#just share your fluffy smutty angsty thoughs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

msgexymunson · 2 years

Text

Overwhelmed

Fem!sensitive!reader v soft!dom!eddie

Overview: hyper sensitivity can be awful. But you begun to find out it's a blessing in disguise with Eddie Munson touching you.

AN: This was a drabble which turned into a long one, whoops! No use of Y/N, pure indulgence on my part due to my neuro divergent ass.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, smutty mc smutt smutt, NSFW (minors I will chase you with a broom) bit angsty, bit fluffy, female oral receiving, lap riding, also I'm english so bear with me and the American-isms!

7k words

Part 2 here Masterlist

Ever since you were a kid you were sensitive. Loud noises got to you. Not necessarily single noises. It was usually the painful overlay of sounds, mixing and mingling, overwhelming you until you couldn't think. Emotions could be problematic. It seemed that everything affected you more than others. Dizzying highs and earth shattering lows. If someone gave you negative feedback it wore down on you for far longer than it should. The pain was palpable, you could almost taste it.

Touch sensitivity affected you the most. It got to you on a daily basis. No one normal really picks up on how much other people touch you. It's constant; an arm brushing against yours in passing, fingers skimming against your own handing over coins or a pen, a hand at the small of your back when inching past you. Every touch from someone you didn't know or didn't like made your skin crawl. Even wearing a slightly itchy jumper could be hell.

It was even worse with someone you liked. An accidental swipe of a hand, a knee resting against yours, it could send lightning bolts up your spine. It was something you've always had to deal with, and managed to control quite well, until you became friends with Eddie Munson.

You befriended the little band of outcasts mostly out of convenience. Safety in numbers. One day a seat was free on their table in the cafeteria and you asked if you could sit there. The teenage boys gawked at you in silence, all except Eddie. He had stood up and flashed a debonair smile at you, bowing and offering you the seat. You took it gratefully, mumbled a thank you, and proceeded to eat your lunch with your head in your book.

Each day it seemed the same seat was free, next to Eddie. Each day you sat, and each day you opened up more and more to the lovable weirdos surrounding you. Little by little you had been indoctrinated into their gang and it pleased you more than you were prepared to admit. It escalated from just lunch, to being a key member of their D&D party, Hellfire, since they were in sore need of a cleric. You were slowly shedding your rough exterior, the walls you placed around yourself for protection. Not completely though, not yet. You never shared how you felt, how things got to you sometimes. How sensitive you were.

That only got more difficult when you realised just how much you liked Eddie. Suddenly that flash of a smile would make you weak at the knees. You'd see him running his hand through his hair, palm coming to rest on the back of his neck, and you could barely breathe. It's like your attraction to him sucked the air out of your lungs. That shoulder length messy hair, the slim but powerful build, that damn smile. It was all too much. The biggest problem of all though? Eddie was a toucher.

You were sure he didn't even realise, but it was continuous. It was like a compunction. It was innocent enough, but it affected you so much. Every time he grabbed you by the arm it made you shiver. If he slung his arm around your shoulder you were practically quivering. Worst of all was the hugs. He would pull you in for a crushing bear hug and it was like your legs turned to jelly.

Last night at the weekly Hellfire meeting it happened again. You were all celebrating your victory after a particularly drawn out battle. You usually held back a bit being the party's only healer but this time you'd had to step up and had managed to land the final blow. The boys had shouted and jumped up, celebrating the victory with vigor. Eddie had beamed at you and reached out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Atta girl" he grinned at you. And what did you do? You fucking whimpered. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you froze, staring at his deep brown eyes. Eddie stared back, brow furrowed but smiling, like he was trying to figure something out. As soon as the moment happened, it was gone. He moved his hand and you had stared down into your lap, trying to will the blood from your face. It appeared no one else had noticed, too busy making noise to see what had occurred. Eddie had tried to touch your arm again at the end of the session but you had grabbed your bag and high tailed it out of there, much to the confusion of the rest of the party.

Today you were heading into the cafeteria, nearly dreading it. Why had he stroked your face? What the hell was that about? Was that just Eddie being Eddie? He was always so touchy feely. You tried to shrug it off, took a deep breath and headed to your usual seat.

Eddie beamed at your approach. You flashed a tight lipped smile back and perched on the bench, eyes darting around the rest of the group. Dustin was mid sentence, clearly berating Mike about some video game.

"Seriously, you take the enchanted sword and then move through the forest, defeat the goblins and you're practically at the tower. It's not hard, a five year old could do it!" He gestures emphatically. Mike shakes his head.

You pipe up "Dustin, seriously. Tone."

"What, what did I say?" He shrugs at you.

"Not what you said it's the way you said it." Mike adds.

"I know what tone means moron!"

You ignore the rest of the argument and look over to Eddie. He's not paying the slightest bit of attention to the pair. His eyes are trained solely on you. He doesnt shy away when you catch him staring, if anything it seems to spur him on. Theres a glint in his eye that you aren't used to seeing. You cough and look away.

At the end of the lunch period you move to get up and go to class, but Eddie's hand on your wrist stops you. The feel of his rough calloused fingers on your pulse point sends waves throughout your body. You drag your eyes to meet his.

"Everything OK? You seem a bit, off." His words seem genuine, but theres that grin again. You feel like he knows, he must do, and every move is to torture you.

"Um... I'm okay Eddie, it's just all a bit, much." You struggle out, trying to ignore the way his fingers lingered on your wrist.

