to-go sleeping position, it depends a lot on how the two of you get comfortable, still, he HAS to be touching you on at least one point, even if it’s only by his foot rubbing yours. Not that it matters because he is a hurricane in his sleep and most of the time he ends up hugging you by either an arm or a leg , and also hogging most of the bedsheets

He snores super lightly every once in a while. Also, he has a habit of sleep-talking. If he says something and you answer he will hold a conversation, it will make no sense at all to you, but it is very endearing to hear him talk.

He is a deep sleeper, a truck could run him over and he won’t budge, and in the mornings it is no different, he has a lot of difficulties waking up, which only gets amplified when he feels your warmth next to him, hugging you close and grunting when the alarm clock sounds for the third time.

That is also the reason why he loves weekends, just knowing the two of you have nowhere to go and nothing to do but cuddle. He likes to play a movie and have the two of you watch it half-asleep before going to fix some breakfast.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #kiki writes #iwaizumi x reader #tendou x reader #bokuto x reader

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lunalockley · 1 year

Text

The Limo Driver (part two)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Like, a lot. Can Jake on his knees count as a warning?

Summary: It's night, it's raining and reader just wants to sleep, until she doesn't anymore.

Words: 7700+

Notes: Sooooo, I'm sorry, it took me a little longer than planned but here it is, I really hope you like it. And thank you all so much for your comments, always brighten my day.

Specially dedicated to my dearest moon emoji anon who made me feel really good about this one <3

Masterlist

gif credit

So… you’ve been thinking about it. Well, you can’t stop. Of course you can’t. He kissed you once and you spent six months half in lov—Ok, no. Wait, what? No. Half hooked up on him you mean. Three-quarters stupid. Completely insane. But not half in that. No.

Uh, whatever. It’s only been a day, a couple of hours. It’s way too recent. So it’s normal for your mind to keep on spinning the matter. And the eyes, and the voice, and the fingers. It’s driving you crazy, to be honest. The feel of them on your throat, on your hips, on your mouth… inside of you. You barely slept last night, your mind keeps taking you back through every fucking second of it without even trying. And then you can almost hear his voice calling you preciosa in that way he does and everything starts to heat up. That good, nice heat that’s so easy to get lost on.

But there’s also the bad one. The focalized heat that sets upon your chest like a weight is pressing down on you, making breathing a little bit harder. That’s the one you felt when you walked out last night. And you’ve been feeling it every time you think about what you said, and what he didn’t. That’s the part you’re trying to avoid. Yet it comes to mind anyways. It’s pretty fucking unfair.

And it’s pretty fucking ridiculous too because how come that after all that has happened, all the time you two have shared, all the things he has done you still can’t… figure him out? It doesn’t make any sense. How does someone that’s so incredibly hermetic make you feel you can read him just by looking him in the eyes when you actually don’t know anything about him at all? Does he do it on purpose? Is it a calculated move or is he somehow unable to—

—And you’re doing it again. Thinking about it non-stop. You called in sick needing a night away from the restaurant, from Jake’s stupid chair and that stupid bathroom that has been giving you palpitations just by the thought of going in and this is how you spend it. You had planned to cook a nice dinner, watch a movie, water your barely-alive plants, do a beginner's yoga class on Youtube, and maybe even finish reading that book that has been dusting on your nightstand. But no, here you are. Already in pajamas, all you’ve done (besides eating yesterday’s leftovers) is sit on the couch contemplating how time passes with the rain and Viejita’s soft meowing in the background. Is procrastination the root of all your problems? Maybe it is.

Or maybe it’s just time to get up and do what you do best: sleep. Give your body the rest your mind refuses to get. You impulse yourself out of the couch to go and take Viejita with you. Cuddling with her makes it all better. No more stupid Jake thinking. You let your ear guide you, she’s right next to the window. She had never complained about the rain before and as she feels you getting closer she even starts scratching the glass.

“Hey, baby, It’s just a little rain,” you mutter, petting her and trying to calm her down until you rest your eyes on what she is staring at down the street.

What the f—He can’t just—There’s no fucking way.

You’re not sure. You just live on the third floor but it’s dark outside. The street light barely lights anything at all. And the rain makes it even harder to see. Yet the outline of the limousine is clearly visible, and so is the figure leaning against it. But it can’t be. You’ve always thought Jake is unusual in every little thing he does but this? He wouldn’t be crazy enough to be waiting under the rain without a fucking umbrella and without even ringing the bell to your apartment, just expecting somehow you knew he would be there, right? That would be insane. It must be a weird coincidence. Some other limo driver who's waiting for someone else here… in this neighborhood? Weird, yet not impossible.

