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masuchu · 5 months

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“𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄” [GENSHIN MEN]

what puppy traits do your genshin boyfriends have? ‧₊˚

genre. fluff!! so fluffy it hurts

characters. kaeya, zhongli, wriothesley

love, masu. guys this was originally meant to have so many more characters TwT then i just made it all of my bf’s ugh can you blame me 😞 lmk if you want a pt. 2 !!

(凯亚) 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ‧₊˚

We all know Kaeya has the attention span of a overexcited pup, so it’s not at all surprising that he ditches his paperwork and comes to bother you with licks, bites and love!

When you’re occupied, he pokes you for attention. When you’re mad, he nibbles on your neck to tame you. And when you’re being cute, he pounces on you and teases you about your adorable expressions.

Follows you around, but not like a lost puppy. No, more like a puppy on a mission. He has to be wherever you are, because how else is he going to entertain himself and bother you? Alone? Impossible!

He knows you love it, too. He’ll flirt with you and test your patience, saying in his delectable voice, “Oh, you hate me? Your heartbeat says otherwise~”

Lovestruck when you decide to return his irritating antics! Bite him back, fight fire with fire? Oh, his eyes burst out of their sockets! But beware, once he’s over his devoted haze, he doubles his teases. Triples, in some cases. What? You wouldn’t have fought back if you didn’t want to start a war!!

All in all, he really is a loveable little puppy. A hopelessly jarring one? Yes, but a loveable one all the same.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“Hah! A puppy? Cute. However, I recall you mentioning last week just how much you love and adore puppies, am I wrong? Does that mean, perhaps, it is the same case for I? Ah, love, I’m truly flattered~”

(钟离) 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ‧₊˚

A devoted puppy. Not so much a golden retriever, but more like a guide dog. Wants to assist you in all ways he can, admire you silently, and remain with you always.

He stays firmly, yet loosely at your side almost all the time. A hand gripped on your waist, the remnants of bites littered along your neck, his chin on your shoulder while you work.

How can he help it? He knows exactly what you need (at least he thinks he does), he must tend to you at all hours of the day. There have been countless occasions of him cancelling your appointments without permission, all for time with you.

It’s hard to resist him when his reasonings are so romantic! Sometimes you question wether he has some form of separation anxiety, but you have come to realise it is more of a separation dislike.

He aids you on what to buy at the market at Liyue Harbour, will not be offended when you choose something else. He will praise your taste in tea, and keep a loyal hand on your waist the entire walk home.

He will tell you about the history of Liyue, how the age-old flowers resemble you. You smile. It sets him at ease. A tender pup, lives to make you happy.

A surprisingly clingy pup, too. Sometimes you wake up with arm weaved around your body like the finest linen, some days, his entire top half is pressed right onto your chest! His excuse is that he must have gotten cold in the night, but you know he adores holding you.

He is an irresistible puppy, it is hard to stay mad at him. His handsome face, his perfectly chosen words… ugh!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“Oh? I have never been compared to such an animal. I am… intrigued. Please, tell me what about me resembles the creature.”

(莱欧斯利) 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 ‧₊˚

Wriothesley swears that he is not a jealous, nor a particularly nervous or anxious lover. If so, why does he seem to inch closer to you and let out what seems to be a growl whenever a potential threat comes close you to you?

(What he deems to be a potential threat, anyways.)

He is such a cute, little guard dog! Hellbent on protecting you when it matters, and equally as persistent on keeping you all to himself when it is probably not that necessary!

He nibbles your skin on occasion, too. Gentle nips, flirtatious and teasing, and painstakingly canine! He does not shy away from admitting that he wants to mark you, either! Tells you plainly, and grins at your blush.

Having to spend almost all of his time at the Fortress of Meropide, it is often that a messenger is sent up above land to collect you under the pretences of ‘The Duke has a very important matter he would like to discuss with you.’ Yeah right.

You are met with the same cheeky grin when you waltz into his office; full of need, puppy-like excitement that he somehow manages to keep down, but slightly begging and desperate.

Like Zhongli, he is a tending puppy. He likes to watch your every, minuscule reaction to certain teas, his kisses, jokes he makes, etc. He makes countless mental notes, and always knows how to be a dutiful pup!

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘:

“A puppy, huh? I’ve been called many things, but that is certainly new for me. Though, I don’t hate the idea of being your guard dog, it gives me an excuse to have you with me at all times…”

2024 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

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cameronspecial · 6 months

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I Will Be Your Girlfriend, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Wisdom Teeth Removal

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: Y/N is a little bit confused after she gets her wisdom teeth removed and Rafe takes advantage of this for a prank.

A/N: The video inspiration was sent in by Anonymous.

Masterlist

Y/N’s wisdom teeth have been bothering her for months and she has finally been able to get an appointment to get them removed. Rafe had been a little nervous about the procedure. Sure, the surgery is safe, but what if something happens to her? Even though he didn’t have to wait in the oral surgeon’s office, he wanted to stay just in case his fiancée or the doctor needed him. About an hour and a half later, Rafe is called into the room because she is waking up from the procedure. “Hey,” he greets when he sees her dopey open eyes. Y/N gives him a goofy smile caused by the effects of the anesthesia she was under. Her finger points at him, “You’re pretty.” Rafe chuckles, approaching her to sit on the chair beside the bed. “Thank you. You are beautiful too,” he states. She continues to grin at him, “What’s your name?”

“Rafe, Angel.”

“Rafe Angel is a funny name.”

“Angel is what I call you.”

“My name is Angel?” she asks confused with her hand on her chest. Rafe is having such a hard time keeping in his laughter, “No, your name is Y/N.” She nods in understanding. “I will be your girlfriend, Rafe,” she declares, changing the topic in her high state. Her hand squeezes his cheeks together. Rafe sees this as her opportunity to play a little prank on her and although he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, he thinks she’ll find it funny. Rafe sets up his phone to film them so that they can rewatch this moment later. He looks at her regretfully, “I’m sorry to say that I have a fiancée, Y/N.” She pouts and he swears tears might crop up in her eyes. “Oh no, but you are so pretty. Please be my boyfriend,” she whines, trying to kiss him. Rafe pulls away with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, but I’m very in love with her. She’s so smart and beautiful and funny and nice.” “Noooo, I want to be your girlfriend,” she cries. Regret instantly fills Rafe. He hates seeing her cry. His arms envelop her in a hug and bring her into his chest.

“Hey, hey. No need to cry. Look at your finger,” he instructs, kissing her temple. Y/N’s teary eyes look down at the ring on her finger. Her crying ebbs, “Who gave this to me?” “I did, Angel. I’m going to be marrying you,” he whispers. Her grin turns massive and she pulls him in tighter. “We are getting married?” she repeats, looking up at him. “Yes. Now, how about we get you home?” he suggests. “Can I have a kiss first?” she pleads, her voice still soft from crying. “Of course.” He closes the distance between their lips and laughs into the kiss when he feels her hand give his butt a tiny squeeze. They pull apart and she takes his hand into hers. “He’s my fiancé,” she announces to the dentist assistant, who walks in to go over the discharge procedure. The assistant smiles at her, “That’s great, Sweetie. You guys make an adorable couple.” Y/N beams at Rafe and cuddles into his side. Her head may be a little hazy from the drugs, but she knows for sure that this is a man who she loves.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

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maraschinomerry · 2 months

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Rock Paper Scissors

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader, background Locklyle

Summary: George is your best friend, Lucy's convinced there's more to it but he's not your type... is he?

Content: friends to lovers, oblivious flirting, misunderstanding, light swearing and suggestive thoughts, kisses

A/N: it's officially 1 year since I posted my first Lockwood & Co fic!! Thank you all for making it such an incredible year and continuing to support my writing, it means the world to me ❤️ and thank you to the Multiverse of George for fuelling the buff!George fire 🔥 I've even made a montage so everyone can see the vision, plus the gif above of George swinging the chains he's definitely strong 💪

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Ever since you'd started working for Lockwood & Co, you and George had had the most playful rivalry.

It had started on the very first day, when you came for your interview. Lucy had welcomed you into the living room while George went to fetch the biscuits. After breezing through the tests, Lockwood gestured to the plate still being clutched by the other boy.

“Biscuit?”

You frowned at the boy in the armchair, who looked like the last thing he wanted to do was to share. “Am I supposed to fight you for them or something?”

George had the audacity to snort. “In your dreams.” But then he did offer you the plate, albeit reluctantly.

Once you got used to one another, you found that you actually got on really well and gradually he became your best friend, but by then you'd set a precedent that neither of you wanted to drop.

“We're heading out soon,” Lucy informed you both as she slid cups of tea across the table. She and Lockwood had an appointment with a client, leaving you and George behind to keep working. “Can one of you oil the chains ready for tonight?”

You turned to George; he was already looking at you. A gleam came to his eye.

“Rock paper scissors?”

“You bet,” you grinned, already raising your hand. It took a few attempts, as you'd done it so many times by now that the two of you knew what each other was planning before it happened, but eventually you lost. Sticking your tongue out, you picked up your cup and headed towards the basement. Lucy followed you down.

“Can I ask you something?” she began cautiously.

“Course you can.” It wasn't like Lucy to not just ask straight out. This was odd.

“What's going on with you and George?” This was definitely odd. “It feels like you've gone past teasing, you're almost flirting with each other.”

Your gaze flew to your friend, who had lingered on the stairs. Was she being serious? “It's not like that, Luce,” you replied, wondering if it was warm in the basement or if it was just you. “I love him to bits, but the same way I love all of you. He's just not my type.”

Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You have a type?”

“Don't say that like you don't,” you hit back. “You and Lockwood are made for each other! And George is great, really, but I prefer guys a bit more… buff?”

Lucy nodded. “Interesting.” It was spoken with the air of someone who knew exactly why it was interesting and someone who was absolutely not going to explain why. “Well… just don't rule anything out, but please be careful. I love you both too and I'd hate to see either of you get hurt.”

It was touching to hear her so candid about her feelings for you both. “I won't, I promise.”

—

You always forgot how ridiculously heavy the chains were. Just trying to hoist them up to make sure you'd oiled all the way round each joint was a workout. It was only adrenaline that carried you through working with them on cases. Thank goodness you were almost finished - your arms were beginning to ache and you were sure you were coated in sweat.

“Need a hand?” George's voice drifted from the stairs. You hadn't heard him come down, probably drowned out by the clanking links and your strained grunts, but there he was, sitting on one of the lower steps and watching you in amusement.

“You mean you want me to dishonour the sacred pact of rock paper scissors?” You mimed fainting in shock, taking the opportunity to slump back on the pile of chains and let the tension dissipate from your shoulders.

He chuckled, climbing down the final few steps and holding out his hand. “Will the sacred pact allow a lunch break? I made soup.” He'd got you there and he knew it. You loved his soup. Grinning, you accepted his hand and he pulled you away from the cold, hard metal.

There were two steaming bowls already set out on the table when you got back to the kitchen, and beside yours was a plate of sandwiches, cut exactly how you liked them.

“You're the best.”

“I know,” George smirked. He was eating with one hand, the other scribbling away on the Thinking Cloth. As he became more engrossed, he leant further forwards, his dark curls flopping over his brow. It was fascinating watching him get so engrossed in his work, the whole world melting away around him. Once you finished eating, you glanced across and took his empty bowl from in front of him. He looked up sharply, snapped from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you,” you mumbled.

“No, it's fine. We should probably get packed.”

You followed him down to the basement and pulled your kit bags from the shelf. Set side by side on the table, you both began to load up.

“You can carry the chains,” you told him over your shoulder as you picked up a half-empty box of flares and emptied it into your bag.

“Hey, you're the one who lost!”

“Only for cleaning them, I've done my bit.”

He huffed, but gave you a smile as he made his way over to the mound of chains. Your eyes widened as he scooped up a whole length in one easy movement and gave them a quick shake loose. You'd spent nearly quarter of an hour trying to manoeuvre that section earlier.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“They're not that heavy,” he shrugged, then added with a cheeky raised eyebrow, “or at least only when you’re trying to clean them.”

You threw the empty cardboard box at his head with a laugh.

—

A week later, the four of you were nestled in the living room. Outside, rain battered against the windows, which were almost being shaken out of their frames by the driving wind. You'd never have guessed it was June; it felt more like January. The fire was lit in the hearth, the occasional crackle of wood splitting the only other sound.

Eventually, Lockwood broke the silence. “I hate to say it, but someone's going to have to go out. We've got no tea left and barely enough food to last until tonight. We can draw straws to make it fair.”

He needn't have bothered. You and George already had your fists raised. One, two, three, paper. One, two, three, rock. Scissors. Paper. Scissors. Rock. Round and round you went, the symmetry only fuelling your competitive natures.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucy muttered. She was right, of course.

You raised your fist higher, leaning forward in an offered challenge. “Right. Arm wrestle. Loser goes.”

George leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. Lockwood and Lucy exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“Y/n…” Lucy began, but you weren't listening. Your elbow was already mirroring George's, hand in his. You weren't sure why you'd expected the easy, flexible grip of holding a rapier, but his fingers were clenched firmly around the back of your hand. Lockwood moved closer and counted you down.

Your hand hit the table almost immediately.

It felt like all the air had left the room. You stared in shock at the boy opposite, the triumphant toothy grin that crinkled his eyes, the unexpected tightness of his shirt sleeve around his arm. The similar tightness in your chest. Interesting.

Some sort of realisation hit you, and your attention shifted to Lucy. The look she was giving you was almost as satisfied as George's. Warmth flooded your cheeks. You drew in a shaky breath as you struggled to drag your eyes away from George's arm, which was still pinning yours to the table. After a moment, you felt his fingers loosen and with some reluctance pulled your hand away. The silence in the room was palpable. Lucy was still watching you in amusement. Lockwood was watching Lucy, trying to figure out why she had that “I know something you don't” look again over a simple arm wrestle. George was watching you too, his expression slowly shifting from victory to concern.

“Y/n? You okay?” he asked quietly. Your thoughts rushed back into your body, snapping your attention into the real world.

“All good,” you mumbled. “Just preparing to get drenched. If I'm not back in 20 minutes, assume I've been blown to the other end of the country.” At least that got a laugh out of Lockwood. Hurriedly, you stood and made your way to the front door. Why had you agreed to this? It was your own fault, of course, for continuing this whole competitive thing with George, but how were you to know he was that strong? A flash of bicep clouded your vision again, and you reached for the door handle before you did something regrettable.

“Hold on,” a voice came behind you. It was him. Keep it together, you told yourself.

“If you're about to volunteer to take my place, go ahead,” you forced yourself to stay casual.

George moved closer, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. “I was actually going to question why you looked like you were about to leave without a coat.” He reached to the rack over your shoulder, lifting yours from its hook.