He finally gets go, frowning.

"I just wanted to check, thought you were mad at me yesterday or something."

"No no no, opposite of mad! I just get, er overwhelmed is all." You babble at him.

"Oh okay, still not sure I get it but glad you're not mad at me." He stops and looks down, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "You wanna join me and Jeff and Gareth on Friday? We're gonna pile round Jeffs, watch a movie?" He looks up at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, those big brown eyes impossible to say no to.

"...sure Eddie." At that he beams at you and strokes your arm. Your breath hitches, you don't know if he notices.

"Cool, we're meeting at 8. See you sweetheart." And he leaves. You stand there dazed for a second. Sweetheart. That was new. Maybe Eddie does like you. Smiling, you head to your next lesson.

***********************

When Friday rolls around you're a trembling ball of nerves. What if you had misread? What if he was just being nice?

You dress casually; a pair of black jeans, a black tank top and sneakers. Not anything special, but the top was lower cut than the usual plain coloured t shirts you wore at school. You threw on a red flannel shirt leaving it unbuttoned, just in case it was chilly at Jeff's house, and walked your way over there since it was only a couple of blocks away. You had come prepared with snacks. What teenage boy doesn't love food? You had an enormous bag of popcorn and a Tupperware full of homemade cookies. The cookies were probably a bit much but you had made them simply for something to do with all your nervous energy and it seemed a shame to waste them.

Walking up Jeff's driveway you check the time. 20:08. Not too late, you didn't want to be rude, but you didn't want to be the first there. Ringing the bell, you heard footsteps running to the door. Jeff answers, swinging the door wide, and waves at you to come in.

"Stairs just to the left, everyone's in the basement." He shouts over his shoulder, turning to the kitchen to get drinks. You make your way downstairs. It's slightly dark, but cozy. Theres a very old green loveseat with a coffee table in front of it, strewn with snacks, beer bottles and an ashtray. In front of that is a fairly new TV and VCR. Gareth is taking over half of the couch. To one side of the room there's a huge purple beanbag. Eddie is lounging in it.

"Hey sweetheart." He grins and waves a hand at you. Gareth greets you and you move to put your snacks on the table.

"Hey, cookies, you can come again!" You hear Jeff behind you. You giggle at that. He passes you a beer.

"No worries I had some time to kill you know." Before you can sit on the sofa Jeff collapses onto it ungracefully, handing beers to Gareth and Eddie.

Faltering for a second, you look around the room for another chair.

"Plenty of room on this if you dont mind sharing? I don't bite!" Eddie looks at you, grinning. Shit.

"Not worried about your mouth, I'm worried about your hands." You quip at him. Jeff and Gareth laugh, and Jeff starts putting the movie in the VCR, some slasher flick you hadn't seen.

"Hey, young lady, I'm a perfect gentlemen." Eddie puts his hands in the air as if surrendering, and winks at you.

No use arguing the point. As you are making your way over, he shuffles up. You sit down carefully, but it doesnt seem to matter how you sit, you roll right into Eddie. You were pushed right up against him, your side flush with his. He lowers his arms and drapes one over your shoulder. You sit, legs squeezed together, picking at the label on your beer bottle, trying hard not to think about Eddie's warmth seeping into you. Why was he so warm?

The cookies were a hit, as was the popcorn. About halfway through the movie Jeff gets up to get everyone another beer. You take that as an opportunity to take your shirt off. Eddie was like a furnace and you needed some sort of relief. Sitting back down you nearly sit on top of him, the back of your shoulder flush to his chest.

"Sorry Eddie I'll move-"

"No problem princess this is comfier." And he rests his chin on the bare skin on your shoulder. The arm that was around you now falls to your waist. The feeling was intense. You could feel his heart beating, or at least you thought you could. Maybe it was just your own. The heat emanating from him and the touch of his skin on yours was dizzying. You try and keep your breathing steady.

Jeff returns and hands out the beers and you take yours gratefully, it's something to distract you from the feeling building up between your thighs.

Eddie sips his beer and settles his chin back on your shoulder, watching the movie. You're paying no attention, it was difficult to think when you were surrounded by Eddie.

"Sorry sweetheart can I just-" Eddie says, startling you out of your revelry. He reaches up and strokes your neck, moving some stray hairs of yours that were sticking to your neck and were presumably in his face. The touch is so delicate but it thrums through you. It feels like he's played a chord on your neck and your body has amplified the feeling, sending a shiver all over your skin.

His hand drops back down to your waist and his fingers find a sliver of bare skin between your jeans and your top. Just the feel of his rough fingertips on your exposed skin, after he had given you goosebumps so easily pushed you over the edge. Before you could stop it, a breathy moan escaped your throat. It wasn't particularly loud, but it didnt need to be. It didn't look like Jeff or Gareth heard, but there was no way Eddie didn't. He turned his head towards you so you could feel his breath on your neck which was definitely not helping.

You didn't need to look at him to know he heard. You could practically hear the smirk on his face when he whispered "sorry sweetheart, am I overwhelming you?" Fuckfuckfuck. You could hear your own heart beating profusely. Squeezing your thighs together, you manage to respond.

"No-no, I'm okay," an octave higher than you meant to.

"If it's an issue sweetheart I can sit on the floor-"

"No!" Too loud. Far too loud. Where did that come from? Jeff and Gareth glance over at the sudden noise.

Eddie's grin widens. "Just making sure you're comfy." Jeff and Gareth turn their attention back to the movie, having a discussion about where they recognise the leading actress from.