But then he looks up straight at your window and your heart jumps inside your chest as you instinctively hurry back into the shadows, where he can’t see you.

Fuck, it is him.

What the fuck? He knows your apartment is on the third floor, you’ve told him. You’ve told him the number. You’ve told him everything, for fuck’s sake. It's not like you want him to come up to your house knocking on the door in the middle of the night but what is he doing? At this point, you’re sure he purposefully finds the way to do the least expected, most incomprehensible thing in every fucking little thing he does. It must be his life’s motto: “No matter what, always find a way to stress the shit out of the people in my life”.

He’s an idiot, there’s no doubt of it. The thing is: are you an idiot? Well, yeah. You just saw him outside your place and your heart is already a beat away from a fucking heart attack. But you should try not to be an idiot anymore. You shouldn't go down. Make it clear you said it’s over for good. He definitely saw you, he would get it, and then… and then he would leave. Forever. Yeah, that’s what you should do.

But… goodbyes are a good thing too, right?

Closure and all that stuff. Talk things out, even if it sounds unlikely with someone like Jake. You can give it a chance. A… friendly goodbye. Ok, yeah. Sounds good. And it is the right thing in this type of situation, grown-up shit. A goodbye, that’s all.

You take one last look at the street just in case you’ve lost your mind and you’ve imagined the whole thing, but he’s still right there. Arms crossed, leaning against the limo and probably soaking fuking wet.

“Your dad’s an idiot, Viejita,” you say to the little black beast before taking her in your arms to leave her on her favorite cushion on the sofa. She settles down, pleased and exhausted as if she's accomplished a hard job.

You grab your keys next to the mirror at the entrance.

Just a goodbye.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The bone-chilling air hits you as soon as you step out of the building but seeing him is what makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second. You couldn’t see it up from your floor but he’s wearing his usual type of clothes, not the casual ones that somehow felt so out of place on him yesterday. Now the familiarity of the white shirt, the jacket, and the hat gives you a naive sense of comfort you try to dismiss away. As if this one were more of your Jake than it was yesterday. Stupid, he’s not more of anything and it’s just clothes.

A white shirt, a jacket, and a hat that are drenched, by the way. Which reminds you—

“What the fuck are you doing in the rain? Are you insane?”

Instead of answering he just looks at you and opens the limo’s door. Silently asking you to get in.

Ok, well…. you didn't think this through. You only thought about coming down, not actually getting into his car. But, you guess… there’s no other option. You came here to say your friendly goodbye, after all. Can’t do it in the rain, just like that. And a veil of water drops is already setting in your clothes, you can feel some of the fabric clanging into your body. Another thing you didn’t think through is the worn-out sweatpants you came out with, the old shirt that has somehow become a pajama shirt, and your lack of a bra underneath.

Fuck it.

When you slide into the car you notice how spacious the limousine is yet it surprises you how it does not seem to be room for many people. There are only two rows of red leather seats facing each other. So much space for so few passengers. In order to be more private and luxurious, you guess. It makes you think about the people he drives for. Might he be just as serious and inaccessible as you’ve seen him be with basically everyone else? Or might he show his weird uncharismatic charisma as he has done with you? The latter doesn’t sound so good, for some reason.

You stop nosing around when you feel him sitting next to you a little bit closer than the spacious seat needs. You were right. He's drenched and most likely ruining the luxurious leather of the luxurious car, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns his whole body and attention towards you.

“Is it every day or once every six months with you? No in-betweens?” You blurt out, cornered by the closeness of his body.

Fuck, friendly goodbye. Friendly.

“Sorry. I take that back,” you mumble, thinking your next words before you pronounce them this time. “Why didn’t you ring the bell to my apartment?”

“It’s late. I saw the lights on but thought you might have fallen asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you. You work too much, preciosa,” he answers calmly, his voice softer than you ever heard before. Not in a submissive way but in a disarmingly appeasing tone as if he had come here disarmed, without any shields. Exactly the opposite of how you feel right now. You move back in the seat trying to get as far as you can get in the restricted space. Soft raspy melting voices shouldn’t cause claustrophobia.