“That might help.” You knew you were blushing again, but prayed he thought it was just from embarrassment at being so forgetful. Definitely not how close he was, how he was holding your coat in the same hand that had been holding yours moments ago.

—

By the time you made it back to the house, you were soaked to the bone and almost shivering. It seemed like the storm wasn't going to let up until at least the next day, so you'd decided to stock up on plenty of food which had seemed like a great idea until you tried to carry it all home. You'd had to stop several times on the way, ducking into doorways and bus shelters to escape the weather as you swapped hands, flexed your shoulders or relieved your fingers from where the handles of the bags had started to make dents. When you finally made it, you held the door open with one foot as you negotiated the bags in and dropped them unceremoniously on the hall floor. George emerged from the living room, alone this time; Lockwood and Lucy must have gone upstairs or down to the basement.

“You look awful.”

“Aww thanks, you're not so bad yourself,” you joked dryly. Oh god, Lucy was right, you were almost flirting. A shiver ran through you and this time you hoped it was from the cold.

For a second, you thought you saw George's eyelids flutter. “Well, I uh… I ran you a bath to warm you back up. I'll put this away.” He hauled up the bags of shopping with barely a huff, and you tried to reason that he hadn't just carried them through a storm.

The water was soothingly warm and scented with lavender salts, the smell wafting up in delicate bursts as it swirled around, relaxing all the tension in your aching muscles. As you lay peacefully, you reflected on what had happened earlier. You weren't sure you'd ever felt… You couldn't even identify what feelings you'd experienced during the arm wrestle. Shock? Embarrassment? No. It was something else, something that Lucy had noticed immediately and had been trying to get through to your oblivious self. But she was wrong, wasn't she? You said it yourself, you weren't into George, even if he did now fulfil your main criteria. Then again, so did plenty of other guys you'd met. Kipps was quite well built, definitely had muscles, but that didn't mean you'd considered dating him. He wasn't like George though - smart, funny, thoughtful George. You couldn't imagine Kipps running you a bath or making your favourite lunch, or doing any number of the things that with George felt so natural. And there were all the little things you did for him that you'd never do for anyone else. No, there were no two ways about it: you were a pair in whatever capacity that meant.

Still didn't mean you fancied him, you told yourself.

You volunteered to help George with the dishes after dinner that night. It was always nice to be able to spend time just the two of you in sync, but tonight especially you figured it was a good idea to be around him in perfectly normal circumstances. You'd chat or enjoy the companionable quiet, you'd both be at ease; nothing could possibly happen, which would give you time to prove your feelings were a fluke.

George picked up his blue rubber gloves and tossed you a tea towel. He was dressed casually, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt (so large that the sleeves almost met his gloves at the elbow). The radio was playing quietly in the background, giving you a welcome distraction. Whenever a song you recognised came on, you'd start humming along or singing under your breath, and George would smile at you, sometimes even joining in. Your heart leapt a bit when he did, but that was nothing, you were just happy to be sharing this moment with your friend. He stuck an arm deeper into the sink to grab something at the bottom and made a small noise. Water had splashed up onto the cuff of his sleeve. You giggled at the look of disgust he made at the wet fabric sticking to his skin. The sound died in your throat when he took off his gloves, draped them on the side of the sink and rolled his sleeves up out of the way. You were so used to him being hidden behind his giant tops, or at the very least being in longer sleeved shirts, that seeing his bicep completely exposed was a shock in more ways than one. It wasn't much wonder he'd beaten you so easily at arm wrestling with muscles like that. You wondered whether it was just his arms that were so toned, or was the rest of him the same? Was he hiding a set of abs under that T-shirt too? Were his thighs-

“You okay?�� George nudged you, and you hastily looked away.

“I was just…” Come on, come on, find an excuse, your brain urged. “...thinking how this means we both got wet clothes today, if you want me to put that top in with my washing after this?” God that was lame. Not much wonder he wasn't interested in you. That wasn't the point, you reminded yourself.

“Oh,” he smiled. “That'd be great, thanks.” He leant over to put a chopping board on the draining rack, and his bicep brushed against yours. A shockwave of warmth resonated through your whole body. Oh.

“Tell you what,” you forced yourself not to stammer, “are you okay to finish up here and I'll go and grab the laundry basket?” He nodded, and you tried not to fall over your own feet as you retreated to the hallway and sucked in a breath to calm your racing heart. Oh.

—

You cursed yourself for ever starting this. No, this was Lucy's fault for pointing it out. No, still your fault.

Being around George was becoming unbearable. Not for anything he'd done, rather the things he wasn't doing. He was carrying on exactly as he always had, that inimitable blend of playful and caring, and it was driving you mad not knowing whether he meant any of it in the way you wanted him to. You couldn't say anything, of course. If you were wrong, it would mess up the whole dynamic of the group. That would hurt almost as much as any rejection. But the more things went on, the more you took notice of the little moments between you, the more your feelings grew until it felt like they would crawl out of your chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?” George snapped at Lockwood. He and Lucy had been out on a case which went badly, and now the four of you were sitting at the dining table in the early hours, George applying butterfly stitches to a cut on Lockwood's arm and you cleaning a couple of scratches on Lucy's face. The misty gloom of the night outside the window reflected the atmosphere within.

“I was thinking,” Lockwood snapped back, “that we only had to handle a couple of Type Ones, according to your notes.”

“I told you those weren't finished!”

“Well maybe next time, don't get distracted.” Was it your imagination, or had his gaze flickered to you?

“Maybe next time,” George replied darkly, “do your own research.”

“Fine.” Lockwood pushed his chair back and stalked from the room. Lucy shot you both an apologetic grimace and followed.

George began pacing round the kitchen, hands twitching angrily. You stayed at the table, knowing it was best to give him the space to say or do whatever he needed to let his feelings out. You were there if he needed you.

“Can you believe him?” It was rhetorical, you'd heard him say it enough to know, so you waited for him to continue. “We end up in this situation almost every week, because he's too reckless to wait! I know he'd rather be in the action, but he'd be able to do all that more if he'd let me give him the right information first.”

You gently waded in, trying to be reassuring. “We all know how useful your research is; he just gets overeager, especially when Lucy's involved.”

“I know you know how important it is,” his words sent butterflies through you, “but Lockwood just…” He gave a frustrated huff. “Maybe I should make him do all the legwork for a change.” You tried very hard not to think about whether George's legs were as muscular as his arms.

“I'll support whatever you decide, but for what it's worth I think you should just talk to him.”

He sighed heavily, placing his hands flat on the table and allowing his head to drop. “You're right. Thanks, y/n.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, as did his deep brown eyes as he raised his head to look at you. You were already distracted by the tension which lingered in his shoulders, the rigidity of his arms as they supported his weight, the way he had leaned into the pose so much that now when he looked up his face was so close it almost filled your vision. You swallowed nervously.

“Any time. I- I have to go.” You stumbled up from your chair, ignoring George's confused stare and sounds of protest as you practically bolted from the room.

—

You lay on your bed in the attic, tears slowly soaking into the pillow you'd buried your face in. This was the end; it had to be. You couldn't carry on working for the agency like this. If George had shown any interest it would be okay - Lockwood and Lucy managed to balance being a couple who worked and lived together, there was no reason you two couldn't do the same, but it could never work being so one-sided. You'd just keep being weird, struggling to hold your nerve around the boy until it would start bleeding into cases and Lockwood would have no choice but to fire you for everyone's safety, if you hadn't already got one of you hurt by then. Not to mention the emotional hurt. It would happen either way, but at least if you walked away now you could control it.

“Y/n?” Lucy's voice came tentatively from the bottom of the steps. “George said you ran off, is everything okay?”

You flipped onto your back, drawing in shuddering breaths to recover from almost suffocating in the pillow. “You were right, Luce.” There was movement on the steps, but you kept your eyes on the ceiling. You couldn't bear to look at anyone right now. “I tried so hard to make sure neither of us got hurt, but George doesn't love me back and now I feel like even if I stay I'm going to lose him.”

The silence that followed dragged on longer than you could bear. Why wasn't she saying anything? You forced yourself to sit up.

George stood at the entrance to your room, eyes wide and lips parted.

You scrambled to your feet. “Shit! I mean, hi, um… how long have you been there?”

George continued to stare.

“I'm so sorry,” the words were rushing out of you now, “I just panicked but I don't want to make things weird so can we just pretend-”

“What do you mean, ‘doesn't love me back'?” he interrupted quietly.

You froze. There was no mistaking it: he'd heard you basically say you loved him and now there he was looking like the mere concept was so unbelievable, like the option hadn't even crossed his mind. Why would it? Time stretched on as you fought the urge to run again, as far as the ever-widening space between you would allow. Neither of you had moved, but you could feel the room expanding around you to make room for the bottomless pit you wanted to crawl into. “I…” you drew in a slow, deep breath, “I was fine just being friends but Lucy got in my head about you being exactly my type and now I think I'm actually flirting while you're still just pretending and I'm sorry…” Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes and you hurriedly looked away, hoping he wouldn't see.

George stepped closer, and you shrunk even further into yourself. Your heart skipped a beat when he gently tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly soft gaze. “I meant, why do you think I don't love you back?”

You faltered. Was he saying what you thought he was? “Well, I mean, I thought I'd made things super obvious and awkward but you didn't change so I thought you weren't interested.”

George's hand was still on your chin and his thumb rubbed soothingly across your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had spilled. “I thought you weren't interested! You normally go for those muscly gym guys so I figured I'd take whatever I could get with the arm wrestles and stuff, but then you started avoiding me so I thought you were done with it.”

A small laugh escaped you, and he looked at you in confusion. “Have you seen yourself?” Hesitantly, you raised a hand to his bicep, marvelling at finally being able to feel the muscle instead of just staring at it, and more amazed at the way the boy responded to your touch, drifting closer until you were barely inches apart.

“So then why did you run?” His voice was whisper soft against your face, eyes gazing down at you with an overwhelming blend of sincerity, bewilderment and something like longing. His cheeks were tinted as pink as you knew yours were.

“Got flustered.”

“Flustered? You? I don't believe you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, the playfulness you were used to creeping back into his voice. It was such a relief to feel the tension dissipating from the room, to have your George back, that you buried your head in his shoulder with a giggle. He laughed too, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Oh, I see, you really want to do this? Okay, let's see ‘flustered y/n’ at their best.”

You yelped in surprise as his other arm hooked under your legs and swept you off your feet, your arms flying up round his neck for support. His arm was tense across your back but he looked the most relaxed he'd been since he walked in, and he shifted you closer to press a quick kiss to your lips before setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you.

“Lucy's going to be very smug about this, you know,” he nudged you.

“I know,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Rock paper scissors for who has to tell her.” George laughed again and placed his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as you leant into the embrace.

“Is this just a ploy to get more hugs?”

“Is it working?”

In response, he brought his other arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. You smiled, leaning up to kiss him properly, and he reciprocated eagerly.

—

Lucy had left George alone on the steps to your room once you started your confession, giving you both a bit of privacy, and decided when he didn't come back downstairs immediately that things had either gone very badly or very well. She believed, and hoped, that it was the latter. Her suspicions were confirmed when she came to tell you she'd made breakfast and found you fast asleep, wrapped in George's arms.

#george karim x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fanfiction #george karim #gn!reader #multiverse of george #buff!george

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luveline · 1 year

Note

Here’s an idea for the roan and eddie series?,,

what if Roan gets a bad toothache and Eddie + The reader have to take her to the dentist but it’s her first time so she’s extra scared and nervous about the dentist Eddie and The reader help try to get her to feel better about it

thank you anon! dad!eddie x almost step mom!reader, 2.5k

tw for dentist’s office visit and related minor trauma, minor oral surgery, sedation, infection and blood (there’s no graphic description but mentioned)

You're sitting in the back seat of Eddie's car, gaze flitting between his stone-set brow and his crying daughter intermittently. You've never seen Roan in pain like this before, and Eddie's reaction is heartbreaking.

"I want more Mapap," Roan says tearfully, cheeks shining wet with tears and bright red, "Dad, I want Mapap, please."

He keeps his focus on the road, but his voice betrays his panic, "You can have more in just a minute, babe. One minute."

"I want it now," she says.

Her toothache began a few nights ago after a mishap with a sharp tortilla chip. She'd cried unexpectedly —the older she gets, the better she handles small pains— and Eddie had doted on her lovingly, rubbing her back for hours until she was calm enough to show him the fallout. He shined a torch into her mouth and found the problem, a cracked baby tooth, her spit orangey-red with blood.

He called the dentist the next morning, though she'd woken up without a fuss, and they'd agreed to see her in four days time to make sure it wasn't a problem.

Three days later, it’s definitely a problem. Clearly the cracked tooth and exposed gum has become infected and left your poor almost-daughter in a lot of pain (almost because you and Eddie aren’t married yet, not because you don't love her like one).

You give her knee a little rub, shushing and humming as sympathetically as you can.

"Almost there," you murmur.

"It hurts," she says sullenly, "daddy, I want the Mapap."

Eddie's shoulder tense. He's not mad, you know that, he's just not sure what he can do. He licks his lips, turning into the parking lot, and doesn't answer until he's parked.

"I'm coming, Ro," he says, "two seconds."

Eddie gets out of the car. You wait for him to open her door and scoop her out of her car seat before you get out yourself, dipping into the passenger side for the papers he'd set aside earlier, all of her medical information in a neat folder.

You're pretty sure he forgets to lock the car, pat pat patting Roan's back as you begin the short walk to the dentist's office. Roan whines for painkillers and Eddie praises her for being so good rather than refuse her again, "You're so brave, babe," he says, arms full as you reach the door.

You put your hand on his elbow before you open it. "I got this," you say.

He nods stiffly. Together, you enter the dentist's office and Eddie quickly takes a seat, Roan longer than ever and yet impossibly small as she curls up in his lap, her swollen cheek held away from his chest.

"I want to go home," she says, "I don't like it in here. I want to see Uncle Wayne."

"Hi," you say as you approach the front desk, wincing at her crying behind you as it grows louder, "we’re here for an emergency appointment for Roan Munson."

The receptionist smiles, clicking Roan's name into the computer. She nods, ticks a box or two, and hands you a clipboard. "Fill this in, please. The dentist is on schedule, so it should be any minute now. Don't worry about finishing the form in time, as long as you hand it back before you leave."

"Thank you."

Eddie's promising things as you return, hand on Roan's knee. "I swear, sweetheart, it'll stop hurting any minute now. The dentist will give you a little bit of medicine to make the pain stop, and then he'll fix your tooth. How's that sound?"

"I want medicine at the house," she says, eyes wide.

Her wriggling panic from the pain has abated some now Eddie's holding her, but she hates the dentist, and it's written plainly on her face. The poor baby is terrified.