You sit still, trying not to breathe too loud, alternating between sipping your beer and picking off the label. Eddie moves his head from your shoulder much to your relief, but his hand stays at your waist, gently caressing the exposed skin.

After the movie you hang around for a bit chatting, then make your excuses to get up and leave.

"Hey, wait sweetheart, need a ride?" Eddie stands up.

"I live like two blocks away, it's fine." You turn to the door and start walking upstairs with Eddie at your heels.

"Then I can walk you back. No big deal."

"I'm fine, seriously. I'm a big girl. Tie my own shoes and everything." You smile at him.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He blurts out suddenly.

You blink at him, surprised. "Er, maybe?"

"Look, I'll pick you up, 7 o clock, we can come to mine, chill out, maybe watch a movie?"

"Sure Eddie that sounds nice."

He moves towards you, arms outstretched for a hug. Complying, you soften at his touch. It's gentle, much gentler than the bone crunching hugs you are used to from him. One hand strokes your back softly. Before you pull away, Eddie's breath is in your ear.

"Maybe if you're up for it, I can try and get you to make that noise again." He whispers smugly.

You pull away, mouth gaping whilst he stares at you, smirk on his lip, head tilted at you.

"I... erm, maybe" you stutter out and head out of the house before you make more of a fool of yourself.

***********************

Saturday evening finally crawled around. You were excited but were trying to push down the feeling. You didn't want to come across too eager, it was a problem that happened all too often with you.

A bundle of clothes in various states were spread out before you; you were trying to pick something to wear. You decided on a pleated skirt, not too short, and a crop top. Checking yourself out in the mirror you thought you looked hot, but then again, maybe it was too needy? You shrugged your flannel shirt on to try and calm it down a bit, doing up a couple of buttons. Slinging on your sneakers you looked at the time. 18:46.

Downstairs you lay on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, waiting for a knock at the door. The house was quiet, your parents had gone out a while ago for a weekend away. Trying to calm yourself, you make a mental list of all the objects in the living room. Its helps to centre you, until theres a loud knock at the door.

Opening it you see Eddie's huge grin. He's wearing his usual attire; Hellfire t shirt, jeans and leather jacket.

"Jesus Christ you look hot" Eddie says before he can stop himself.

"Thank you" you blush.

"Parents around?"

"No they're away all weekend." You say, grabbing a jacket and locking the door behind you.

"Thank fuck let's go." You giggle as he grabs your hand and you let him lead you to his van.

Eddie starts to drive as Dio blares through the speaker, and you surprise Eddie by nodding along.

"Oh, you like this stuff sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I mean nothing too heavy, but this is great." You grin.

Eddie returns the smile out the side of his mouth. Soon enough he's turning into the entrance to the trailer park he calls home.

Getting out of the van he runs around to the passenger side and opens the door for you with a low bow. You blush and take his hand as he leads you to the door.

"Now, don't get your hopes up, I know it's pretty impressive from the outside but..." he opens the door and let's you go in first.

You take in the surroundings. It's a bit cramped, but homely. There's a sofa and tv, and a small kitchen area. Hats adorn the wall, you assume his uncles. It seems relatively clean, just cluttered. There's something about it that feels welcoming. You sigh, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Eddie seems pleased that you haven't run a mile after seeing the place.

"Wheres your room?" You look up at him.

"Steady on sweetheart you just got here" he winks at you.

You hit him playfully on the chest "shut up Eddie."

He gestures to you to take a seat on the couch and you take it gratefully.

"So, what do you want to watch? I rented a few, wasn't sure what you were into."

He gestured to the small pile of videos on the side table. Glancing over the selection you pick out a movie and hand it to Eddie.

"Nightmare on Elm Street? Didn't peg you for a slasher flick girl." He put the film in the VCR.

"Yeah well I've not actually seen it yet." You admit.

"Really? Well buckle up buttercup! You wanna beer? Or a smoke?"

"Is your uncle-"

"-at work. Dont worry." He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Your breath hitched in your throat. 'Lemme grab my tin."

He returns, battered lunch box in hand, and sits on the floor to roll whilst you start watching the film. It's amazing how comfortable you feel around him. Usually you were on edge being at someone else's house, but Eddie made you feel like you belonged there. You kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the sofa.

Eddie joins you. Lighting the joint he takes a couple of tokes then hands it to you. You pass it back and forth for a bit until you start to feel an effect. Giving the last of the joint back to him you say "finish it, that's more than enough for me." You smile at him lazily, head feeling slightly foggy.

"Oh, have I got you stoned sweetheart?" He looks at you, eyes full of mischief.

"Maybe, like this much" you say, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

"Hmm" he says frowning "not buying it. You want a soda, or some water?" You shake your head. He gets up anyway and gets you a glass of water. Taking it you appease him by drinking a few sips. He flops down again and puts his arm around you.

Settling into watching the movie you start to enjoy it, your high mellowing you a little. It's ridiculous but fun, and some of the special effects impress you. The boy on the screen is attacked unexpectedly and it makes you flinch bodily. Eddie sees this and pulls you closer to him, his hand stroking the top of your arm. Eddie starts explaining how they did the blood on the ceiling effect, waving his hand for emphasis. When he stops his hand comes to rest on your knee. You can't help it, you twitch at the feeling, it's like lightning up your leg.

"You okay sweetheart?" Eddie's face is frowning down at you.

"Yeah sure it's nothing."