“And if I had been sleeping what would you have done? Wait till I wake up tomorrow?” You throw it out half as a joke, but immediately you realize—

He doesn’t even have to answer to know that’s the truth. He had come here to see you and wouldn’t have left until he did.

“Do you always get what you want? Is that how things work for you?”

“If things worked out for me this wouldn’t be the first time I see you outside work,” he says replies, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. And to your disbelief, he puts it back with a sigh like he didn't even realize the damn thing is soaking fucking wet just like the rest of his clothes are. He should take it all off before he catches a cold. Ha, go on. Keep thinking of him without his clothes on. Good idea. “Speaking of which, you know what am I thinking?”

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, turning towards him, as shocked by your train of thought as by the audacity of his question. “I never know what you’re thinking,” you whisper, taken aback by the fact that he still doesn’t understand how little you understand him. At all. That’s the whole point here.

“That’s weird, I’ve always felt you can see right through me,” he mutters, frowning at you as if you had any fault in that absurd idea. Stupid Jake. His voice sounds sincere but you chose not to even give it a second thought, can’t allow yourself that right now. Not with the purpose you came here for.

So you cross your arms and frown back at him, refusing to answer anything at all. But he mirrors you, crossing his arms and resting his back against the seat.

God, this is so stupid. You’re so mad at him but can’t help smiling when the stare competition last a little too long. It’s infuriating. And so ridiculous. You came here to say goodbye, why are you smiling?

“What are you thinking?” You ask, defeated.

A crooked smile forms on his lips in victory, but he quickly brushes away with his thumb.

“I’m thinking you look pretty fucking good here like this,” he says taking a look at your body, his eyes somehow soft and dark on equal parts. You try to ignore the effect his tone produces under your skin.

“In pajamas on your limousine?”

“Yeah, it’s a sight,” he breathes lowly, uncrossing his arms and getting a little bit closer. You can’t take it.

“Stop—don't do that, please.”

He waits for you to continue.

“That thing you do,” you explain reluctantly. “You make it sound like you’re joking but it feels like you are telling the truth. It’s confusing. Tell me what you are really thinking for once.”

“I’m telling you in every way I know.”

The words are out of his mouth like a caress and the way he’s—No, no, no. Focus. He’s flirting his way out. Get to the point.

“So? Did you come here to say goodbye?”

“Why would I say goodbye?” He retorts like you had asked him the most bizarre question possible.

“Because we are not seeing each other again, I told you it’s over.”

“Oh, it’s over? So what are you doing here?”

“Would you have left if I didn’t come down? I’m saving you from pneumonia. You’re welcome.”

He shakes his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes but then he exhales and lets it go. He looks out the window for a moment and then back at you. Outside, the rain pounds harder.

“I came to say that I’m… I’m sorry”

“Oh, that’s a first. What for?”

You cross your legs and he follows the movement. Then he shifts in his seat once more, trying to find comfort.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t—That I left without saying anything—I… I just disappeared. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry. If it had been you I would’ve—I’m sorry.”

He’s struggling so much one would think this is the first time he apologizes for something in his life. It cracks your walls a little bit, but still—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just had to go and then I couldn’t come back.”

“How so?”

“I… I’m not able to control my time as I used to, just when is necessary.”

Oh. You weren’t important enough to come and let you know he was going to disappear for six fucking months.

“Yeah I get that, you didn’t need to be here,” you grunt moving to get out of the car but he moves from his seat, catching your hand before you even get to touch the handle.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

You try to push him back but in half a second he’s resting his knees on the floor as his hands take yours on a soft grip at each side of your hips. He’s caging you between his body and the seat. And even when your body keeps attempting to get out of the car, the intense heat that radiates out of his body makes you wonder how his wet clothes aren’t fucking steaming.

“Wait, wait—hey, wait, stop,” he says soothingly, his voice not a bit altered by the force with which you are trying to push him. His left-hand find that soft spot on the side of your neck, drawing your attention to his dark eyes. You lose a little bit of your strength. “Listen to me. You’re angry, I know. Take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

What?

Your heartbeat buzzes in your ears and you feel a little lightheaded. This is the first time he’s looking up to you instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what causes that slight desperate effect in his deep brown eyes, the look that the last speaker of an extinguished language would have. Condemned to never truly communicate with anyone else. And the way he looks kneeled in front of you, surrounded, as if he would let you do anything to him right now. Take it out on me, he said. Is he expecting you to hit him or something?