You fill in her clipboard forms as best as you can. You're a Roan expert at home, having known her for more than a year and loving her that whole time, but there's some medical stuff you can't answer. You don't know what her blood type is, you certainly can't tell them where she was born. You assume Hawkin's general hospital, but you just don't know. If they wanted to know her favourite pair of shoes, or what shape she likes her pancakes in, you’d be the girl to ask.

"You gotta fill this in," you say.

Eddie looks up. "What?"

"I don't know this stuff, sorry."

He gives you a quick smile and takes the clipboard. "That's alright," he says, pressing it to Roan's leg. "Roan doesn't know your blood type either. Equal exchange."

You crouch down by their seat and meet Roan's eyes. Tender, you tuck a sweaty curl behind her ear and give her your softest smile.

"You're so brave, princess. You just tell me what you want after this and we'll go get it. Anything you want."

Her lip wobbles. "It's scary in here," she says, like she's breathless.

You find her hand and take a deep breath, hoping she'll take her own to match.

“Don’t be scared. Me and dad are right here with you. Don’t be scared.” You smile at her, though really you want to frown, perturbed by her sniffling and her rumpled hair, her tear-sticky collar. “You think I’d let them hurt my girl? No way. We’re here to make you feel better, and I promise that’s all we’re gonna do. Me and dad aren’t going anywhere.”

She gets called into the dentist's office soon after. You take back the clipboard and Eddie puts her down on her own two feet for the short walk into the room, wiping his face with the back of his hand. You say polite and rushed hellos to the dentist and her assistant.

"Hi, Roan," says Dr. Mackenzie, a tall, pretty black woman in scrubs and a white doctor’s coat . She’s known Roan since she had teeth to look at, but her presence unfortunately doesn't calm her. "I didn't think we'd see you so soon. What's the matter, hun?"

"She cracked her tooth on a tortilla chip," Eddie says succinctly, though he does add, "Hi, Dr. Mackenzie. It's good to see you."

She waves her hand at Eddie, grinning at you. "God, he's charming. Alright, Roan, let's have you up on the big chair. Dad can hold your hand, here we go."

The assistant stands with her prepped tools, and Dr. Mackenzie grabs the circle light and moves it over Roan' face. Eddie rubs her little knuckles in a careful hold as Dr. Mackenzie investigates the wound. You stand off to the side feeling useless and wishing you were the one holding Roan's hand as she yelps.

"I see," Dr. Mackenzie says. "Okay, so this is the tooth with the cavity we filled last time, do you remember? It's only a little tooth, and we wanted to prolong its lifespan, but the filling we used was a temporary one because it was white. White fillings look good, but they aren't as strong, and you must've had a very sharp chip. So what I want to do now is take an x-ray to assess the infection, and then we'll fix your poor tooth. How does that sound, dad?"

"Is it a bad infection?" Eddie asks worriedly.

Dr. Mackenzie shakes her head. "Not necessarily, but the tooth is cracked all the way to the root, that's why she's in so much pain."

"Can I have Mapap now?" Roan asks, when the mirror tool's and the lollipop stick have been removed from her mouth.

"Something stronger," Dr. Mackenzie agrees.

You and the dentists have to step out of the room for the x-ray, but it only takes a second. Eddie stays and absorbs whatever miniscule radiation it is that's exuded. They don't show Roan, but the infection is a small abscess in her gum wrapped around the root of the tooth. Dr. Mackenzie has a couple of options for treatment, but the best and luckiest is that Roan can either be put under mild sedation or she can breathe some nitrous oxide, both methods avoiding all the pain and traumatic memory of an extraction.

"It's more expensive to be sedated," Dr. Mackenzie says, because she has to. "But it's what I recommend."

Eddie's at the point where you're sure he'd do anything. "Then we'll do what you recommend," he says.

"Alright. We'll only need a few minutes to prepare. Has she eaten today?"

"Breakfast, but nothing since, she can't," you say.

"Alright. Roan, I'm gonna give you a glucose dissolvable, hun. It tastes very sweet and chalky, but I want you to try and let it dissolve on your tongue, okay? You don't have to chew it."

Roan eats the glucose tablet. You and Eddie stand hip to hip and as out of the way as you can manage as they prepare the room for her procedure, laying the chair very flat. When it's time to start, they usher you back to the chair at the opposite end of the room. Eddie holds her hand the whole time. They medicate her, and you're glad she's sedated, even if the procedure isn't especially brutal. They clamp and wiggle out her broken tooth in two clean pieces in about a minute, before draining the abscess and packing her wound with gauze. It's done in fifteen minutes altogether.

They give her a couple of minutes to come around properly, asking guiding questions. Do you feel any pain, hun? Dizziness? Do you feel sick?

Eddie doesn't let her walk. He picks her up with infinite gentleness and positions her head on his shoulder like a pillow, smoothing the hair from her face a strand at a time as the dentist talks about cleaning and prevention of further infection.

"She might, uh, need to spit," the assistant remarks.

Drool dribbles down Eddie's front. He's practically all smiles now that she's finally out of pain. "That's okay, I'm used to it by now."

Back to the waiting room for more paperwork. There will be another heap to come in the mail sure enough, you can already picture the arguments you're going to have on the phone with Eddie's insurance,

"World's most expensive bag of Doritos," you remark on the way back to the car.

Eddie's thumb rubs thoughtlessly against the bumps of her spine. "My girl," he says, not talking to you, lips on Roan's forehead, "poor girl. Though I bet that's much better relief than a spoonful of Mapap, huh?" He kisses her smooth forehead. "You're the bravest girl in the whole world."

His severeness startles you, but of course you agree. "The bravest in the universe," you agree. "How about I drive, handsome?"

Eddie dotes the entire drive. You make a stop at the store for soft foods, ice cream and yogurt and soup, as well as a cute cup to make the salt water wash she's going to have to endure more appetising, as well as some general treats. Eddie, usually averted to you spending money on treats, doesn't say a bad word when you show him the new pyjamas, socks, and Barbie doll you've bought for her. He strokes some life into Roan's cheek and says, "Oh, look what Y/N's got for you, angel."

"This isn't her present," you say firmly, turning back to the wheel. "She still gets to choose something else."

Eddie kisses the top of her head, pleased when she has the sense about her to say, "My mouth tastes funny."

"Yeah?" he asks. "You want to drink some of my water?"

She drinks some water, though the majority of it ends up back in the bottle. She's still mildly woozy when you park the car in the driveway to your house and usher them inside of your sanctuary. Eddie's wrapped her up like an octopus, unwilling to part with her, and for once allowing you to expend some of your own energy on things that need to get down. You set them up with drinks and blankets and TV while you clean the mess of the kitchen. You give yourself a breather by the open window, and it's quiet enough to hear Eddie's praising murmurs.

"You're so, so brave, Ro. You're such a brave girl, and me and Y/N have never been so proud of you… I know this has been a really hard week for you, and I promise I'm gonna make it up, okay? I love you."

"...Love you, daddy."

"I love you," he says again. "Can I have a look at your gauze, sweetheart?"

"I'm tired."

"Really quickly. Really quickly, and then we'll get you into some pyjamas."

There's a gap of silence.

"Dad, you have yucky stuff on your t-shirt."

"Ew, I know. I was just crying so much worried about you," he teases.

You grin at his silly fib and trek back into the living room where Roan's propped back on her big fluffy pillow on the couch, Eddie leaning over her just slightly. He's inching forward threateningly, Roan's gross dribble splotch on his chest and growing closer and closer. She giggles lazily.

"Don't," she begs.

"Don't what? You don't wanna hug me?"

"Get changed, dad," she says, pushing his chest away.

He sits up, noticing you where you wait by the back of the couch. "Hey. Y/N's gonna sit with you and I'm gonna change my shirt, okay? I'll be really fast, Ro, and then you owe me a hug."

Roan sighs morosely. "Okay, you can have a hug now."

"I can?" Eddie beams at you, beams at his girl, and looks properly light-hearted for the first time in days. "Thanks, Roan. You're the bestest."

"I know."

Eddie grabs blindly for you and tugs you down to join the hug wonkily. It’s haphazard and ill-fitting, but he squeezes your shoulder, and you try to get in on the love. It reminds you of any other night.

Eddie tears himself away from her eventually to change. You stop him from stepping around you, taking his stubbly cheek into your hand. “Good job, Munson,” you say, letting your hand slide down his neck to the curve of his shoulder. “You were…” You swallow down the cheesy praise you were going to give him. “I think you deserve a treat too.”

“We all do,” he says. “I know you were freaked out–”

“I wasn’t,” you interrupt, though you concede, “Okay, a little bit.”

“Me too. I’m majorly impressed by how fast they fixed her.”

“You’ll be majorly impressed by the bill,” you joke softly.

He steals a hug. “Ah, well. Worth every penny, right?”

You hug him back. “Definitely,” you agree. She’s worth whatever it costs. “Good thing we’ve been saving. Goodbye, familymoon.”

“We’re still going on vacation,” he says. He pulls back to chuck you under the chin. “Even if we have to walk there.”

“Dad, can I spit again? My mouth tastes bad,” Roan says.

You usher him upstairs and tend to his daughter unflinchingly, happy to take the icky job. She’s worth a million times more than a vacation, and you’d deal with worse than spit if it means she feels better.

—

more eddie, roan and reader <3

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dearly-somber · 6 months

Text

Haircut | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), humor, found family, angst, drama, eventual romance, eventual smut, high school!au

-> w/c. 1982

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This ended so silly so goofy smdhjaheb

-> warnings. None!!

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Aug. 14th, 2022 @ 19:49

-> fin. Thurs., Nov. 20th, 2023 @ 04:43

-> edited. Fri., Dec. 1st, 2023 @ 12:55

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

“You’re kidding right?”

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his hands with a furrow in his brow. “No…”

Y/N laughs, rocking forward to smack his knee familiarly. “You seriously got detention because your hair was too long? That’s ridiculous!”

“I know,” he whines, running a hand through said hair and sighing deeply as he lays back with his legs crossed, splaying his arms over the bed.

Y/N giggles as she stands, sympathetically patting his shoulder. “Is there really no way out of it?”

“Not unless I can book an appointment before school tomorrow.” Y/N cringes. “Yeah,” he sighs.

It’s so dumb. He didn’t get in trouble the entire week! Not one teacher mentioned it, and then during his last period on a Thursday evening, bam! Detention slip. And, obviously, it was from his least favorite teacher, Ms Kang, who he was pretty sure hated his guts for no other reason than she couldn’t fuck him. He’s honestly surprised that she hasn’t been reported for sexual harassment yet, but he swears if she touches his shoulder in class one more time…

Jungkook’s brought back to the present at the sound of drawers opening and closing, his attention piqued. The thing that spurs him into motion is the realization that Y/N is rummaging through his drawers and she might accidentally happen upon his underwear.

“What’re you looking for?” he asks, pushing up off the bed to sit with his feet hanging off the side.

“A comb.” She closes his sock drawer with a sigh. “Do you have one?”

His eyes flit to the hand she has wrapped around the dreaded underwear drawer handle. “In my bathroom. Why?”

She mutters to herself, “‘Course it’s in the bathroom, why didn’t I think of that?” Then, louder, “Wanna comb your hair first.”

“‘First’?” Jungkook repeats quizzically.

“Mm,” she hums, turning to him with a smile. “Gonna cut it for you.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Sure!” She pulls him into the bathroom by his wrist, crouching to dig through his sink cupboard and turning back to him with a smile on her face and a comb in her hand.

“Uh…” Jungkook isn’t sure what to think. Does he like it when she plays with his hair? Yes. Does he trust her with his life? More than yes.

But his hair?

“I think I’d rather just go to detention…”

She punches his arm with a shake of her head. “My dad’s a barber, dickhead. I’m gonna get the water ready so long—can you change into swim shorts?”

“I…” Jungkook wants to say no and drag her back to bed so they could watch their silly little dramas and forget about how their plans to go to the movies tomorrow would be canceled because of some stupid detention slip, but Y/N’s eyes are sparkling and her voice is light, so he groans instead.

She smiles knowingly, turning her back to him as she starts fiddling with the handles in the bath, the water running as he goes to change, closing the bathroom door behind him.

He pulls his pants down and briefly considers changing out of his boxers before ultimately deciding to keep it on under the plain black swimming trunk he pulls out of his bottommost drawer.

He’s a little nervous for whatever Y/N has planned, but more than that, he’s excited. Whatever this is, he can feel deep in his stomach it’s going to be domestic and likely set his wolf off in the most pleasant way.

As he enters the bathroom, his eyes fall on Y/N. She’s standing inside the bath with her pants rolled up just under her knees, her shirt sleeves rolled up above her elbow, a comb and a bottle of shampoo in her hands.

“Well?” She beckons him closer. “What’re you waiting for?” Jungkook lets out a baffled laugh. She leads him inside the bathtub before gently pressing down on his shoulders so he’s facing the wall with his back to her, his legs crossed in front of him.

He feels Y/N slot her feet next to him, feels how her legs cocoon his arms. The water is pleasantly warm around his lap as she begins brushing through his unruly strands of hair.

She giggles softly. “I can’t believe you didn’t cut your hair,” she says, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I didn’t think it was long enough to get me in trouble,” he grumbles with his eyes closed. “We grow our hair out all the time, so no one thought it would be an issue.”

Truthfully, Jungkook didn’t want to cut it because he knew Y/N liked it long, and wanted an excuse to keep it that way.

She tsks playfully, dragging the comb from the very top of his head (literally an inch short of his forehead) all the way down to the shorter strands of hair at his nape. “Guess it gives me an excuse to play with your hair, huh?”

“Guess so,” he mumbles, his chest warm and bubbly. “I didn’t know your dad was a barber,” he says.

“I guess it’s never really come up in conversation,” she replies, setting the comb aside and reaching for the detachable shower-head. She tests the temperature on her palm, water dripping onto the side of Jungkook’s arm before she interrupts with a little gasp, “Shit! I forgot about your shirt.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook waves her off. “I’ll change into a different one when you’re done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook imagines Y/N skeptically biting her lip. “Alright. Lemme know if the water’s too hot, yeah?”

Jungkook grunts as a reply, a soft noise leaving his lips without him meaning to at the feel of the water on his scalp.

She runs her fingers over his head, cupping her hands over his eyes to stop the water from going into his face.

“Did…did your dad teach you how to do all this stuff?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing as his wolf croons at the way Y/N lathers shampoo into his hair.

“Yeah, kinda,” she replies focused-sounding. “He took me to work sometimes, so I watched him a lot. Picked up on most of it that way, if I wasn’t asking questions.”

“That sounds really nice,” he mumbles distractedly, smiling softly at the image of baby-Y/N being taught how to wash one of those Barbie head’s hair properly.