Eddie's not buying it. He pauses the movie and looks at you.

"Something's going on princess. And it's either good or bad. Or both, I can't tell. Can you let me know? Did I do something wrong?" Eddie looks at you with those puppy dog eyes of his and its almost heartbreaking.

"No Eddie, you're perfect. I like you. It's just... I'm really, um, sensitive. Loud noises and stuff get to me, emotion wise I kinda run hot. Things affect me like, a lot. And I'm really, really touch sensitive." You see some understanding dawn on his face.

"Ah, right, okay, so is that good sensitive, or bad sensitive?"

"It depends. I mean if it's someone gross it feels horrible brushing past them. If it's someone I like, and I'm in a good mood, it's, well it's, hmm... overwhelming." You know he knows what you're trying to say, you dont want to have to say it out loud.

Eddie smirks at you, eyes like the devil himself.

"So, if I do this..." he says, fingertips tracing circles on your knee. Your breath catches in your throat. "It's nice." You manage.

"Hmm" his hand moves higher, onto the inside of your thigh, just under the hem on your skirt, with feather light touches. "And this?" Dark eyes stare down at you. A small moan escapes your lips. "Jesus Eddie..."

Eddie let's out a dark chuckle. He moves his hand off of your leg and you find yourself almost trying to follow the contact. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your head to turn and face him.

"What about this?" He says, eyes darting to your lips and back again, looking for confirmation. You close the gap and press your lips against his.

You've kissed before, messy, sloppy things, but never like this. His kiss is fire, igniting through you. The press of his lips against yours firm and warm. His tongue tentatively reaches out and you submit to him, allowing him to explore your mouth. You reply in kind, using your tongue to swipe against his, moving your hand to weave into his hair. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He draws a deep moan from your mouth, the pure pleasure of the moment taking over you. You can feel his mouth turn at the corners, smiling into you.

He breaks the kiss first, panting slightly. "Was that okay?" He says, hand remaining on your jaw, thumb gently swiping your chin.

You want to say something sarcastic, or flirty, or, well anything. All that comes from your mouth is a half broken whine. Face flushed pink and breath well and truly taken.

"That bad huh?" He chuckles and drops his hand.

"Wow- I mean, Jesus- it's not usually that, er-, intense. Fuck." You continue to try and catch your breath.

"Gonna take that as a sign that maybe you like me, as much as I like you?" Its not a question, but the head tilt and the look from him make it one.

"Maybe. I mean, I've liked you for a while Eddie."

"I've liked you since you sat with us at lunch." He says to you, eyes sparkling, looking a little sheepish. "Why do you think I saved you a seat every day?"

"Seriously? Why didn't you say anything?" You take his hand in yours, fiddling with his rings.

"You seemed like, really shy. Didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

You smile at him softly. "Not shy, just... sensitive. I've had a lot of shit in the past from people, saying that I come across too keen, so I kinda dial it back. Plus I don't exactly want to invite people touching me, you know."

"Except me?" He says smugly.

"Except you." You nod.

He entwines his fingers with yours, looking down for a moment. "You shouldn't care what people think you know." He looks back at you "don't make yourself less for anyone."

Your eyes well up instantly at that. Wiping a stray tear from your eye you respond, "sorry, no ones ever said that before." You smile weakly.

He presses a soft peck to your lips. "Wanna finish the movie?"

"Okay"

Eddie presses play and this time you lean into his arms, pulling his arm around your shoulders and holding his hand. You hear a soft chuckle from him. His other hand comes to rest on your knee, tracing absent minded circles. You bask in the feeling of his warm body pressed against you for a moment.

After a few minutes it's just too much.

"Jesus Eddie why are you so warm?"

"I don't know, you must bring it out in me princess."

You giggle and lean forward, taking off your shirt, and snuggle back next to him. Eddie's eyes are no longer on the movie. He's looking at you and your exposed midriff. His hand tentatively moves from your knee to your stomach. Before he touches you he whispers "this okay?"

You turn your head to him to say yes, planting a quick kiss on his cheek and keep watching the movie.

Eddie's fingers find your flesh, stroking so softly it sends shivers over you. You feel your skin break out in goosebumps. His fingertips dance over you with such care. He flattens his hand and strokes it across your abdomen, the tip of his thumb just brushing the underside of your breast and you inhale suddenly whilst squeezing your thighs together. He lightly scratches across your stomach with his fingernails and you let out a quiet, low moan.

"Eddie-" you turn and realise he's been watching you the whole time.

"What? This is so much more interesting than watching Krueger, trust me."

"Eddie I didn't tell you so you can take advantage!" You say, but theres no malice in it. You smile at him.

Eddie, ever the dramatic, wobbles his head at you and mimics your voice, "Oh Eddie, I'm like, really sensitive, and the smallest touch turns me on but don't do anything about it!"

"I don't sound like that!" You laugh loudly at him, your frame shaking. "And that's not what I said!"

"That's what I heard sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Sit on my hands??" He wiggles his fingers at you and with exaggerated movements forcefully sits on his own hands, frowning and flicking his head the opposite way.

"Eddie?" You touch his shoulder. If anything he turns his head even further away. You can't help but giggle.

"Eddie..." you say in a sing song voice. Nothing.

"Eddie!" Still nothing. You get up as if to leave, but turn to him and straddle his lap. His head is still turned so you take the opportunity to kiss at his neck, trailing kisses and small nibbles.

"Now that's just unfair sweetheart."