“That’s not how things work, Jake. I’m not gonna turn you into my… human stress relief ball. You just told me you don’t need this. And I wanna make that call too. So, that’s it. You’re an idiot but we’re good. Now move and let me go. It’s ok, it’s over just like I–”

“No, it’s not. Stop that,” he says all frown and serious, and then a little softer. “And that’s not what I meant. But let me apologize. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Then the rest. Let me have you happy and relaxed first.”

“What?—That’s n-not—We should talk”

“Oh, so you came here to talk not to say goodbye?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry,” he says in an innocent tone like he regrets it but he's actually smiling, the widest smile you've ever seen on him yet. A happy smile. The desperate glimmer turned into triumph. He knows you just gave in, he knows he’s won this one. God, you hate him. Stupid Jake.

“Don’t—” take off my slipper, you try to say. But he’s already taking the other one. You really didn’t think about your outfit at all before walking out of your apartment tonight. Whatever. Focus. “What did you mean then, explain it to me. You gotta give me something here because I don’t want to do this anymore, Jake. Not like this.”

He holds your eyes for a moment and then he leans forward, resting his forehead against your knee. One hand slowly making his way up over your calve, the other rolling up the fabric to expose the skin. It takes him a minute to speak again.

“I… I don’t have control over—I don’t really have a—I just do what needs to be done. That’s the purpose of me. That’s all I do. I prevent things from happening and if they happen I resolve them. I… survive, I guess. And this is how it’s been for as long as I can remember. It’s ok—it was, it was ok. It was until one night instead of going to a shitty bar like I always do I decide for some fucking reason to go into that damn 24/7 breakfast and you happened. I didn’t like it, at first, because I knew right there that it wasn’t going to be enough. I already wanted more. I tried to stop it but I kept going and going. You were always there. Lighting things up. Of course, I kept wanting more. It’s never enough”.

While he was speaking his fingertips were gently caressing your calf, his cheek word by word tracing the side of your leg, seeking the reassurance feeling of skin against skin but as soon as the last sentence is pronounced his mouth starts giving open mouth kisses to every inch of uncovered skin it finds on its way and you’re scared your heart may stop working it all. It’s the feel of his tongue in that sensitive spot in the back of your knee, his left hand slowly exploring the length of your thigh but mostly his words and that impenetrable wall finally beginning to break down.

You weren’t expecting this. You thought he was going to come up with a half-true half-joke excuse that you were going to resist not believing in. And then get the courage to walk away just like you had planned. But this is different. You know this is different. You know he meant it. You know for the way he was so evidently struggling to find the right words, the hoarseness on every one of them as if his body were still trying to keep them locked deep inside. This is him. This is what you’ve been asking for. But still—

“The thing is you’re changing things for me, preciosa. I know I’m not made for this. I’m fucked up, I am. I’m not good. And on top of that, there’s not much I can offer you. I’ve nothing. And I can’t even take care of a damn cat without having it all fall over. I’m not even close to being good enough for you. You deserve better, you do—but I’m still here… if you want me. And even if you don’t, I would still be here, waiting.”

It’s raining properly now, hammering on the roof of the limousine. The furious rhythm of hundreds of drops almost synchronized with the rapid beat of your heart. His thumb hooked over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling until your hip is exposed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You deserve better but I’m selfish now. If anything is your fault, you turned me into this. I want you for my own,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the skin of your lower stomach. You can’t help but gasp at the contact, he’s barely touched you and you already can feel the wetness dripping out of you. “Will you let me have you?”

He’s looking you straight into your eyes now, he hadn’t done it since he started speaking, and you can see how much he just gave you. You’ve learned to know him, somehow. Not in the way one learns to read deciphering signs on a page but in the way our eyes become accustomed to darkness after some time. Groping and stumbling you’ve learned some parts of him, his outline. That’s how you know he’s asking for way more than he’s letting on. You have the feeling that saying yes to him involves a lot more than saying yes to somebody else. The feeling that whatever it is he’s asking from you might consume you and leave you heartbroken afterward. But that’s not the hold-up.

The thing is, you want more, you want to see him in full light. You want him for your own too. But you need to understand him. Fully. You won't give yourself up without having him first.

“You want me to beg? I’ll beg if you want me to, but then I’ll be the one taking it out on you later,” he threats when you don’t answer for a while, all teasing voice and mischief glimmer, he’s back to the playful Jake you know so well. A little too long of silence and his defenses go up again.