“It was.” She makes sure to get the shampoo in the hair behind his ears as well. Jungkook can’t help but sigh contentedly, unable to find it in himself to care when Y/N giggles teasingly.

“You good?” she asks, a smile in her voice.

“Feels really nice,” Jungkook replies softly, his heart probably beating slow enough to make a cardiologist worry for his health.

After Y/N lathers the shampoo on, she rinses his hair out, applies conditioner, rinses that out, and then gently taps his shoulder. “C’mon Wolfy, let’s go downstairs.”

“Wolfy?”

“What?”

Jungkook smiles wide at her offended pout, throwing the towel she hands him over his shoulders. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Whatever,” she humphs. “Go down to the kitchen when you’re done changing so we can cut your hair.”

Jungkook salutes. “On it!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“Okay, you ready?” Y/N asks, excitedly snipping the scissors next to his ear.

Even though Jungkook feels his stomach drop, he puts on a brave face. “Let’s go!”

Y/N grins, running the comb through his hair one last time before pulling the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck between her forefinger and middle finger, waiting a second before quickly snipping off the hair.

“Your hair’s gotten so long…”

“Should you be talking right now? Shouldn’t you focus on not cutting off too much?”

“Yah!” Y/N laughs in disbelief as she smacks his shoulder with the fist she has closed around the comb, tsking disappointedly as she continues snipping at his hair. She moves strategically around the back of his head, eventually maneuvering around to the front to cut his bangs.

“Seriously though, your hair’s grown a lot. I didn’t think you’d ever let it get this long.” She brushes through his hair again.

“Why?” he asks with closed eyes, both to keep the conversation going and also out of genuine curiosity.

She shrugs. “I dunno. You just never seemed like a long-hair kinda guy? It looks good on you, though. The long hair, I mean.”

“What else would you mea—stop hitting me!” Jungkook pouts as he brings a hand up to rub at his bicep, scowling under his bangs.

“Just…shut up. Stop nitpicking everything I say.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, eh?” He reaches out to tug at her shirt, smiling satisfied when she huffs defeatedly and pats his hand before she starts cutting bangs.

“All hairstyles look good on you, though. It’s kind of unfair, actually.”

Jungkook scoffs, letting his eyes drift closed as Y/N grabs the blow-dryer (which he assumes she brought down from one of the bathrooms) and plugs it into a socket on the wall. She starts it up, then immediately stops.

He turns his head to the side to look at her. “What?”

“I’ve never thought to ask, but does the sound not hurt your ears?”

Jungkook frowns for a second, then lights up in understanding the next. “Oh! No, not really. It’s loud, sure, but you’d have to have really sensitive ears for it to hurt.”

“Ah, okay.” Y/N nods as she puts one hand on his shoulder, standing behind him. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

As the blow dryer turns on and drowns out any attempt at conversation, Jungkook can’t help but smile to himself.

She doesn’t want to hurt him. That’s a relief. Hopefully, she won’t have to. Soon, right? At the very least, Jungkook knows any hurt isn’t intentional…

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“Alright! We’re done!”

You set the dryer to the side as you pull the plug out of the socket, walking around to look at the finished product of your hard work, only to find him asleep.

You smile softly at the way Jungkook’s chin rests against his chest, lips slightly parted in sleep. His hair is not only shorter now (even though you kept some of the length, because you couldn’t find it in yourself to cut it all off), but it’s clean and fluffy and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.

Which you do—you reach out and card your fingers through his bangs and over his scalp, just kind of fondly staring at him while he sleeps, before realizing that that might be a bit weird.

“Jungkook?” Your voice is softer than you meant it to be, but you don’t mind. He’s so innocent when he’s asleep, it’s kind of awe-inducing. “Kookie?”

“Mngf?” Jungkook’s eyes open blearily, confusedly sitting straighter in his chair as he takes in his surroundings.

“I’m done, Koo. Go lay down on the couch if you’re feeling tired, you’ll hurt your neck.”

He grumbles something under his voice as he gets up from the chair, towering over you (damn his long legs).

Your eyes widen in surprise when Jungkook sleepily stumbles toward you, nuzzling into your neck as his arms wrap weakly around your middle. “Thanks, Bunny.”

You’re beyond happy that Jungkook can’t read minds, because in that moment you find yourself—for the split of a second—thinking about Jungkook in a not-so-best-friend way. “Sure, Kook.”

He drags himself to the couch, unceremoniously climbing over the back and flopping onto his stomach with a loud oof.

You press the back of your hands to your cheeks in order to cool them down, shaking yourself free of the stupid butterflies in your stomach as you grab a broom and sweep your best friend’s auburn hair out to the backyard.

Stupid haircut…

308 notes · View notes

sharksupermacy · 9 months

Text

k. (pt2.)

k. (pt2.) - jihyo x idol! reader

synopsis: part 2 of k.

genre: angst?, communications actually????, yes ik your response would never fly in asia, mentions of soojin (DO NOT THROW HATE ON HER), swearing, 1.1k words pt1. pt.3

the reason was simple. you had gotten a good enough score on your CSAT to be able to go to any university you desired. So you had set your heart on attending Seoul National University for a M.D. of psychiatry. Maybe it was your desire to know why jihyo had made the decision to break up with you without your approval, or maybe you just wanted to find another way to make people smile. whatever the case, you still got accepted to SNU program in psychiatry.

psychiatry was fun aside from the endless nights of studying, writing papers, and consuming energy drinks. it was still your first year when you started selling some of your songs to JYP for money and when cube entertainment reached out to you.

the email that changed your future again read as follows:

dear y/l/n y/n,

we hope this email finds you well. we were wondering if you were willing to participate in our new upcoming girl group project. although we cannot tell you the names of other members at this time, we can confirm that this will be a seven-member girl group. we heard wonderful things about you from other trainees and entertainment, and we would love to have you on board this project. If you wish to know further details about this group, please come in soon, as this is a limited-time offer.

futher thanks,

cube entertainment staff

you had a dilemma. as much as you wanted to live a normal life as a psychiatrist helping people, something inside you was yearning to take this opportunity to debut. after all, it was what you had trained for over 4 years at JYP for. two hours later, you had reached your final decision. taking up your laptop, you typed out a simple response to the cube team, forever changing the future you had laid out for yourself.

when is the closest available appointment

sincerely,

y/l/n y/n

sent.

time skip (abt a year)

you weren't going to lie that the past years had been brutual being put through evaluation after evaluation, but hey. you had six awesome girls to rely on, and better yet, you had a name to call all of yourselves. (G)I-dle. man, what a name soyeon came up with, and better yet it fit all seven of you very well. it was worth every ache to just debut with this group... i wonder if this is what jihyo felt when she made her debut. you and soyeon even made a song together that ended up on the album, which was kinda cool.

as soon as you knew it MAMA's rolled around, and you knew that your group excitement couldn't be contained when your arms started hurting from being smacked on the arm so many times by yuqi who was beside you when the news came. as the leader and soojin tried to calm the two youngers down, you were with minnie, and miyeon where a question that threw you off so much was asked innocently by miyeon, "do you think twice will be there?"

she looked at you, knowing that you were a JYP entertainment trainee who probably knew the most, if twice were going to be there. after all, you guys must have been friends. you responded, scratching the back of your neck a little, and tried to say in a nonchalant way "i'm not sure, but they probably will be there since it's MAMA's."

the older nodded and went back on her phone; however, minnie looked at you for a second, taking note of your unusual response to miyeon. then going back onto her phone, you, on the other hand, were sweating buckets, thinking of maybe seeing your ex at the award show. you still haven't unblocked her number, or any of twice for that matter... but then the thought hit you.

you haven't unblocked any of twice yet... maybe you should unblock one. you felt bad for dragging all of your and her friends into the messy part of your relationship. debating between the latter, you ended up unblocking one person, mina. you weren't exactly close with her, but you saw the text kept ringing one by one. 216 messages. 125 missed calls. HOLY FUCK- you thought. you didn't even talk to the girl that much, and the last one was on your debut date, May 2 2018.

peguin minguin: happy debut date! hope you're will do well!!! i'm cheering you on!! fighting!!

you bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears from reading the message, before excusing yourself to the bathroom. typing the response to mina.

traingle goof: thanks mina! I hope your yes and yes promotions are going well!!! i'll be cheering from the sidelines for you!! fighting!!!

returning back to your room after sending that message, trying to help soyeon and soojin calm the youngers down.

mina pov:

it was another tireless day of promotion, and with our schedule being so packed by JYP, i was ready to just straight out pass out on to the bed. a thought passed by me to check my phone just in case anything important happened or someone texted me. while scrolling through the notifications quickly, something caught my eye, traingle goof , no way. i screamed causing jeongyeon and nayeon to run quickly to me. jeongyeon gave me the good look up and down and nayeon well she was tired and asking what i was screaming about. i showed them the text. "no fucking way," nayeon says while being hit by jeonyeon who didn't see.

however, the face on jeongyeon face when she saw the message was priceless; her jaw dropped wide open. she grumbled out a reply, "i don't understand why she would contact you out of all people. she wasn't really that close to you."

i understood her logic for thinking that way, and sure, we weren't really close, but we still understood each other. hell, they were closer than i ever was. i walked over to sana, who seemed to have almost just slept, until i shook her a bit and showed her the messages. she shot up almost immediately, asking me in japanese if the message i showed her was fake. she started texting y/n again, asking if she had unblocked her again. no response. then she turned back to me, asking if i could text her. so i typed out a simple response to y/n

penguin menguin: thank you! are you and your group going to MAMA this year? maybe the j-line and 2yeon could meet up with you guys!

a response was sent. now all she had to do was wait. little does she know that a figure saw a flash of mina screen when walking by.

a/n ok why is this actually like taking more than 2 parts than i thought it would be i promise it will be 3 chapters manifesting it will be. anyways yea MISAMO STREAM IK THEY'RE PROMTIONS PERIOD IS OVER BUT LIKE PLS THIER ALBUM IS LITTERALLY SO PERFECT

#park jihyo imagines #jihyo x reader #park jihyo x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines

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mytheoristavenue · 2 years

Note

I just refound my hyperfixation with franken stein from soul eater and was wondering if you would write nsfw stein/maid! Reader?

Sure, thanks for the ask, and sorry for the wait!

SE Franken Stein x Maid!Reader 🍋 - Commands

Summary: Your new employer decides to correct you after finding your service to not be up to his standards.

Warning: Rough, unprotexted sex, hard dom!stein, sub!reader, fem!reader, service!sub, kinda short

"(Y/N)," your employer called, prompting you to toddle over to him in the kitchen. "How many times am I going to have to correct you before you can do things correctly?" he asked ominously, cocking his head a bit and erecting his arm to crank the bolt lodged in his temple.

"Apologies, sir," you mumbled. "What was it that I did wrong?"

"Taste this." he ordered, shoving a mug in your face. Hesitantly, you took in by its handle and took a sip, instantly grimacing at the taste.

"Tea?" you whispered under your breath, confused. Why was there tea in the coffee canister?

"Correct. And what did I ask for?" His confirmation startled you, as you hadn't anticipated him hearing you.

"Coffee, sir." you answered shamefully, setting the cup down to go make him a fresh cup. "Apologies."

"That won't be enough this time," you could here his teeth grind when he spoke, making your skin crawl as he grabbed you by the wrist to pull you back to him. "I'm going to teach you a lesson this time."

-----

"Watch those teeth or you'll lose them." he commanded down to you as you diligently sucked him off, making sure to take everything he said straight to heat, lest you screw up again. "That's better." He purred, holding your head still in an effort to fuck your throat more comfortably. Stein leaned against the refrigerator tiredly, his head tilted back against it, not only out of bliss, but exhaustion. He'd had a long day and he didn't have the energy to look after you to make sure you did things properly.

"If you were half as good at you job as you are at sucking dick, we might just get along." he remarked with a throaty chuckle. "But you're not, so I guess this is all your good for." You took in his displeased words as they went straight to your heat. You wanted so desperately to sink your fingers into your core while you pleasured him, letting his distain for you ag you on, but you knew better. Stein was a cold, uncaring man, and you knew for a fact that if Death himself hadn't appointed you to keep his lab clean, you'd be on the streets.

Suddenly, you felt a harsh slap deliver to your cheek, causing you to withdrawal from him, alarmed. "Teeth." he reminded.

"S-Sorry," you whined, brows knitted together shyly as you gazed up at him.

"God, you're pathetic." he moaned, releasing a shaky breath as you licked a stripe up his shaft. "Either you're such a little snowflake that you're going to cry over one little slap, or you're getting pleasure from this." he noted breathlessly, before pressing his palm to your forehead and pushing you to the floor. "Either way, that I'm not going to let that happen." He growled, approaching you, and manhandling you off the ground.

-----

You whined hopelessly as the man of the house held you as you were laid out on the kitchen table, fucking into your weeping whole like he hated you, and in many ways, he did. You vexed him constantly with your sickeningly sweet tone, your stupid mistakes, and the way you said things that drove him wild, entirely unintentionally. He gripped your thigh tighter, your leg half hazard slung over his shoulder, while the other dangled off the table.

"Dick dumb little whore," he grunted, sweat dripping off his brow and landing on your uniform. "Can't even make a simple cup of fucking coffee."

Your face felt numb, and you struggled to form a single coherent thought as he pounded you into the table, simply uttering choked attempts at his title. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"Fuck," he groaned as your walls clenched around him, squeezing for all he was worth. "Better not fucking cum, I swear to God, I'll hurt you so bad." His threats did nothing to stop your climax from washing over you. If anything, they made it stronger, the thought of all the ways he could harm you tasting delicious in your mind. Your pelvis rose off the table as your legs began to tremble, your gross noises spilling into the air, pissing him off even more. "God, you can't do anything fucking thing I tell you, can you?"

You neglected to answer him, simply laying limp against the cold surface, you eyes rolled back and drool dribbling down your chin from your ajar lips. "Don't think that just because you came I'm gonna stop," he warned, tossing your leg off him and gripping your hips as harshly as he could, fingernails digging crescent moons into your supple flesh.

"Gonna fuck you until you learn your Goddamn lesson."

#soul eater smut #professor stein #stein x reader #franken stein #stein smut #soul eater x reader

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ladylooch · 1 year

Note

Could you do something about doing tiktok pranks on Nico? Maybe like the flashing him when arguing, the “i got waxed by a guy”, and wiping off his kisses?

A/N: hahahahaha I love these TikTok’s. Let’s make our significant others hate us by making them question our entire relationship. Alright Nico, you’re up 😈 I'm picking one for now to do a shorter blurb, but can expand in the future!