"No" you say, still peppering him with kisses "this is unfair" and you mouth the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and suck, hard.

"Holy shit." Eddie wriggles but realises hes trapped himself, his hands stuck under both his weight and yours.

You release his neck with a wet pop and sit back on his lap with a smug smile. Something hard is digging into you, you wiggle slightly and...

Oh.

"Had enough revenge?" Eddie tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows. You shift your weight so he can free his hands, momentarily lost for words. He reaches out to move some stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear.

"C'mere." He puts his hand to the back of your head and guides you towards him, mouth finding yours.

God, you could become addicted to this feeling. His mouth on yours, hands caressing your waist and hips, his warmth between your legs. You feel a pulse deep inside you, spreading in your core. You roll your hips, grinding your heat down on his jean covered member, drawing a deep groan from both of you.

You plant one hand firmly on the back of the couch, the other in his hair, and deepen the kiss. Every touch feels electric. His palms pressing into your hips leave tingles in their wake. You grind against him again, feeling yourself getting wetter, moaning into his mouth, the feeling building until you know you need to stop. That was embarrassingly fast. You break the kiss and look at him, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Sorry, I have to stop or I'll..." you blush crimson and look away.

"Or you'll what?" He says until his eyes widen. "Oh, were you gonna come?" The last word a whisper. You nod your head.

"Fuck that's so hot. Please don't stop." His hands move to stroke your thighs, bucking his hips into you. You let out a broken moan. Eddie's hands reach under your skirt and grab you by the ass. You lean forward and kiss him again, with urgency this time, tongues clashing. You grind against him, trembling with pleasure. Breaking the kiss you throw your head back, eyes closed, mouth parted.

"Eddie, fuck, oh God yes Eddie!"

You release; the hot, incredible feeling spreads throughout your limbs. Grinding against Eddie you try to keep the high going as long as possible.

Finally coming to a stop, you look down at his face. You want to feel embarrassed but he nearly looks as fucked as you feel, red in the face, hair clinging to his sweaty brow, eyebrows knitted together, mouth slightly open. Chuckling and smiling shyly at him, you move some hair from his face, mirroring what he did to you earlier.

"You okay sweetheart?" He looks at you, stroking your thighs.

"Yeah you could say that" you laugh "how about you?"

"Me? I nearly came in my pants, Jesus Christ!"

You giggle and hide your face in your hands. "Sorry." You say again as if on instinct.

"Hey" he grabs your wrists, "pretty girl, look at me." You reluctantly turn your head back to face him.

"This might be the best day of my life, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop apologising." You giggle but Eddie looks at you with a serious face.

"Okay Eddie, I'll stop apologising." You climb off his lap and flop next to him on the couch. When you look over you cannot help but see an unmistakable wet patch on his jeans.

You look at it and your eyes flick back to his face. Staring at him he raises his eyebrows at you.

"No. More. Apologising. That's fucking hot." He states, gesturing to his crotch.

"We missed the movie" you say lately, pouting at him.

"Well, I think I've just found my favourite thing to do, and it's a hell of a lot better than watching a movie" Eddie says waggling his eyebrows at you. Sniggering, you bat your eyelashes.

"So, you ready to show me your room?"

"Well, how can I resist when you pull that face?"

He gets up off the couch and walks to the back of the trailer, opening the far door.

"Well, you coming sweetheart?" He gestures at you to follow.

Stepping into his room, you don't know what to expect. It's a mess, not exactly dirty but theres stuff everywhere. Posters adorn every available wall space. Tapes flow over the small desk to one side. Theres note paper and clothes on the floor, and an overflowing ashtray on the bedside table.

"Yeah, wasn't expecting you to come in here, maid's day off and all." He grabs the ashtray and a couple of empty bottles and jogs out the room to dispose of them. Returning with a clean ashtray, he places it on the bedside table and comes behind you, holding you at the waist. His lips press on your neck, sweeping open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your shoulder and back again, hands pressing firmly into your hips as if he thought you might slip away.

Leaning back you bask in the feeling, tipping your head back and smiling.

"Stay" he whispers, almost too quietly; so quiet you're not sure you heard.

"What?"

"Stay." A little louder this time, still peppering you with kisses.

"You mean stay the night?" You question, turning your head to face him, butterflies exploding in your belly. Fingertips ghost your sides, tracing your figure.

"The night." Still kissing your neck, he continues, "the weekend," trailing kisses down your back, meeting the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake, getting down on his knees to kiss the small of your back, "forever."

Turning to face him he looks up at you, huge brown eyes boring into your soul. Giggling and mussing his hair with your hand you stare back, the question burning in your mind.

Eddie knows. Eddie always knows.

"What's on your mind sweetheart?" He smiles into your skin, nipping and kissing where your skirt meets your stomach.

"Not much when you keep doing that, Jesus."

"Sorry," he grins, smug smile spreading across his face, "it's hard to stop myself."

"It's just... is this real? I mean, you said you like me, but do you... I mean, is this..." you wring your hands, trying to make the words surface in your head.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Eddie grasps your hands; you have no choice but to turn your head down to face him.

"When I said this might be the best day of my life, I fuckin' meant it. You're literally the girl of my dreams. I've been dreaming of you, actually." He presses his mouth to you again, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt. You sigh in response, legs shaking slightly.

"Jesus Eddie-"

"Not Jesus, just me." He chuckles, hands drifting to your legs, stroking your thighs.

"Fuck Eddie wait..."