You don’t think he’ll keep spilling truths voluntarily but now that you’ve heard some of them you want more. You’ve become addicted. You need more. But how?

And how are you supposed to think while he keeps playing with the waistband of your pants? Fuck, unless—He just acted on your terms, revealing himself just like you’ve asked him to. Now is your turn. You probably will get immediately caught up on it, but you can try.

You need to play it his way then.

He sees the change on your face and a spellbound gleam forms in his eyes.

“Show me how it would feel,” you whisper and you don’t need to say it twice.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the sweatpants are out of your legs. Once he has you only in your t-shirt and your panties he leans back a little bit observing you from head to toe, lingering his eyes on yours, on the contour of your hardened nipples and the wet patch of your panties, as if he wanted to burn the image in his memory, the pervert. Well, you can’t judge, you are the same. Admiring how the white wet shirt clings to his torso, wrapping him like hard candy. You may as well lick him—fuck, focus. Focus.

When he starts to slowly take off your panties you manage to find your voice again.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you undress me on the street.”

“You’re letting me undress you in my car, it’s hot. And its got tinted glasses, and it’s dark outside and you’re with me, bonita,” he answers absently, focused on the delicate movement of the silky material as it slides down your legs. You can't mock him at the implication that you're safe with him though, you know it's true. You’ve felt it from the first day.

Once your panties reach your ankles he carefully removes them to put them in the pocket of his pants. Again, pervert. You ignore the need to clench your thighs together at the gesture and decide to tease him about it. He deserves it. And it’s what has worked the best so far. Pushing his buttons it’s what had you moaning in the fucking bathroom of your workplace anyways.

“To remember me?” You ask as innocently as you can.

But he’s done with it. He pins you with his gaze, raising a thick eyebrow at you.

“Why would I need reminding, exactly?”

“Because this is the last time.”

“What did I just say? Stop that. Don’t make me say it again. You know it’s not enough, preciosa. You know it.” His lips back to your legs, his voice still annoyed but so soft you don’t think you hear right: “Will never be.”

For the sake of your own heart, you rather believe you misheard.

He opens your legs a little bit further and then—

“Fuck, baby.” He sounds so wrecked, you feel weak. You were supposed to do something, what was it? “Voy a despertar soñándote por el resto de mi puta vida.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t understand. And tell me… tell me more about yourself first, please.”

“There’s not much to tell. And I’d like to do something else with my tongue right now.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I mean, if I could record this right n—”

“Jake.”

“Whichever you’d like to watch with me, bonita.”

“You drive for a living?”

“That’s how I earn some money, yeah. Stop torturing me.”

“But you’re not just a driver, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And is that…dangerous?”

“Not to you. I promise”

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m in danger of dying as a thirsty man here.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lockley. Come on, baby, don't make me go crazier than I already am.”

“Lockley… Jake Lockley.” That catches his attention back to your mouth for a second. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“This,” he says sliding you effortlessly to the edge of the seat. You feel his breath near your core and you know you’re losing it. Shit, why were you doing this? Why are you delaying it when you want it so badly? Oh, right, you—

“Jake, wait,” you breathe. “I need more. I need to understand.”

“Then pay attention, preciosa.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and he’s so close. So close. You won’t hold back anymore. You can’t. Your hand finds his shoulder just to hold onto something but fuck. He’s still in his wet clothes. He can’t stay like this. You gather the little willpower you have left to push him back. You expect some sort of resistance but he moves back with no effort on your part. Take it out on me, is this what he meant?

The way he raises his gaze is enough to set your blood on fire. He looks at you as if he’s about to say fuck it all and push you back to have his way with you mixed with genuine curiosity about what are you going to do next. Submission hanging by a thread.

“Take off your jacket.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and then he does it. Fuck, the power trip you're feeling right now. It feels pretty fucking good having him listening to you like that. More.

“Now your shirt.”

He sighs and begins to unbutton it, somehow amused by how much you're pushing it. Did he just unblock a new kink for you?

Once the shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor of the limo you lean forward to take off his hat. Is soaking wet just like his hair is underneath. And of course, you can’t resist. You take a moment to run a hand through his curls all the way down to his nape until your hand is resting on his shoulder again. He looks so fucking hot like this. You bite the urge to confess it, instead, you lean back and open your legs a little further, an invitation.

“You can go on, now.”