Word Count: 615

Warnings: Swearing

The 2023 All-Star break is right around the corner. I couldn’t be more excited to leave the cold East Coast behind for the warmth of Tulum. I’ve been bustling around all day running errands. But, during my nail and hair appointments, I had an opportunity to scroll TikTok and there was a funny new prank I want to try on Nico. Although he isn’t an avid TikToker, he’s been a good sport about some of the dances and filters I’ve asked him to participate in. But I think it’s time for him to participate in something a little more interesting than coordinated couples dances.

I’m all set up when I hear him outside our apartment door. My phone is hiding between the flour and sugar jars on the counter to catch his reaction.

“I’m ready to go for our trip!” I exclaim to him when he comes into the kitchen.

“Yeah?” He smiles at my excitement. His hands come to my hips, anchoring there as he drops me a kiss. He goes to walk out of the frame but I hold him there.

“Let me tell you about my day!”

“Okay.” He looks down expectantly.

“I got my nails done.” I show off the hot pink dip. “And then I went to grab a few new pairs or shorts from the mall. Then, crisis was averted, when my wax girl was out of town. But luckily they had this new guy, Brad, and he was able to fit me in for an appointment.” Nico’s eyebrows immediately furrow at the male name. “And he was so gentle. Like soooooo gentle.” His hands drop from my hips so he can cross his arms over his chest.

“Babe.”

“Like I might stop seeing Brittany all together and just switch to Brad.” Nico’s eyes about bulge out of his head.

“Um.. I don’t think I’m cool with that.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t that.. weird… for a guy to do that?”

“I don’t think so.” I shrug. Nico pauses, staring at me like he isn’t sure what to say next. He’s never been one to tell me what I can and can’t do.

“Babe, are you serious?” My shoulders give a non-committal shrug. “Is he like married?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say. But he definitely thought you were lucky to have me.”

Nico throws his hands in the air and begins to stalk out of the kitchen. He begins to mutter in Swiss German which makes me realize he is legitimately angry.

“Neeks! It’s a joke!” I call after him. He pauses in the hallway, turning back to look at me. I grabbed my phone, showing him the video already playing back.

“Do not post that.” He scoffs at me, rolling his eyes and walking away. I purse my lips and follow him into our bedroom. “Fucking Brad.” He mumbles as he plops onto our bed. “The thing is, I couldn’t even blame the guy for admiring you.” His gaze trails along my body, stopping at the V of my legs.

“You’re so sweet. Complimenting me even when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, but I’m annoyed.” He shakes his head.

“Do I need to make it up to you?”

“Yeah, come rub my head.”

“Okay. I won’t post it if you don’t want me to.” I say as I climb into bed with him.

“Well, roll it back. Let me see how stupid you made me look.” He leans towards my phone as I drag my fingers against his scalp. We watch it and he ends up giving me approval to post it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah… I am.” I confirm with a kiss on his head.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #hockey writing #my writing #nhl fan fiction #new jersey devils #writing request

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starryeyedmunson · 2 years

Text

meet me in the pale moonlight - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: it’s based loosely on the song ‘meet me in the pale moonlight’ by lana del rey, you are liked by everyone in town, except by eddie munson. you were going to crack that kid one way or another, and you were ready to use your charm on him in more ways than one.

warnings: way too much smut (minors get out of here. go on, scram), swearing, mention of both drinking and drugs but no usage, kind of switch!eddie but leaning more dom, kind of switch!reader but leaning more sub, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, princess, pretty boy), oral (f and m receiving), p in v, slight breeding kink (i had to), choking, orgasm denial, slight bondage (ish, you’ll get it in context)

author’s note: i worked very hard on this so PLEASE show some love. also i’m writing this on my 6 hour flight home next to a man who is listening so intently to a joe rogan podcast, and i’m uncomfortable to say the least. hopefully this scares him away. enjoy this sex rant. (update: he watched me write every word and even ASKED ME what i was working on. i said homework. it’s literally summer. i’m not okay)

word count: 4.9k

with every step you took, another jaw dropped.

you, y/n y/l/n, had everyone in the palm of your hand. wherever you walked, countless pairs of eyes followed, and it earned you a spot at the cheerleaders and basketball players’ table. you set your tray down smiling, and you had an arm swung over your shoulder that belonged to your friend, miles. you laughed and pushed him off of you, then turned to your best friend, chrissy cunningham.

“hey, how was history?” she asked. “i had a doctor’s appointment, so i couldn’t go.”

“i wouldn’t know, i skipped,” you said with a smirk. she rolled her eyes and laughed, and you smiled along with her. your eyes scanned the cafeteria quickly until you landed on a certain table. a certain person.

remember the whole “everyone in the palm of your hand” thing? i forgot to mention the only exception.

eddie freaking munson.

he never took one look in your direction. ever. you looked at him every time he walked down the hallway, but he could not care less about your presence.

it was infuriating.

it wasn’t that you weren’t satisfied with everyone else’s eyes on you; you were. but something about eddie’s total lack of interest made you unable to give two shits about other looks that you were so used to. you knew he hated your friend group given that they bullied him literally every day, but you never partook. you just sat there, amused by his bizarre responses to the nasty comments your friends made. the way he didn’t care about what anyone thought of him intrigued you, and you decided that you wanted him. bad.

the lunch bell drew you from your own head, and you were tugged upwards by miles and jason. you slapped their hands away and got up yourself, walking to the class you all shared.

the rest of the day went by very quickly, and as you walked out of last period you were mauled by two freshmen.

“what the fuck!’ you yelled, whipping your head around to find a set of one curly-haired and another lanky and way-too-tall boys.

you looked at them with raised eyebrows before the tall one spoke.

“we- we’re so sorry,” he said wide-eyed. “we’re l-late for something and- i’m sorry w- we have to go,” speaking at a rate of a thousand words per minute.

you were barely registering as you looked down at their shirts. they matched eddie’s and you instantly came up with an idea. the boys were already scrambling away before you yelled at them.

“wait!” you said. they froze, then slowly turned around. you smiled sweetly and walked towards them. “wheeler, right?” you said to the almost-black haired boy. he gulped and nodded his head ‘yes’ a little too aggressively, and you gave him your signature cutesy laugh.

“listen,” you turned to the smaller boy who now spoke at you. “we would love to stay and chat, but we’re about to get our asses handed to us if we’re late for this thing.”

“your club, right?” you said, totally uninterested in the details. the wheeler kid nodded again. “i’ve always wanted to know what you guys really did, do you mind if i come?”

you watched them both look to each other, back to you, then to each other, then finally back to you.

“um, sure?” wheeler said. you clasped your hands together and smiled, completely aware of the effect of talking to a pretty senior girl was having on these two poor freshmen.

“lead the way,” you said.

you knew damn well you were not walking into that classroom to sit and pretend to be interested in whatever it was they did, so when you walked in with those two boys and everyone’s eyes widened, you thought you knew what you signed up for.

boy, you could not be more wrong.

there sat eddie, in some sort of throne. he didn’t even look up as he set up a folder and a book of some sort, messing around with the little statues and game pieces that littered the board.

“th-this is y/n,” one of the freshmen said. you waved a shy ‘hi’ at the group who sat there unmoving. you had to hide your smirk as they stared at you, but your confidence fell flat when the entire reason you came to the stupid club meeting looked at you with the most unimpressed expression you had ever witnessed.

“this is why you were late?” he said. the boys’ faces turned bright red, and they scurried towards the table. you cleared your throat before trying to work your magic.

“i was just curious about what your game actually was,” you said slowly, putting your hands innocently behind your back. his disinterested expression hardened, and you could tell he was not buying a single word that spilled from your mouth.

“that’s great, sweetheart, but i don’t care,” he said, his eyes moving back down to the table. you almost huffed in frustration, but you just cleared your throat and excused yourself, walking out of the classroom. the door closed behind you, and you let out a quiet groan. you were going to crack this kid if it was the last thing you did.

the next day rolled around, and there you were at lunch. you glared in eddie’s direction while he paid you no mind, but you were shaken from your concentration by chrissy.

“did you even hear me?” she said while laughing.

“what’d you say?” you said back.

“i said are you excited for the party tonight? i’ve been thinking about it all week and need to run some outfits by you,” she said rapidly. you rolled your eyes before replying.

“chris, we get drunk, like, every weekend. this probably isn’t going to be that much different than last friday. or the one before that. or the one before-“

“okay, okay, i get it,“ she said. “but what else is there to do? there’s not really another way to have fun besides, like, drugs or something.” the mention of drugs peaked your interest. you slowly turned your head to her with a knowing smirk, and she started shaking her head. “no no no, that was a joke, y/n,” but your smile grew even wider.

“come on, it’ll be so much fun. plus, i know exactly where to get them,” you said, the perfect plan falling into place.

“you? know where to buy-“ she cut herself off and gave you a look. “no. you might get possessed.”

“shut up, it’ll be fine,” you said before smirking. she raised her eyebrows before slowly nodding her head down and sighing.

“if he murders you, all i’m going to say at your funeral is ‘i told you so’”

“no.”

“what? come on,” you said with a pout. you had cornered eddie at his locker, and he wasn’t even facing you.

“i’m not selling weed, let alone cocaine to a person who has never touched drugs in their life,” he said with an annoyed tone.

“and how do you know i’ve never tried drugs?” you said, poking his arm. he turned and looked you up and down, then raised an eyebrow once he made it back to your face. “okay, fine. but you know what they say, you gotta start somewhere!” you said enthusiastically.

truth was, you didn’t give a shit about what he was selling. you just wanted to get some alone time with him, even if you had to spend money to do it.

god, this was a new low for you.

“if i do it will you leave me the hell alone?” he said. you nodded excitedly and flashed him a smile that he didn’t return. “fine. meet me in the woods just outside of school at eight. deal?”

you faltered at the thought of being in the woods, alone, with eddie munson, at night. “uh, yeah, deal.” you said, the fake smile making its way back onto your face.

he nodded curtly and slammed his locker shut, leaving you alone in the hallway. you wondered if it was a mistake, if meeting him tonight was a good idea. you shook your head to get the hair out of your face as well as the concern out of your head, and you walked towards the front of school both excited and nervous about what would transpire in about five hours.

you sat on the table, your leg bouncing on the bench with nervousness. you looked around as you waited for the long-haired boy, no, man to show up, and when he finally did you breathed a sigh of relief. he walked up slowly and showed genuine surprise when he saw your frame sitting atop the table.

“well, well, well, the princess actually showed up,” he said, and you could make out the smirk on his face as he walked closer. the moonlight was hitting him just right when he finally stopped in front of you.

“oh i’m a princess? don’t flatter me, munson,” you said with a smirk to match his. he rolled his eyes and sat down next to you, setting down the black box he carried with him everywhere. he opened it to reveal an assortment of bags of weed, pill bottles, and tiny bags filled with a white powder. you gulped at the sight of all the illicit paraphernalia, and he laughed to himself.

“i’m definitely not selling this to you now, princess” he said with drawling out the pet name, and you shook the expression from your face before looking back up at him.

“first of all, stop calling me that,” you said. “second of all, you shut up. it’s not every day that a sweet girl like me sees a bunch of felonies in some kid’s lunch box.”

“a sweet girl like you?” eddie laughed out. “please, nothing about you is sweet.”

you were genuinely taken aback. “and what makes you say that?”

“don’t think i don’t know why you walked into hellfire yesterday,” he said knowingly, and you coughed from embarrassment. “don’t think i don’t feel you staring at me from across every room we share. it’s quite pathetic, really.”

“how would you know i stare at you? quite presumptuous if you ask me,” you said with absolutely no confidence. you were in a position you had never been in before, and you had no idea what was going on as eddie closed the lunchbox and set it down. his body was now fully facing yours, and the smirk on his face was humiliating you more by the second.

“are you denying that you do?” he asked. you were falling into his trap by looking into his dark eyes. you knew they were brown, but you couldn’t make them out due to the darkness. the moon was still hitting his face perfectly, giving the side of his face a sort of glow. your eyes flitted around his illuminated features, and you realized how pretty he actually was.

you slowly shook your head. the smirk on his face grew, yet it now had a certain darkness behind it. now it was his eyes that ran across your face, really taking in your features.

“and is there anything you’re going to do about it?” you said, genuinely nervous.

“would you like me to, princess?” he asked, his face inching closer and closer to yours. your breath hitched. this was it. this was what you had so desperately craved. but now that the moment was here, you were putty in his hands when it was supposed to be the other way around. chrissy, your friends, and the party you were supposed to be attending were now distant thoughts as eddie took control of your head. everything in your body was screaming at you to get back at least some of your dignity, but you had never experienced the submission you were now.

but you fuckin’ liked it.

you nodded your head lightly, and he took the signal. he leaned in, and as soon as your lips connected, it was straight fireworks. clearly he had done this before, much to your surprise, but every thought was taken away from you with each movement of your mouths. his one hand moved its way to your hips, gripping tightly and causing your breath to falter and him to smile into your kisses. they deepened, and soon enough you were out of air. your tongues clashed as you both fought for dominance, but eddie prevailed every time. your teeth were almost touching as your make out session heated up. the hand that wasn’t gripping your waist moved to the back of your head where eddie laced his fingers through your hair. he tugged lightly at first, then it grew harsher. your hands were gripping his arms for dear life as he pulled on your perfectly curled locks, eliciting moans from your mouth.

he bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, and you were breathless when he did so. the smirk plastered on his face paired with his flushed cheeks was enough to start a pooling of arousal from you, and you knew he was going to give you shit for it when he found out.

he kept eye contact as he moved down to your neck, only breaking it to go to work. your arms flew around him and it was your turn to tangle your fingers in his hair. contrasting you, he pulled your hair to the point that your head was thrown back, giving him more access to leave markings all across your neck. it felt so good, the hot and sloppy kisses that he left in his wake. he occasionally bit down on the flesh and sucked hard before smoothing the now-bruised skin over with his tongue.

you were drowning in pleasure, and he lifted his head to look back at you.

“look at you,” he said, looking your face up and down. “so easily turned on.” he ran the hand on your hip down to your thigh, grazing the skin over and over while stopping at the hem of your skirt every time. “i’m liking the skirt, sweetheart. reminds me of you in that little cheerleading uniform i get to see you in at school.” you were dripping at his words, but the only way you could communicate was through whimpers of desperation. he chuckled darkly as he looked down at your legs, and he slowly dragged his fingers lightly to finally push up the edge of the skirt like he had always fantasized about doing.

shit, you thought. this is the big reveal.

his hands finally reached the place where your thighs met your pelvis, and he abruptly stopped. he looked up at you in genuine surprise before his expression changed into one of impressment.

“and what did you think you were doing, coming here with no panties on?” your eyes moved slowly up to his face, only to see his pupils blown as he looked at you.

“i know how to get what i want” you countered, finding your confidence that was thrown out the window since seeing him walk up to the table just minutes earlier.