"Sorry, you just, you do things to me." He smiles up at you.

"Are we, are we a thing now?"

"What like a couple? Sure, I'm not letting you go anywhere."

Your tummy does a backflip, hoping, longing.

"Well maybe I can stay. I just, I want you to be sure, you know. And I've never, done much with boys. In case you think I'm not... any good."

Eddie gasps at that, his eyes soften. "Oh sweetheart, theres no universe out there where you could possibly not be any good, in any way. You're amazing."

"So, you gonna get up off the floor, or..." you giggle.

"I'm pretty happy here, unless you don't want me to." He flips your skirt up and sees just how wet your panties are. A low groan escapes his throat. You shut your eyes for a second, trying to gather yourself.

"Eddie, I'm trying to say..."

"Yes, I know baby I know. Seriously, if you want me to stop, tell me. I'll stop. You can still stay. We can just go to sleep. Or cuddle." His eyes meet yours, brow furrowed.

You back up a little and you see the disappointment Eddie tries to hide written over his face. Smiling, you sit on the edge of his bed, wriggling your hands down from your hips to your ankles. Eddie looks at you in confusion until you open your hand, your underwear in your palm.

"Now that's the best magic trick I've ever seen!" His eyes wide, grin threatening to split his face in half. You can only blush in response. Waddling over to you on his knees, Eddie grabs your hand and takes your panties. Before you can say anything they've been shoved into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"I hope I'm getting them back..."

"Getting what back?" Eddie grins wolfishly, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

The will to argue dissipates when his kisses trail higher and higher. With deft movements his rough fingers are rubbing the insides of your thighs, travelling towards your throbbing pussy. Leaning back onto your elbows you gaze at Eddie through half lidded eyes, wondering how you could have possibly gotten this lucky. As if he could sense your attention he glances up, running his tongue dangerously near your sex. You moan at the sensation, fingers grabbing the comforter underneath you.

"Fuck, you're just so responsive," he plants a kiss to your mound and you squirm, moaning.

"Oh, we are going to have a lot of fun sweetheart." Eddie smirked at you, eyes shining.

"Eddie please..." you wriggle, skirt riding up to your hips, cunt on full display for him.

He lifts your legs up and over his shoulders. The swipe of his tongue over your tender heat is sudden, sending rivers of pleasure through you. Gently he laps at you, his thumbs pressing bruises into your thighs. The feeling is immense, flowing, molten fire running through your veins. It's both too much and not enough, you need more, more feeling, more Eddie.

"Oh God Eddie..."

He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks softly. Licking and kissing at you; you buck into him, chasing the feeling, unimaginable heat coiling in your stomach, chest, wrists. Nothing matters except this moment. Incoherent babble escapes your lips, telling him not to stop and how good it feels, then just his name, over and over and over.

Eddie's groaning into you, the vibration nearly sending you over the edge. With a final suck to your swollen bud you come, clenching around nothing. You buck and writhe against his face, using it to chase never ending pleasure. Lewd, erotic noises fall from your mouth but you can't find it in you to care. All that matters is you, and Eddie, and the feeling.

Shaking and whimpering you start to come down, well and truly spent. Knuckles white from how hard you were clinging to the bed clothes. Realising this you finally loosen your grip. Eddie moves your still twitching legs off of his shoulders and looks up at you. Your slick is coating his lower face, shining in the light. Eddie literally looks like the cat that got the cream. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I've changed my mind, that is my new favourite thing to do" he says with a roguish grin.

Your smile at him, arms reaching out, making grabby hands at him. Chuckling he climbs over you, straddling you. You kiss him full on the mouth, lingering tang of you on his lips. Fingers stroke down to his waist, fiddling with his belt.

"Woah princess no need. Literally." He looks you in the eye, and you stare back, hand reaching to his manhood, and glance down.

Oh.

"Did you-"

"Cum in my pants? Yup." Literally no shame in his voice; he almost looks proud.

You giggle, hand to your mouth. It's almost a relief, having no real idea of what to do with it anyway. Plus, it's nice to know you have a similar effect on him.

"So, I'm gonna clean up and get changed. You need something to sleep in?"

"I'm ok, I usually sleep naked, if that's not a problem?" Your eyes meeting his.

Groaning, Eddie throws his head back, hands to his face, and falls backwards to the floor. You gasp, then realise this is Eddie being his usual self.

"Holy shit sweetheart you cannot say shit like that to me. I've died. I've literally died, and I'm in heaven, and you're some sort of angel." He splays his arms wide, tongue out, eyes closed. Shaking your head you throw a pillow at him, jerking him out of it.

"No need for the vicious attack, I'm having a moment."

He jumps up to go to the bathroom. Stripping off and climbing under the covers, you take a minute whilst he's away to think, really think. It's so hard when he's so near, clouding your judgement. You know you can be impulsive. Is this too much too soon? Am I gonna make a fool of myself? Does he really like me as much as I like him? Your emotions usually get the best of you and the constant struggle is exhausting. Maybe you don't need to think about this tonight. Enjoy tonight, let tomorrow be what it is.

When Eddie returns, all doubt is erased from your mind. He's standing there in a pair of plaid boxers, and his eyes light up at the sight of you in his bed. The look he gives you makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world.

Smiling shyly at him, he stands at the foot of the bed, continuing to stare.

"Something on your mind Eddie?"

"No I'm good, just a bit... overwhelmed." Knowing smirk plastered on his face.

"I can probably help you with that, you know."