The little smile he’s trying to bite back makes your stomach flutter. You decide to tease him a little bit more.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” you concede, beginning to close your legs but you barely get to move an inch before he dives right in and—

Fucking heaven.

You loudly gasp at the feeling of the wet heat of his mouth dragging over the folds of your pussy, his groan sending shivers from your core through your whole body. Fuck, it’s too good. It’s too good. When his tongue swirls around your clit your brain short-circuits having at the same the time the urge to push him away and push him impossibly closer. As your hand finds his curls you realize your body has chosen the latter. The movement pleases him, you can feel his smile against you.

“So fucking good,” he mutters, barely pulling back as you feel the movement of his lips with each word. Your hips move forward anyway, chasing the delicious contact.

Fuck, you’re already on the edge. His mouth is giving you everything without holding anything back. Fixed on wreck you from the beginning, desire running through your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck. Jake, I–I’m gonna—”

“Eyes on me, preciosa.” Is all he says but your mind is gone, every cell in your body focused on the sweet hot pleasure that’s rushing to you core. Your head falls back against the seat as the shocks of ecstasy flow through you, your whines chanting his name, your hand holding thigh to his hair, your cunt clenching hard around nothing—his mouth not leaving you for a second, drowning in you.

When your legs twtich a little too much one hand holds your hips down hard into the seat to ensure you keep still but he’s not stopping, he’s—

He’s—

Two long, thick fingers slid in and out of you as Jake’s mouth goes up, focusing on your swollen clit, licking and sucking and his eyes—

Fuck, you can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

His gaze is so deep and strong, melting your fucking bones. You’ve never been seen like that, never.

“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll keep going until you let me see.”

You can’t help but clench at his words, a whine escaping your lips. He feels it.

“Mmm, would you like that?”

It’s too much, too intense. The free fall never stops inside of you. And you can’t even move away from it. You just have to take it the way he wants to.

His tongue swirls, his fingers curl and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure ripping you from the inside. Your sense of gravity changes to where his wet hot mouth keeps taking everything you have to give. His fierce brown eyes the only thing keeping you grounded.

“That’s it. Look at you, so fucking pretty baby,” Jake says in that dark rich voice you love so much, and though he keeps praising you you’re too gone to even hear anymore. All you can do is lay back against the seat of his limo until your heart stops booming in your ears and air reintegrates into your lungs again.

When feeling comes back to your numb body you find one of his hands massaging the back of your neck, the other moving from your collarbone towards that spot that keeps beating strong under his touch. He keeps his warm palm right there in your heart and fuck, he’s still kneeling in front of you, looking at you with Am I forgiven eyes and you know this is not healthy, this is not how things should be, yet all you want to do is to close your own eyes because you know they’re answering him yes, yes you are. Instead, you lower your head to brush your lips into his, an invitation that makes his body go so pliant on you when you grab him and take him up with you, maneuvering him until you’re on his lap and you can finally kiss him like you’ve wanted since the moment you met him.

That first kiss six months ago was tentative and stiff, it felt like he was trying to stop himself but his body wouldn’t respond to his rational wishes, like his mouth was moving against all his fucking will. Yesterday’s kisses were dark and possessive, every movement of his tongue deliberately planned to have you whining at his mercy.

This one is completely different. This time it’s you who’s leading the way. This time it’s you who’s showing him that the despair that’s so evident in the glimmer of his eyes is the same that’s hidden deep down in your chest. And you know, you know, that the moan that sips out of him when you cradle each side of his face and your tongue clashes into his is because he understands what your body is saying to him. He knows.

And it may be minutes or hours, all you’re conscious of is the constant pattering of the rain against the roof of the car, your own taste in his mouth, the way he pushes you closer every time you bite his lower lip, his fingers under your t-shirt caressing the small of your back, tracing your ribs and digging in your hips, the warmth of his skin, the hard muscle underneath, his damp curls when you run your nails through his head, those dark sounds that come out of his throat when you rock against the bulge inside his pants, the slow, steady bone-melting rhythm that completely intoxicates you until you need more, more, more.

And you know he does too.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion. You feel something icy at the center of your collarbone but you don’t even have time to process it because suddenly your breast is in his hot wet mouth and his teeth are gently nipping the flesh there and then his tongue swirls against your nipple and—

You need—you’re overwhelmed by the need to have him as delirious as he has you right now.