“we’ll see about that, princess,” he said. “you’re going to have to be very good, do you understand?” you nodded your head, growing impatient as his fingers made their way to where you wanted them most.

he finally gave in, running two of his fingers between your folds. it was enough to make you cum right there, but you were pushed to the edge when those same fingers found your clit. he applied only the lightest bit of pressure, and your hips bucked upwards out of instinct to get more of what you needed.

“ah-ah,” he said, pulling his hand way. “wait your turn, sweetheart.” you groaned out of irritation, but you were instantly satisfied as you felt his fingers return to their spot on your now-throbbing clit.

he slowly pressed harder as he rubbed circles over it, and at this point you were a moaning mess. he had barely even done anything, yet there you were, writhing and needy with your eyes closed and your head thrown back. he was staring at you with lust in his eyes, but he pulled his hand away yet again. your eyes opened quickly and you looked at him, but he just laughed.

“since you’ve been so good and sound so sweet,” he said, but he didn’t finish his sentence as he got off the table and centered himself in between your legs, your skirt still on. he sat on the bench in front of you and looked up at you with those big brown eyes, and you were mentally preparing yourself for what you knew was about to happen. “lay down on the table,” he said in a low and commanding voice. you slowly did so, and you could feel his hot breath on your pussy before he finally lifted the bottom of your skirt and attached his mouth to your clit.

the way he took it in his mouth, sucking harshly and running his tongue over it while licking fat stripes up your pussy in between had you reeling. his hand snaked up your still-clothed body until it found your neck, where his grip tightened and put you in a frenzy. his other arm had your leg hooked around it where he held you down to keep you from moving.

“fuck, eddie,” you moaned out, your hands instantly grabbing at his hair. his grasp on your neck was tight, but not completely suffocating. “m-more.”

“what was that?” he said, looking up at you but never ceasing his relentless eating your pussy.

“m-more, p-please,” you choked out, trying your best to form the words. you felt eddie smile against your core.

“as you wish, princess,” he said before removing his hand from your throat. he traced all the way back down your body before his hand found where your entrance was, slowly pushing a single digit inside.

you should’ve just brought a megaphone with how loud you yelled, his finger pumping slowly in and out. the feeling of his tongue swirling your clit and his finger curling inside of you was almost too much to bear, and when he added a second it was game over.

“p-please,” you moaned out. “g-gonna c-“

everything stopped.

your head flew up to look at him where you were met with a devilish smirk. you had had about enough, and as a surge of irritation and sexual rage washed over you, so did a leap of confidence.

“what’s the look for, doll?” he said. you took the smirk away from him, and you sat up and leaned forward. you lifted his chin with your finger before you kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. you pulled away and were met with a confused look on his face. you swung your leg over his head before hopping off the table, moving to be behind him. he turned his head to look at you, but you stood still.

“all the way around, pretty boy,” you said. now it was his turn to lose the confidence, and he silently obliged. once he was facing you, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and took it off, nice and slow. he watched you, mouth gaped open when you finally dropped the shirt on the ground. not only were you not wearing underwear, but it seemed that you had forgot your bra as well. he drank in your appearance, not even know where to rest his eyes as he admired you. you walked over to him slowly, and he watched as you got on your knees. the leaves were rough, but you barely paid any attention to that as you looked up at eddie with doe eyes. he gulped as you ran your fingers along his thighs and up to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slowly. he hurriedly took it off and threw it somewhere, and you laughed to yourself.

“so eager,” you said, now in complete control. your hands then moved to his zipper and slowly undid it. his breath hitched as you reached the bottom of the zip, and you palmed him through his briefs. he let out a soft ‘ah’ as your hand wrapped around his clothed length, stroking it softly. he stared at you as you picked up the pace, finally using your other hand to pull at his waistband as a signal for him to take off his pants. you pulled away as he frantically took of his pants and briefs, laughing at his fumbling. your laughter was cut short once his cock sprang free. you were impressed to say the least, and eddie caught it.

“like what you see, sweetheart?” he said cockily.

“did i say you could talk?” you said, not wanting to give up the control you had just gotten. he put his hands up in defense and leaned back while still looking at you. you grabbed his cock once again, the feeling of his skin warm under your fingers. you resumed your stroking, and eddie’s breathing became uneven. it wasn’t until you kitten-licked his tip that he let out a small moan. he sounded so good, so needy as the small sounds came from his mouth. you continued teasing him, now running your tongue on the underside of his throbbing length.

“b-baby,” he said, completely out of breath.

“wait your turn, remember?” you said, quoting him from before. he let out a laugh that turned into a guttural moan as you took him in your moth completely.

he had never had it like this before. the way your head bobbed up and down, your mouth holding what you couldn’t fit. the way you let your tongue drag roughly up his cock while sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. the way you looked up at him with those big eyes of yours. and when you finally removed your mouth to reattach it to his balls, he lost it.

he had now turned into the moaning mess as you jacked him off, his balls your new area of focus. his head was facing upwards as he tried not to close his eyes, but everything you were doing had him on a chokehold.

“f-fuck, y/n,” he stuttered. “feel s-so good.”

you detached yourself but still moved your hand up and down his shaft, and you smiled up at him. “such pretty sounds from such a pretty boy. you gonna come for me?” you said, your voice almost doing the job for him. he nodded quickly, his eyes closing as he felt that familiar feeling build up.

again, everything stopped.

he head was still pointing at the sky as he let out a dark laugh. his hands moved from your hair to your hot cheeks, and he slowly looked down at you.

“bad decision, sweetheart.”

you knew you were totally in for it at this point.

he guided you with his hands still cupping your cheeks onto your feet, and you began to take your skirt off before his hands flew to grip your arms.

“leave it on,” he said maintaining eye contact. you nodded with a silent smile before he led you to the end of the table. you had just caught your breath before you were spun around to face the table, his hand on your lower back pushing you down onto your stomach roughly.

you waited a couple seconds before you felt eddie’s cock run up and down your pussy, causing you to groan in anticipation.

“i don’t know if you deserve this, princess. my cock inside of you. you haven’t been a very good girl, edging me like you just did.”

“please, eds,” you breathed out. “i promise i’ll be good just-“ he cut you off by completely railing into you. you cried out in pain that immediately turned into pleasure. he pulled back out all the way.

“what did you say?” he said. “i don’t think you finished.”

“p-please. fuck m-me please,” you moaned out, already missing the feeling of his cock inside of you. you could practically see the smile on his face as he pressed slowly into you this time, stretching you out. your hands, beside your head, scratched at the table, and he grabbed them to hold behind your back. the feeling of his hips hitting your ass mixed with his dick hitting just below your g-spot was pure ecstasy. you could feel a layer of sweat on your back, yet eddie kept his hand there to hold you down. you moaned his name over and over as he made you his, his cock slipping in and out of your wet core with ease.

“so fucking tight,” he said, breathing heavily. “and so wet. for who? say who it’s for, baby.” you could barely think as the speed of him fucking you kept increasing. your legs became wobbly as you heard him speak again. “words, y/n, say who it’s for.”

“y-you,” you managed. “all f-for you.” he groaned as he pulled out. you were suddenly empty, but with the speed in which he flipped you over and hooked your legs on his shoulders was fast enough that you were full of him again in no time.

your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as this new position finally gave him the access to that perfect spot in your pussy, and he was ruining you with every thrust. your eyes were opened and trained on his face. there were beads of sweat formed around his hairline, and his head was down as he watched himself fuck you over and over again. your gaze moved down to see what he was looking at, and you almost came from the sight alone. he moved in and out of you at the fast, perfect pace you loved, and you were turned cock-drunk. your hands were helplessly grasping at nothing, and you screamed his name once his fingers found your clit.

you were moving closer and closer to your orgasm, but you couldn’t even think with him fucking you the way he was. you let out a small whimper, and eddie understood you perfectly.

“i know, baby, but not just yet,” he said, quickening the circles he rubbed into your sensitive clit. you looked up at him, and he almost lost it then. you were completely fucked out, your hair everywhere and your cheeks flushed. “jesus, you look so pretty like this. all ruined because of me,” he said reaching back for your throat. the familiar feeling of his hand tightening around your neck was the last thing you needed to be sent over the edge.

“e-eddie, n-need,” was all you could get out.

“hold on, doll, just a little longer i promise,” he said, his attention going back down to where he was relentlessly fucking your hole. “wanna cum with you.”

“f-fill me u-up,” you said. you had never let anyone do that before, but the way you were completely lost in lust had you hooked on him.

“fuck, baby,” he said, looking back to you. his hand tightened even more, knocking the wind out of you. “want me to cum inside you? want me to fill this pretty pussy of yours?” you nodded frantically. “gonna need to hear it, princess. want you to tell me you want my cum dripping from your hole.”

“yes, fuck! please i n-need it,” you yelled out. it was all you could bear, and the knot in your stomach was a dam about to break. “please, c-can i c- please,” you said. it didn’t make any sense, but eddie knew you like the back of his hand at this point.

“come on, princess. you can do it,” he said softly. you let yourself go, crying out his name as your walls throbbed around his cock, you had never cum this hard, and it resulted in your squirt drenching both yourself and eddie. it was euphoric, and eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore either after that. he chased after you, white hot liquid spurting deep into your pussy. you felt every drop as he fucked you through both of your orgasms.

the high died down, and he finally pulled out to reveal you leaking with his cum. he was breathing heavily as he walked over to grab both your and his own shirts, and he walked back over to you who was still laying on the table and looking up at the stars. he placed your shirt on your stomach, and you took it from him with limp hands. you felt a cloth come in contact with your now-overstimulated clit, and you hissed from the feeling.

“sorry, doll,” he muttered as he cleaned you up first, then himself. you sat up on your elbows as you watched him, then made eye contact with him as he lifted his head. you sat up completely and put your shirt on, but when you pulled it over your head you saw eddie still shirtless. you cocked your head, and he raised an eyebrow. “what, did you think i was going to put this back on?” you laughed, but due to your soreness you tried to cut it short. he smiled down at you before continuing.

“alright, lay it on me,” he said. “was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“i wouldn’t say that,” you joked, and he let out a small laugh.

“well then, princess, i guess i’m just going to have to keep trying until it is.”

“i guess you will,” you said with a smile.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #Smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie x you

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theresthesnitch · 10 months

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If the face fits

Jily meet cute! ....well, this might be a meet ugly, but it's all I can think of. Based on a video I saw a while back, and I'll try to post it if I find it again. NSFW below the cut.

Lily hates the first day at a new gym.

Trying out a new gym is always a bit uncomfortable. There are rules and expectations that are common across every gym, of course, but each one has its own culture that you really can’t know until you walk in the door. What is the flow around the equipment? What is the acceptable time on a machine? Where is the best vantage point to check out the gym hotties?

Lily despises walking in without knowing what to expect, but she and Mary moved to this city a month ago, and running outside is only going to get her by for so long. She needs some actual gym equipment. So, she’s braving gym visits.

This one, Marauders Fitness (“We solemnly swear to get you swole!”) caught her eye. It’s run by four guys, each of whom are sexy in that sweaty-abs-on-display sort of way, if you’re someone who is into that sort of thing. (Lily… Lily was into that sort of thing). They offered a three-day visit pass, and this is Lily’s first day.

She is already feeling the distinct exhaustion in her underused muscle, knowing that she’ll be deliciously sore tomorrow. All she needs is to lift some weights, and she’ll be done.

She pulls out her phone to text Mary, who is stuck at work, as she sits down on the weight bench. Only, she doesn’t actually sit on the bench.

Lily turns to look and jumps up again, just in time to see a guy with messy hair sit up from where he had laid down on the bench. “Oh, oh my god. I’m so–”

She turns and runs. There’s really no other solution now, right? As much as she liked this gym, she can never, ever return. She honestly debates leaving her bag in the locker room, until she realizes her keys are in there, and she doubles back for it.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

She turns to see Mr. Messy Hair coming after her, jogging to catch up. “Nope, sorry. I have, um, an urgent appointment somewhere else. Across town. I have to go.”

“You can’t go yet,” he says, walking beside her as she continues toward the locker room.

“Yes, I can. Can’t be helped, must go.” She tries to walk a little faster, but this guy is tall and his long legs take big strides.

“Well, before you run out, at least give me your name and number.” He looks down at her with a smirk, and she pretends it doesn’t make her stomach swoop. “You wouldn’t just sit on my face and run, would you?”

Lily groans. “You did not just use that line.”

He laughs, and it’s such a full, happy sound. “It’s terrible, I know, but you can’t blame me. It’s like a once in a lifetime kind of a line.”

“Listen, about that, I’m really sorry–”

“NOPE!” He smiles as he cuts her off. “You don’t get to apologize for that. I think we were both a little at fault for that one, so if you apologize, I’m going to have to apologize, then you’ll think you have to apologize, and we’ll be stuck in a playback loop.”

Lily scoffs. “Maybe, but only one of us sat on the other’s face.”

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He crosses his arms over his chest, a playful tug to his lips.

“Say what?”

He leans in, like he’s sharing a secret. “I really didn’t mind it that much.”

Lily feels herself flush. “I really have to go.”

“No, come on. You didn’t even finish your workout!” He gestures back at the gym. “Why don’t you finish? I can help if you want.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Was that another double entendre?”

His eyes go wide. “No. I mean, not intentionally. I just meant–” He sighs. “At least tell me you’ll come back?”

Lily laughs, and there’s a hysterical note to it. “No, absolutely not.”

“What if I throw in free personal trainer services?”

She glares at him. “Do these services involve you laying on my weight bench?”

“No, I promise.” He waves over her shoulder. “I’ll even set it up with Sirius so you don’t have to deal with me.”

She looks over her shoulder at three guys who are still standing by The Weight Bench (an incident like that deserves a Proper Title), grinning like they enjoy watching this train wreck. One of them–Sirius, presumably–waves back.

It’s only then that the realization lands hard in her stomach. She’s seen this guy before. All of them. “Oh my god. You’re the owner?” She walks past him, a bit in a daze. “I just sat on the gym owner’s face.”

“It was a new experience for me, too.” He follows her as she walks back toward the locker room. “I’m James, by the way.”

“Lily,” she says, but she’s hardly paying attention.

“Are you still going to leave, Lily?”

A hysterical bubble of laughter pops out. “I should. I should move all the way back to my parents’ house and climb under my Barbie blanket and just give up.”

“You could,” James says. “Or there’s another option and–I might be a bit biased, but I think it’s a better option.”

“What’s that?” she asks, turning to face him.

“Go on a date with me?” He’s really very cute when he smiles, glasses a little lopsided (that might be her fault) and a crooked grin. He holds his hands up in surrender. “Face sitting optional.”

Lily laughs. She can’t help it; it’s just the most ridiculous thing to ever happen in her life. She holds up a finger. “One condition.”