"Well, it seems like we've got all night." The look on his face is pure sin.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fan fic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic

8K notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

Heyyy, could I please request jealous Eddie Munson headcanons? This could either go in a angsty, smutty or fluffy way, your choice :))

Sure thing! Anything with Eddie is good in my book.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, established relationship, kissing, clothes sharing, jealousy, protectiveness, shotgun smoking

A/N: Just one kiss and you know he'd be gone and head over heels with you.

Jealous!Eddie who pulls you next to him, guiding you into his lap as he takes a seat at the table. He keeps his hand on top of yours the whole time, his body bent towards yours and his eyes locked only on you. Unless someone approaches you that is.

Jealous!Eddie who doesn't hesitate to give you his jacket. Need it, don't need it, doesn't matter, its a gesture. You know full well he has no problem with you taking his clothes whenever you want. The only downside is that it might just get a reaction out of him, but thank god you're in a dimly lit club and that you're in his lap to hide it.

Jealous!Eddie who can get pretty loud about signaling to others that you're a couple. Most of the time its to show everyone what an awesome and hot girlfriend he has by his side. He's showing off for sure. But the other times its if he notices people eyeing you up and down, not on his watch, only he can do that, you only want him to be the one doing that so while a little embarrassing you generally don't mind him raising his voice to announce that you're a couple.

Jealous!Eddie who will light a cigar and inhale the smoke and hold it. He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he tilts your chin close and pushes your mouth open with his thumb, delighting in the sound you make. Very pretty but he's trying to make a statement. Hot breath and smoke fills your lungs as he kisses you, exhaling and blowing a bit of leftover smoke at you as you separate.

Jealous!Eddie who doesn't want anyone else buying you drinks for the night, its all on him. He's being a gentleman of course! And he knows your favorites so only he can guess what you're in the mood for tonight. The real sweetness will come later when you're alone though, so don't drink too much.

Jealous!Eddie who grumbles against your neck when you tell him about the bad pickup lines people have tried on you. He can tell you better ones in his sleep. He's got a gifted tongue and mouth, as he's been told by you many times in the past.

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #stranger things x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x fem!reader #eddie x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson #x reader #x female reader

580 notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

Text

❤️🌸

The reader gets jealous, maybe when some old flame of Eddie's come around and she's gorgeous and they share a laugh and she gets insecure that maybe he misses that old life and she starts to withdraw and avoid him to "ease the pain when it comes" but Eddie reassures her when he finally understand what's going on and also tells her that he was scared as hell that she was planning to leave him and THAT has never happened before? And then he's going to 'punish' her for scaring him the crap out of him ^^ Fluffy, a little angsty and smutty

A part two of sorts to For The First Time

Request by @somethingvicked

❤️❤️

Warnings; Angst, Jealous Reader, fluff. Smut (spanking) 18+ minors go away.

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

💕🌸

You were not jealous, not at all... Okay, that was a huge lie because you were very jealous right now of the pretty ex of Eddie's you met while the two of you were hanging out at a bar.

She was gorgeous and lovely and watching Eddie share a laugh with her at something he said makes her burn with envy.

Her name was Bella- she even had a pretty name and a pretty fucking laugh and was around the same age as Eddie.

So gorgeous and older and sophisticated, it made you feel inadequate.

It was ridiculous for you to be so jealous but you were, Eddie had proudly introduced you as his girl but you still couldn't help it as your mind raced with anxiety.

You loved Eddie so much and he loved you, god he told you constantly but the thing about anxiety is that one thought could play in your head all day and that's what was happening right now.

Even though she had a very lovely boyfriend herself it didn't ease your mind, it took time for you to de-stress when you got really anxious or worked up about something.

Eddie smiles as he slips his arm around your waist, kisses your forehead and bades goodbye to Bella and Derek.

The knot of tension you felt while watching them together tightens even more as you worry that Eddie may miss his old life, flitting from one fling to the next without a care in the world.

What if he missed no strings attachments and his fuckboi days? The thought turns your stomach to ice.

"Want to head back to mine sweetheart?" he asks and you frown still feeling out of sorts.

"I don't feel very good. Can you take me home?"his face falls.

"Oh, yeah right" you kiss his cheek and get into his van your stomach still churning.

❤️❤️

Come morning the feeling doesn't fade away, in fact it's worse and even though you go to work and try to take your mind of it there's still the tight feeling and a brutal headache to go with it.

The pain of losing Eddie would be immense and you were desperate to protect your heart incase of it happening.

But even as you distance yourself a bit just to clear your head for the next couple of days you miss Eddie so much.

You want to talk to him but you're unsure what to say.

Just when you're about to head out to see him after having enough of shutting yourself away your door opens and he comes in.

He doesn't look happy, his big brown eyes are full of worry and he walks up to you.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay. I haven't seen you in two days, I've been worrying like shit"

He paces back and forward.

" Why have you been so weird all of a sudden. Are, are you leaving me?" his eyes fill with agony and you rush to him.

"What? No! no I'm not leaving you" the tenseness in his body melts away but only a little bit.

"You've been distant since Thursday, I'm sitting here worried as shit that you're going to leave me, I've never worried about that before because I've never gave a shit until I met you and the thought of you leaving me rips my heart apart"

Teary you cup his cheek.

"I'm not leaving you. I love you so much Eddie, it's just you know on Thursday when we met Bella. I've been anxious and it's just taking me a little while to calm down"

Eddie softens

"Oh princess that's why you were off?"he finally gets it and you nod with a cute pout on your face.