You push him back into the seat and he’s immediately calling you preciosa and complaining but you are already kissing him, shutting him up, and undoing the zipper of his pants. He growls in your mouth when you palm the outline of his cock over his underwear, your walls clench hard in anticipation. And then he shivers when you slowly run your nails throughout his length over the fabric and you know you’re fucked. You will crave this feeling for the rest of your life. The feeling of having Jake Lockley trembling with pleasure underneath you. An instant addiction.

You take his hard cock out and you and you don't even give him time to pull his pants out or take them off before you’re rubbing your slit against his length. Utterly and unashamedly desperate.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters in your mouth, his tight and raspy voice making you throb in need, his muscles tense under your hands. “Feels soo good, doesn’t it? This is how it will feel like, everything, every fucking time.”

He pushes back a little to look at you. You know he’s talking about what you answered when he asked to have you. Show me how it would feel. You know this is his way to push for an answer. A confirmation that you’re his. But instead of trying to find those words hidden somewhere in your chest you get lost in his deep brown eyes and you realize that all those moments when he looked at you like he wanted to crawl under your skin your eyes must have looked at him just the same way.

“Will you let me have you?” The question leaves your lips this time, yet no words come out of his mouth but a breathless choked sound as if you’ve punched him in the gut. Instead, he just grabs the side of your neck and glares at you with something profound that could be anger or devotion, or maybe both. And then he’s kissing you, his tongue fighting yours, how dare you is saying. A hand on your hip lifts you up enough so that he can line himself up at your entrance and just when you begin to feel that pressure—

“If we are doing this you’re not allowed to leave again without warning, Ok? It’s cruel,” you blurt out without thinking, your helpless heart rising to the surface, exposing itself despite your efforts.

“Ok,” he answers, his voice torn and low, as solemnly as he can with your cunt torturously dripping the length of his cock. You look down, ready to feel him inside but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “And you’re not allowed to say you hate me. Ever again. I mean it. Ok?”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out until I have you begging me to stop but I won’t until I’m sure you’ve completely forgotten the damn fucking word. Ok?” He pulls at your hair for emphasis and you have to fight down the moan that threatens to leave your throat with the gesture.

“Ok,” you answer out of breath, obediently.

“Good,” he praises, soothing your scalp with his fingertips. Then, cheeky again. “What am I allowed to?”

“You’re allowed to ring the bell to my apartment, for once.” You laugh but then—

He holds your hips as he slowly begins to slide his cock in, gently and steadily but fuck.

Holy fuck.

You’re so wet there’s barely any resistance bet he’s long and thick and the stretch feels like he’s gonna break you in half. The strong grip of your hands on his shoulders makes him stop before he can go any further.

“You’ll get used to me,” he gasps in your temple. “Fuck, such a tight fucking pussy, baby. But I’ll make you get used to me. All of you.”

“Shut up and just keep going, for fuck’s sake”

“Relax on me, preciosa. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he can find, his tongue licking the pulse in your neck. “Relax…Mmm, that’s it. Yeah, like that.”

It takes a little. The expert grip on your hips makes you sink into him so, so slowly every inch of him steals a whine out of you but you know it’s driving him fucking crazy too. He’s breathing hard, the muscles in his abdomen jump at the slightest shift of your hips, and a faint film of sweat appears on his neck. It makes you wanna lick him. But you get distracted by how good and how deep it feels and how his hands move from your hips to a playful hold on your throat, until they fall flat on the seat.

“You can go on, now,” he returns your words, a cheeky little grim forming in the corner of his lips as he leans back on the seat. Leaving you to it. Your heart swells at the wrecked and joyful gleam of his eyes.

You try to say something smart and snarky at him but his cock is buried deep inside of you and you can’t think of anything else, to be honest. You lift yourself up and down, tentatively, the burning so good it has so gasping.

“Feels good, baby? Feels so right, doesn’t it? You know why it feels so right, don’t you? You understand it.”

You pick up your pace, oblivious of his words, trying to suppress the hidden emotion behind every roll of your hips. You don’t want to hear those words, you don’t need to. Not now. But he keeps going—

“You have no idea all the times a woke up this,” he breathes, his hands finding your hips again. Unable to stay away for too long. “Preciosa lurking me with her smart mouth and her —fuck— her pretty smile. Letting me punish her for being too good for me.”

He makes you clench hard around him. You can’t help it. It’s his words, the idea.

“Mmm, you’d like that. I’d like that too. I could spank you for every time you wouldn’t leave my fucking head, for distracting me,” he growls grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “How red would your ass be then, huh?”