“Anything,” he says.

“Please stop mentioning face sitting.”

#jily #james potter #lily evans #meet cute #meet ugly #they met and now they're going to fall in love #face sitting optional #snitchwrites

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 5

This is for @goodolefashionedloverboi and @zerokrox-blog who while I was writing this said the same thing Robin does in this in the comments of part 3. “Eddie this isn’t high school anymore, shut up!!” LOL! Thanks for the laughs, guys.

Also originally I had a darker meeting with Joyce (she tells him that if something else happens involving him {the fight with Michelle and the seizure being the first two strikes} he be out of the class) but then I realized Joyce would never. So she didn’t.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Robin’s feet ached as she makes her way to her apartment. Diamond worked the bar to help Opal out, but Steve was missed. Diamond could tend and often did, but it didn’t have the flare Steve did when he slung drinks. Not that Opal was bad either, but again...she was biased and she missed her Steve.

She was so focused on getting home that she nearly ran someone over in her rush.

“Oh shit!” she said, trying to untangle herself from the poor person.

“Buckley?” a voice above her asked.

She looked up to see Eddie holding her up to keep her from falling to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asked as she finally got her feet under her. “If you followed Alice and Steve back here, I’ll call cops. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “For starters I live it that building over there.” He pointed at the building across from her and Steve’s apartment. “I moved in last month.”

Robin eyed him suspiciously. “You aren’t here to harass Steve?”

Eddie frowned. “When did you get so far up King Steve’s ass? I knew you in band, you hated him as much as I did.”

Robin put her hands on her hips. “Look, yes Steve was an ass in high school, but he changed. And you don’t get go throwing the past in his face. It’s been five years, man. Let. It. Go.”

Eddie shrugged. “You have that girl take Steve back to your apartment because Loch Nora is too far away?” At her blank expression. “You know when you insinuated that I followed him here?”

Robin frowned. “Steve and I live together...” she said slowly as if she was talking to an idiot.

“I didn’t think Harrington was your type, Buckley,” he said, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“He’s not and he knows that, too,” she defended.

“We are talking about the guy who slung the slurs ‘queer’ and ‘fag’ around like his stupid baseball bat, right?” Eddie growled.

“It’s been years!” she bit back. “Let. It. Go.”

Eddie just threw his arms in the air. “Whatever, I need to get home.” And he stalked off toward the building he said was his.

Robin watched as he ran up the stairs, biting her lip. She was going to have to tell Steve about their new neighbor.

Fuck.

Robin opened the door to their apartment to see Steve on the couch reading, the only light on in the place is the lamp above him.

“Shit, the seizure cause a migraine?” she whispered as slipped out of her coat and shoes.

He nodded and set the book down. “So it’s a good thing I got you to call me in.”

She nodded and sat down next to him. “I missed you.”

Steve nodded and curled up against her side. “I called Dr Thompson and set up an appointment. I shouldn’t be seizing after just one missed dose.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, threading her fingers through his hair. “It really scared me.”

“I’m glad you were there,” he murmured. “Did Joyce call you?”

She sighed. As much as she would like to lie and tell him yes. He needed to know the truth. “It was Eddie.”

Steve huffed a bitter laugh. “I guess he’s not a complete ass. He just doesn’t like me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled. “He also lives in the building across from us.”

Steve straightened up to look her in the eye. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yup!” she said, popping the P. “Met him outside just now.”

He cuddled back up to her side. “I just have to last six months and then I’m gone.”

“I’ll beat him up if he says anything to you,” she growled. “I swear it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the stress of him being an ass was what caused your seizure.”

Steve sighed heavily. She was probably right was the problem. Dr Thompson was going to ask about stressors and Eddie Munson was going to have to go on the list.

She stroked his hair until he fell asleep against her.

Eddie didn’t have band practice the next night, so he offered to pick Chrissy up from work. Which she gratefully accepted. When he pulled up to the bar, standing next to her was a large, burly man in a white pinstripe suit. He looked like the comic book character the Kingpin come to life. The only thing he was missing was a gigantic cigar to chew on.

When Eddie pulled up to the curb, Chrissy waved at the man before climbing in.

As he pulled out of the parking lot he asked, “Who was that, then?”

Chrissy smiled. “That’s my boss, Diamond. He’s really nice. Sometimes if it’s too dark, he’ll walk me to the bus stop and stay with me until it comes.”

Eddie nodded. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Chrissy nodded. “They’ve all been great. Although apparently I haven’t met the weekend bouncer, Onyx and he’s not so nice.”

He hummed. “Well, he wouldn’t be a very good bouncer if he was nice.”

She laughed. “That’s what Garnet said.”

“Garnet is the guy you’re training to take over for?” Eddie asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music in his head.

Chrissy grinned. “He’s really nice. And despite the silly rule of not knowing who we are outside of work, he still really close with most of the crew.”

Eddie grinned back. “So a real mother hen, huh?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. I think the only reason he hasn’t offered to drive me home after work is that Diamond would frown on it.”

He licked his lips slowly. “I’m glad you got this job, sweetheart. It seems like you’re going to do great.”

They were silent in the van for awhile.

“Oh!” Chrissy said suddenly. “You have to come to open mic night!”

Eddie deflated. “A posh place like The Queen’s Crown isn’t going to want to listen to a bunch of washed up metalheads.”

Chrissy pushed at his shoulder. “Apparently lots of big name bands have gotten their start at The Queen’s Crown. What harm would it do to try? You get up there, play three songs, and leave. And maybe, just maybe Diamond will pick Corroded Coffin for one of his fancy gigs where actual fucking music producers show up.”

Eddie pulled over to the side of the road to look her in the eye. “Come again?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Open mic night is one Saturday a month. And from that list of ten or so bands and solo artists, he picks three to show up and do a full set in front music producers. Not everyone gets a record deal, but they all get a chance.”

Eddie let out a shuddered breath. “Holy fuck, Chrissy.”

She kissed his cheek. “I thought you’d like that. Which is why I signed you guys up for the next one.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment and then threw his arms around her tightly. “You’re the best!” He kissed her cheek. “Why didn’t we work out again?”

Chrissy laughed, pushing him off her. “Because I’m gay?”

Eddie laughed, too. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” He grinned at her and then pulled back into traffic to take her home.

Steve showed up early to the next class as requested. He was so nervous. He was really worried that she was going to kick him out of her class. He was keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He didn’t want to take a summer class, because then he wouldn’t graduate in June and he’d lose his student teaching position.

Joyce waved him in. “Come in, come in.”

Steve shuffled in and closed the door behind him. He walked up to her desk.

“Pull up a chair,” she instructed.

He pulled out one of the stools and straddled it. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Joyce nodded. “How are you doing?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay, I guess. I have an appointment with my neurologist next week to discuss what happened.”

She laced her fingers together and placed her hands on her desk. “How long has this been going on?”

Steve didn’t want to say, but she leveled her mom stare at him and he folded. “Since my second concussion about seven years ago.” And then silently begged her not to do the math.

But she did it anyway. “Ah. From your fist fight with Jonathan.”

Yup. Her oldest son had one hell of a right hook. “I’d rather you didn’t tell him that I have seizures because of that fight. He doesn’t need the guilt.”

She tilted her head and sighed gently. “You say it was your second concussion. When was your first?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. “When I was about one years old, my mom accidentally dropped me and I was rushed to the hospital. My neurologist tells me that when Jonathan hit me he knocked loose something from that first injury that caused the seizures and the migraines.”

“Oh, Steve...” she murmured. “That’s awful. I wish you boys would tell me what you were fighting over.”

Steve licked his lips. Yeah. He was going to take that little secret to his grave, thanks. The last thing he was going to tell Joyce, especially now that she was his teacher was that Steve had hit him when he caught Jonathan taking pictures of girls undressing. And Jonathan had hit back harder.

Him and Jonathan made up later. Steve got him to agree to never do that again, and he wouldn’t tell his mother that her sweet boy was a pervert.

Joyce shook her head. “Are you able to continue the class?” she asked after several long moments of awkward silence.

Steve nodded. “It was a fluke thing. I’ve had a lot of changes in my life recently and it activated my epilepsy. My doctor will probably adjust my dosage for awhile and then I’ll be back to normal.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or as normal as I get.”

Joyce nodded. “If you need anything let me know. I want to see you do well in this class.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do too.”

She looked up at the clock. “All right, it’s about time for class to start, so go ahead and sit down. I’ll open the door.”

Steve got up and went to his seat. He watched as the other students filed in. That had gone better than he hoped it would. Robin would tell him that it was just his anxiety talking when he got like this. Didn’t stop his brain from filling in the worst doom’s day scenarios, though.

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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dabisqueen · 6 months

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every time i have an idea to submit i dont have my phone or laptop and then when i finally make my way to your inbox my brain goes blank. SOB but…

dabi's always obsessed over things. his need to meet standards, for approval. his need to prove himself. his need for revenge. its compulsory for the smallest of wants to spiral into an obsession and finding you turns out to be no different.

it starts with his usual compulsory need to tick people off. but the precious scowl on your face when he presses the right button tickles something inside of him. its an obsession then, to test his limits and find everything that makes you tick. he doesn't know why you specifically set it off in him but he obsesses trying to find out.

he obsessively follows your schedule. even before you start dating he has a copy of your calendar in his phone. when you have classes, work. when it switches last second, he knows. every appointment, every date.

he watches those dates, scowling at the partner of the night. the only date you'll have with them before they disappear. you swear its just bad luck.

it isn't long before there isn't a thought that doesn't have you creeping into it. and when he gets his hands on you his obsession only gets worse.

he seems to know everything about you before you tell him, some sort of familiarity with your stories about your day before you tell them, even about the stories from years ago that you weave into conversations. you chalk it up to your imagination because there was no way he could know.

dabi hates that you don't move in immediately, that he has to sneak out at night to ensure you're still tucked in your own bed and not out. there's a certain way your things keep going missing from your own home only for you to end up finding them at dabi's. you swear maybe you're losing your mind because you don't remember bringing them and forgetting them there but dabi has such solid memories of it that you're easily convinced. soon enough all your essentials are at dabi's most of the time anyways so you give in to finally breaking your lease.

dabi monopolizes your time, you see your friends less, work from home more, glued to dabi's side. he's addicted to always having you there. obsessed with making you center your world around him. until you don't wanna go a day without him. until you have a calendar shared with him in your phones, so you know where he is at all times just like he knows where you are.

dabi's obsession over you fuels your obsession over him.

Kaze! Thank you so much for this gem 💎 💙

I can't add anything to it. It's perfect obsession...

And thats one 🎟 😘

💙💙💙💙

(Win a free commission by entering my Obsession Milestone Event!)

#queen answers #dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dqobsessionevent #milestone event

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raethethey · 1 year

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Tucked Away Tattoos

Member: Lee Minho x gn!reader

Word Count: 3087

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, tattoo adventure!

Warnings: swearing, general anxiety, small existence crisis attack lol

A/N: I love this. I think I'll always love this. This was so fun to write even though it is now 7am (haha my sleep schedule hates me). Thank you loml for requesting this @labyrinthgate <3 I hope ya'll enjoy!

Part of @the-writing-nook's monthly prompt for January: write something set in a small town. Go check out the other ones here! (link to be added when the masterlist comes out at the end of the month)

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Summer break was right around the corner. You had so many plans to adventure and get out there. First on your list was to get a tattoo. You had been thinking about getting one for years, something special to you and meaningful enough that if your parents ever found out (you, an adult with your own money) got one they wouldn’t absolutely hate it. (They’d still frown at you because they thought you ruined your career life forever, but it’s not like they could do anything about it either.) So you called up your best friend, Minho, called the tattoo shop you’d researched for weeks, and made an appointment for the first weekend after finals.

Time flew by fast. Maybe too fast. Your appointment was approaching and your nerves were on the fritz. Were you really doing this? Really getting something completely and totally permanent (besides the laser removal options)?

Yes. There was no turning back now.

Minho pulls up to your dorm building in his beat-up family car, the one you snuck out of the house in so many times in high school, the one that took you to all your club activities in middle school, the one you threw up in during elementary school. He rolls down the window and as always lays down on the horn, loud enough and long enough everyone in a five-mile radius turns their head to see what’s going on.

Jogging to the car as quick as you can, you hop in and slam the door shut, punching his arm, “Shut up, you menace! You’re going to get the police called.”

He just laughs, putting the car in drive and turning on the radio to a quiet volume; it’s a level just for background noise. “So, where is this little tattoo shop you’ve decided to throw your money at?”

“Just outside of town, kinda near that cat café we went to last month,” you say, pulling up directions. It’s only a twenty-minute drive from the university near the small lighthouse at the bay.

“Oh, I’ve been there! It has plants everywhere and this cute little shop cat that none of the artists know where it came from, they just accept that it lives there now.” He turns out of the parking lot making his way to the main road, the GPS silently telling him which directions to turn.

Quirking your eyebrow, you turn toward him as much as you can while being buckled, “You’ve been to a tattoo shop? Without me? Traitor.”

He rolls his eyes, “Jisung wanted another piercing, six wasn’t enough apparently.”

“Hey, one can never have too many piercings. Wait! Was it that forward helix one he got? I love that one.”

He nods, leaning back in his seat to get comfortable for the drive. “I may have also gotten a piercing.”

Unbelievable. Lee Minho? A piercing? He has his lobes pierced, you know that much, but another one? “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be joking.” He glances at you. “Oh my god, you did not. You did? Where?!”

His lip twitches. You slap him on the arm resting in between you on the center console.

“You did not, you asshole. You’re always doing this to me.”

“Okay, okay, I didn’t, but I did get a tattoo.” A small grin graces his face.

Not believing him this time, you turn back to the front of the car and turn the volume up, rolling your eyes at his antics.

He turns it down again and looks at you, glancing at the road every few seconds, “I actually did though. I’m not kidding about this one. It’s small, almost invisible, I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it.” He holds his arm out in front of your face, close enough to have you crossing your eyes at the proximity. He uses his thumb to point at the side of his middle finger. There, the tiniest marks you’ve ever seen is a tattoo, a real tattoo, of a minimalist cat face. Two tiny triangles for ears, a smaller filled-in triangle for a nose, and six lines for whiskers.

It’s cute. It’s very…him.

You’re stunned, to say the least. It takes you a while to come up with something to say, something normal and not a babble of ‘oh my god you’re adorable can I kiss you?’ Because that would not be good.

Instead, he speaks up again in your silence, “I swear I was only there for emotional support for Sung, but the dude asked if I wanted anything since I went all the way out there and you know Jisung is a terrible influence, so I got this. It was small enough they didn’t even make me pay for it.” He huffs a laugh, putting his arm back down.