His hand goes up to hold your hip again. And now he’s thrusting into you. Reaching places you couldn’t reach yourself, so fucking deep.

“I could edge you to tears for doing this to me.” The pad of his thumb finds your clit and you whine his name in response. The shots of ecstasy are growing fast and intense. You’re gasping, he’s breathing hard. And to your surprise, he keeps talking. “I could have you screaming for—for—”

Before he was forcing himself to get the truth out, struggling to answer your questions with honesty. But now it’s flowing out of him, a little bit of truth with every thrust of his hips. Every word sticking deep into your heart.

“Fuck, I missed you… my whole body felt it even—even when I wasn't myself.”

God, you can’t even process each sensation. And his scent is concentrated in that soft spot on the side of his neck, it makes you dizzy. You’re so out of yourself, so overflowed with sensations and desire, that you only notice you’re running your tongue down the skin of his throat when growls and holds you impossibly closer, just like you wanted.

Is too much. Everything. This is—you’ve never felt anything like this before. Like the whole ground is disappearing under you. All you can do is hold onto Jake, one hand on his shoulder the other on his nape, your face buried in his neck. But he’s asking you something, his voice softer than before.

“Do you understand?”

But you’re too lost on it. You can’t—Your movements start to grow impatient, fast, and erratic. The hot melting pleasure is close once more. But not close enough.

“Preciosa, answer me.”

You keep clinging to him, refusing to do anything but chase the feeling. You’re almost there, almost there, you’re—

You’re suddenly on your back, his body hovering over yours, both of your hands taken behind you, arching you and maintaining you exposed. Making it impossible to hide away. His hand is on the side of your neck, his eyes piercing through you. He’s expecting the same sincerity he has given you tonight. He’s done what you’ve been asking him this whole time—broken down the wall between you two. Why are you so scared to take what was behind it? Because it’ll consume you. It already is. And you know if he disappears again—If he disappears after all this everything it would be so, so much worse. It’s too much risk. It’s all too much. You can’t—

But fuck, he looks so lost in you.

“Tell me, do you understand now?”

At this point, you couldn't lie even if you tried. Your heart is on the surface.

“Yes, yeah. I-I do. Me too, Jake.”

“Fuck, mía.” He groans between desperate kisses on your mouth, then becomes a prayer that escapes from his lips with every needier, sloppier thrust of his hips. “Mía, mía, mía…”

Your whole body tenses under him then the pleasure rips you from the inside, making you scream this time. The hard squeeze of your cunt enough to push him to the edge. He grinds his cock as deep as he can against something that makes you sob and then he’s cumming, hard. You feel his body shuddering above and you want to see every second of it but everything goes blurry.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Somehow, you find yourself on his lap again. Your whole body a dead weight against him. Your head tugged in the curve of his neck. His hands moving up and down along your back.

Your body is tired yet the adrenaline is still running through your veins. You can feel it buzzing somewhere inside, that’s why you are surprised when your voice comes out as a whisper.

“If you disappear again I swear that I—”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

You push back to look into his eyes in search of any sign that may tell otherwise, but you don’t find any.

“I won’t be long gone. I’ll be back soon,” he reassures, running his fingertips from your neck to your collarbone, his lips gently tracing your jawline. “Apenas pude aguantarme esta vez. No soy tan fuerte.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll be back. Ok?”

Suddenly he’s looking into your eyes for some sort of final confirmation that you feel the same way he feels, even if he didn’t confess it with words. And you do. You do, you do, you do, your answer to him. Instead, your mouth says—

“Ok.”

He takes your face in both his hands. His lips brushing yours.

“Mi preciosa.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours before sunrise, long after the rain has stopped, you enter your apartment. Happy and exhausted, you know you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You also know you’ll dream of brown deep eyes and a raspy voice calling you preciosa over and over again.

As you put your keys next to the mirror at the entrance your eyes catch a sparkle on your neck. It’s a silver necklace with a little moon on it. It’s beautiful.

Your head turns to the window, to the moonlight and the limousine below it that you know won't leave until it sees all your lights off.

You had never felt anything like this before, you had never been under the weight of an emotion so strong that there was no way to communicate it with words, you had never been able to understand someone just by looking into their eyes. But then Jake isn’t like anyone you have met before either. And there's nothing you'd do to change that.

You know he will be back.

———————————————

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