Your eyes follow his hand, still trained on his finger even though you can’t see it from this angle anymore. Finally, something in your brain starts to work again and you grab his hand, tugging it to your face again, this time to see it right side up instead of upside down as he had shown you. It leaves his wrist at an awkward angle.

“Ow! Not so rough, I am driving, you know?”

You risk a touch. You lick your finger and rub it across the ink to see if it would smudge.

He pulls his hand away and rubs it on his pants. “It’s real, y/n, ew. Why would you do that?”

“Oh. My. God. IT IS! You got a tattoo! Without me! Not only are you a traitor, but you’re also a backstabber! We promised! You promised we’d be there together if we ever got a tattoo for the first time.”

“No, we didn’t! I do not recall a promise like that ever being made. What are you talking about?”

“Fifth grade. We were on the bleachers listening to this dude talk about motorcycle safety and he had the sickest arm sleeve. You don’t remember?”

His mouth falls open and his head hits his seat, “Ohhh, yeahh. Sorry.” He grimaces at his forgetfulness.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

As the shop comes into view, Minho starts looking for a parking spot. Miraculously, there's an open one right in front of parlour. And it’s free. No wonder considering how small this town is. He parks and you both hop out, heading into the shop. The little bell rings signalling your arrival and a woman walks out from the back. Presumedly, she’s an artist what with her arms decked out in ink and a few piercings littering her ears and face.

“Hi, how can I help you two lovely, blank people today?” A friendly smile stretches across her face revealing another piercing just inside her lipline, in front of her teeth.

You smile back, “Hey, I’m here for an appointment? Y/n at 4:30?”

She checks her computer and nods, “Yep. Can I see your ID?” You hand it over, having it ready. “Great, I’ll just have you sign these papers and we can get right to it.” She hands you a clipboard from behind the desk.

After filling it out and handing it back, she takes it to the back to get it into the system, telling you your artist will be right with you.

A few minutes pass as you wait in the lobby, flicking through the binders laid out on a small coffee table of all the artists' past works and styles. Minho is scrolling on his phone and tapping his foot.

The silence, save for the rock music playing through the speakers around the room and Minho’s tapping, is making you nervous. You start wringing your hands together, biting your lip and glancing out the window, at the decorations, and then at the cat that saunters into the room from who knows where. You nudge Minho and point to the white feline. He glances up at you and follows your line of gaze, a small grin appearing on his otherwise stoic face. Ever the cat dad with three of his own, he starts making noises at it. Small clicks of his tongue and soft tuttings. The cat gingerly makes its way over to him and rubs its face against his pant leg, meowing quietly.

You whisper, “How is it that every cat loves you?”

“It’s universal,” he whispers back, “They all communicate telepathically telling each other which ones are the good ones. Turns out I’m a great one.” He smirks at you as he pets its head, scratching the top of it and eventually its chin.

Rolling your eyes, you reach out a hand to let it sniff you. It bumps its head against your fingers, purring. When it jumps into your lap all of a sudden, you coo overcome by its adorableness. “Who’s the great one now?” You smirk back at Minho.

A man walks out of the back this time and calls your name. Standing up, the cat leaps from your lap and scurries back to where it came from.

Minho follows you and the man to the back of the room where a station is set up and a chair, reclined to a flat position is waiting for you.

The man, also covered in an array of swirling lines, more colourful than the lady’s, asks if you’re ready as you sit down. Nodding you pull out your phone and start to look for your reference pictures. Once you find them you show them to the artist and a few minutes pass as you talk about placement and the different pain levels for each area. Deciding your forearm would be the best place for your first tattoo, he starts drawing up a stencil of your idea, asking for your opinion every few seconds.

The closer he gets to finishing it, the more anxious you get, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs as you tap your toes together. They’ve gotten quite sweaty in the past half hour.

Minho has been characteristically quiet since you walked in, but now he speaks up, “Hey. It’s gonna be fine. Just half an hour, maybe less and you’ll be walking out of here a new person. A new, badass person with ink to show off to all your friends and to make your mother faint and father threaten to never speak to you again,” he gives you a reassuring smile. The one that only brings up half of his mouth and makes his eyes twinkle. “This guy’s done thousands of these, there’s no reason to worry about how it’ll look, plus,” He takes your hand in his, the one with the little cat face on it, and squeezes lightly, “I’ll be right here the whole time. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you like. Now breathe.”

You take a deep, shaky breath and exhale slowly, returning his calm smile as a silent thank you. Unconsciously, you start gently rubbing his little tattoo, the placement already ingrained in your brain.

“Alrighty. Here’s the final product. You like it?” The artist shows you the stencil and you nod, giving him a thumbs-up with the hand that isn’t holding Minho’s.

He starts placing it on your forearm and the process begins shortly after. It’s not as bad as you thought it was going to be, but damn you if you won’t take this chance to hold Minho’s hand.

He isn’t really a touchy guy and prefers witty comments to lift you up instead of hugs or pats on your head. Any chance you get to be closer to him without giving away your true thoughts is a chance you’ll take.

Growing up, you and Minho had always been close. Not just proximately by way of living arrangements as kids, but practically joined at the hip all throughout childhood. You did everything you could together. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder, would change their mind if they got to spend almost every waking hour with Minho like you did. Shit, you were head over heels for your best friend. He was funny in the weirdest, bestest way, charming, caring in his own odd ways, and smart. So fucking smart. Nobody knew the most random facts about anything like he did. And if you thought he was the most handsome man on earth, no one needed to know but you. Fuck, you were in love with him.

Maybe getting this tattoo would change things. If you were brave enough to do this maybe you could be brave enough to tell him. Or maybe all your courage would desert you as soon as it’s over.

You squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes right back, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you. “You’re doing great, just keep breathing. I’m not carrying you home if you pass out.”

You chuckle and it just slips out, completely on accident, “God, I love you so fucking much.” You take a deep breath and close your eyes. For barely a millisecond. They fly back open immediately as soon as you process what you actually just said. You’re too scared to look at him. The ceiling is a much better view, you think. Why did you say that? He’s gonna reject you. He’s gonna stop being your friend now. It’s going to be awkward every time he sees you if he doesn’t completely avoid you. You’re going to have to tell your parents why he’s stopped coming around. You won't ever get to see his cats again! Why, why why did you open your mouth? You’re frozen in fear. You might have stopped breathing. Maybe you’re dead? Please, you want to fade out of existence right now.

“Breathe, y/n. You’re turning purple.”

You let out the breath you were holding. Hopefully, your last breath before you follow the light to sweet, sweet endless nothing where you never have to face him again. Why couldn’t you just respond normally? One simple word change and you wouldn’t be having a crisis right now.

The artist speaks up, “Almost done here. Like he said, you’re doing great. Just a bit more and we’ll patch it up and you can go home.”

A weak smile tugs at your lips, though it’s more of a grimace thanks to your inner turmoil.

“See, almost done. And like you said, I love you so fucking much too.” The world stops spinning. You chance a glance at Minho though you can’t be too sure you’re meeting his eyes; the world may have stopped spinning but the room is going 80 miles per hour. However, as soon as your gaze lands on him, everything slows and it feels like the world fades around you. You can barely hear the tattoo gun anymore.

There’s no mischievous glint in his eyes, just pure honesty. And love. Maybe you did die and this is just a poor excuse for heaven; hearing what you want to hear in the afterlife. Some joke life is.

You don’t know how long this purgatory lasted but all of a sudden someone is helping you sit up. You feel a tightness around your arm and look to find saran wrap around it, the tattoo covered in gauze to protect it.

“All done! You were a great patient. Here’s an aftercare worksheet to make sure it doesn’t get infected and some extra gauze to switch out occasionally, I assume you have saran wrap at home. If it starts itching or you get a rash, call a doctor, yadda yadda; that paper will tell you everything you need to know. Enjoy being part of the community and we hope to see you back again soon!” The man starts cleaning up his station as Minho gently helps you stand up and gather your things to pay and leave.

Unfortunately, your knees don’t really work right now and you start to buckle. Shock catching up to you; more from what you think you heard than the tingling sensation in your arm. You never hit the floor though, Minho guides your slight fall back to the chair and sits you down again.

You hear muffled conversation from him and the artist as you try to gather your bearings, Minho’s hand firm your grasp.

A cup of water enters your vision and you flimsily take it, gulping down its contents. Then Minho’s face, his beautiful, perfect, angelic face enters your vision, smiling like a cherub sent from heaven. Goddamn him. Why does he have to be so pretty?

“It’s just genetics, angel. Don’t worry, you’re not too bad looking yourself.”

Did you say that out loud?

“Yes. You also said that out loud. Come on, love. This man doesn’t have all day and we gotta get back home.”

“I-” Your voice cracks. “Sit. Can’t move. You-”

He chuckles looking at the man still cleaning up his station. “Sorry about this. They’re usually more coherent with their words. They might be in shock right now.” He gathers you up in his arms again, careful of your arm, and with your clumsy steps barely helping, he moves you to the waiting room again to sit for a bit longer, until you have your wits about you again.

His figure disappears for a while as your senses start to return. You don’t know how long it is again before he comes back, but he’s got his own bandage around his middle finger.

Worry speeds up your reviving process. “Are you okay? What happened? Why do you have a bandage around your finger?”

“Relax, love. It’s just a new addition. You needed a bit more time to come back from lalaland and the nice man offered when he finally recognised me from when I came with Sung.” He squats in front of you, loosely taking your hands in his. “Can you walk now? Without falling on your face?” You nod, blinking. “Good,” he stands up, pecking your forehead on the way up, “Let’s go home now and talk about this wonderful revelation you’ve just made while high on brave juice.”

“Oh god, I did say that out loud for sure, didn’t I? Fuck.”

“Don’t forget what I said. That’s kind of important too, angel.”

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Bonus:

“I can’t believe they let you get another tattoo for free.”

“I can’t help it if people just like me more, besides it’s cute.”

“It’s an ‘x’ and a squiggle on the other side of your finger.”

“It’s a cat butt and it matches the face I got.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

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writercole · 1 year

Text

Blind Date

Summary: Blind dates aren't always the worst Words: 992 A/N: Just a little fun drabble for my homestate baby boy.

Blind dates are the worst. The anxiety about meeting a new person, the awkward small talk, never knowing if you were going to end up on the news or not. Her friend, Shelly, begged and pleaded with her to go out with her boyfriend’s roommate.

“Ducky, please! I will owe you so big,” Shelly pleaded, using the nickname given to her friend in kindergarten. “Jake said he’s been moping around for weeks!”

“I don’t do blind dates for a reason,” she refused.

“But it’s not like it’s a stranger! I know him and his last girlfriend dumped him and since I’ve been with Jake, he’s been in this…jealous funk.”

“Shells,” she sighed, “I doubt we’re even compatible. And you know how I feel about Jake.”

“Yes, I know you think Jake is the cockiest asshole on the planet,” Shelly sassed, “but Javy is really nice! And it’s only one date!”

“He’s roommates with Jake, Shelly, he can’t be that great,” she scoffed. She wasn’t sure how anyone could tolerate that cocky facade for longer than just a few minutes, much less live with the guy. It’s not like his ego left any room for anyone else to breathe, anyway.

“Please, Ducky. One date. For me. I’ll pay for your next hair and nail appointments.” She could practically see Shelly’s pout and puppy eyes through the phone.

“Shelly, I can pay for my own hair and nails.”

“How about VIP tickets for Kenny Wayne Shepherd at the House of Blues?”

“And how would you get these tickets?” she questioned her friend.

“I have ways. Please, Ducky. For me”

“I swear, you owe me so much,” she groaned, making her friend whoop.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” Shelly chanted. “He’s going to plan everything and I’ll give him your address and he’ll be there Friday at 7. And stop stressing out. I can feel the tension through the phone.”

“I hate you right now,” she grumbled, eliciting a riotous laugh before she could end the call.

Friday evening rolled around and, despite the indecisiveness about her outfit and the amount of time she spent on her uncooperative hair and makeup, she was ready before seven. She poured a glass of wine to calm her nerves and try to stop herself from overthinking. The timing couldn't have worked out better; as soon as she set her empty glass in the sink, the doorbell echoed through her house.

She took a deep breath and checked her makeup one last time before opening the door and finding a breathtaking man with short, black hair and gorgeous tan skin. His white tee was covered by a light brown sweater, neither doing much to hide the thick muscles underneath.

She caught herself eyeing him up and down with her jaw dropped. She composed herself with a slight shake of her head, her gaze returning to his dark brown eyes, smirking when she realized he was doing the same thing.

He cleared his throat and said her name, hoping that he was in the right place.

"You're Javy, then?" she questioned.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, bowing slightly, a lopsided grin on his face. "Shall we?"

She nodded with a bright smile, reaching behind her for her clutch and keys. Javy offered her his arm once she was satisfied with the door lock and escorted her down to his car, opening her door and making sure she was settled before walking around to the driver's door.

"So, Javy," she said as he started the car, "what do you have planned?"

"Shelly said you weren't one of those girls who liked big, extravagant first dates so I thought dinner at Fiona’s, a walk along the river, then drinks at Molly's and maybe, if you haven't decided you hate me by then, we can find a spot at one of the other bars that have live performances."

She was shocked at how well thought out his plan was, and how perfect it sounded. Maybe Shelly had a good eye after all. "That all sounds wonderful."

The awkwardness that she was worried about was completely gone by the time they made it to the restaurant. Javy's hand stayed settled on the small of her back as they walked, only shifting when he opened a door or pulled out her chair.

The restaurant was quiet, sparsely populated despite the time of night. Their server was also discreet, allowing them time to get to know each other.

They found out that they had both grown up in the New Orleans area, just a couple of blocks from each other. Those blocks sent them to different schools and different groups of friends, but it left them wondering if they had ever bumped into one another before.

As they walked along the river, they drifted closer and closer, their arms brushing with each step. Javy kept the conversation flowing, telling stories of crazy instructors and death defying flights.

They meandered through the streets to Molly's pub, walking in with their hands entwined and smiles on their faces. The bartender nodded at them with a smile and reached for a bottle of liquor. “Have a seat, loves, I’ll bring your drinks over.”

Javy looked at his date with a confused smirk. “You come here often?”

“Often enough to have a regular,” she chuckled as a malibu and pineapple was placed in front of her.

“Why haven’t we met before?”

“Not the right time, I guess. But we’re here now. What do you propose, exactly?”

Javy grinned and leaned in, capturing her lips with his own. His hand cupped her cheek and he felt her smile against his lips. He pulled back with a sigh, his eyes fluttering open to find her with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. “Any changes to the proposal?”

She hummed and bit her lip as she thought, turning back to Javy with a smirk. “How about we revisit that tomorrow night? Same time?”

“Oh, honey, you are on.”

#writercole #javy machado #blind date #javy coyote machado #coyote machado #greg tarzan davis

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