"I guess, she was beautiful, older, sophisticated. I worried you missed your old life, maybe missed her" he snorts.

"Absolutely not. Bella and I lasted a total of two weeks sweetheart, it was a fling and it meant nothing, there was no attachment or feelings between us in any way. We both knew that and we ended things amicably"

You relax a little bit as he strokes your cheek.

"I just got anxious, she's so beautiful" he softens and gently kisses you.

"No one is as beautiful as you in my eyes sweetheart, no one and I don't miss my old life, it was cold and empty. I realised that when I fell in love with you. I love being with you, love the connection we have"

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto his lap.

"I love waking up to the most beautiful girl in the world beside me and I feel so fucking lucky, I would never trade what we have for anything, you got me for life sweetheart" his words melt your heart and you beam.

"I love you Eddie, I'm sorry I made you worry" he gets a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, princess. I think I may have to punish you for worrying me sick huh?" your whole body tingles at that thought.

"Oh?" he smirks and his fingers dance up your shirt.

"Take off your clothes and get on the bed sweetheart, " you do and wonder what he has planned for tonight.

"Lie on your stomach" he orders and you immediately feel arousal pool in your lower belly.

Was he going to spank you? You had done it a few times and you thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Count to five sweetheart" his hand caresses your backside and you count to one in your head.

He lightly slaps your ass. "Out loud sweetheart" you smirk and begin to count.

One

Two

"You were very bad sweetheart. Worrying me, worrying yourself sick for no reason"

Three, "Think you might to spank me harder it isn't quite sinking in" you tease and he does.

Four

"Just one more princess" Eddie croons.

Five

The last one makes you shriek with giggles because right after Eddie gently kisses over your ass and his stubble tickles.

Eddie then pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead and you curl into him.

"I've missed you sweetheart, next time there's any problem talk to me okay? Communication is important. You told me that" you nod and he kisses you deeply.

"Now, I would very much like to make love to my girl all night. That sound good to you angel?"

Hell yes. ,

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #older eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut

749 notes · View notes

muffinsin · 4 months

Note

Amidst the angst I bring some fluff, how each of the sisters hug? Like, what's the vibe, how does it feel to be in their embrace? How do they like to cuddle? Are they all comfortable and fine with giving hugs or is this sometimes awkward?

Ah! The light on the horizon! XP just kidding, I love all requests- smutty, fluffy and angsty :) this one’s adorable! Let get into it!!😇

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

At first, her hugs are very stiff

She isn’t sure what to do- where to place her hands properly and how long to stay in your shared embrace

She isn’t a hugger or cuddler, really. More of a hand shaker. Bela likes to keep things very professional

However, with you, this changes

She feels awkward with hugging at first, but the touch starved blonde knows it’s something she deeply wants

She learns quickly how to hug you properly, and has multiple ways of hugging you;

There is the protective one, whenever you feel overwhelmed or stressed, or she feels worried about you

Then, her arms are tightly around you, and her head rests on your head. It’s protective, and feels firm and warm, and most of all like nothing bad can reach you

Then there is the second kind, in which she wraps her arms around you comfortably

This feels warmer even, and casual. She feels very close this way, and it allows you to feel her properly and smell her perfume

She likes to do this just before cuddling

Either way, she is not one for casual hugs. She will hug you for many seconds, and it will usually turn into cuddling

She likes to spoon you in bed, but will blush and cuddle you a little tighter when you spoon her

When cuddling, she likes to smell herself on you. In turn, you can usually smell her scent as well; her rich perfume or the scent of her bath water and oils rubbed into her skin

Bela is very reluctant to stop cuddling once she has started

She wishes she could have her arms around you/feel yours around her forever

The times she cuddles the most are in bed, at night and in the morning, as well as shorter cuddle sessions whenever you visit her as she works

Then, she loves to simply rest her head on your stomach as you stand at her desk

Sometimes she will also pull you in her lap as to treat you like a personal teddy bear

She will outright refuse cuddling and hugging in front of her family. She wants to remain somewhat cold and strong to them

In private, you know she is eager for it, and never passes down the opportunity to cuddle

Cassandra

Cassandra isn’t a cuddler, or so you might think

That’s right, the big bad, sadistic terror of Castle Dimitrescu wants nothing more than to curl up in bed on top of you

She never outright asks for cuddles. She thinks it’s embarrassing

Even hugs- she can’t do those at all

She barely hugs you, and when she does, it’s quite awkward as she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t hug anybody, and is only sometimes the victim of Daniela’s random hugs

Like Bela, Cassandra will not cuddle anywhere but in private. She holds the title of the most sadistic one with pride and feels embarrassed for being so touchy and clingy

In secret though, you know how she truly is

She often likes to drag you to her bed after a long day, her body on top of yours and her face hidden in your chest

Her cuddles are warm; she feels a lot like a weighed blanket on top of you

She loves to trace your skin while cuddling you, and have your hand in her hair. She also appreciates when you tell her about your day during this time, but doesn’t mind a comfortable silence

Cassandra isn’t one for words, or asking for cuddles and affection

Instead, she might grab your sleeve or hand and tug it in her direction until you wrap your arms around her and she can do the same with you

She doesn’t cuddle for hours on end, and gets restless rather soon, but she often takes time during her day with the sole intention to cuddle you or have her head on your lap while you talk of your day

At night, she always sleeps on top of you and demands your arms around her. She protects you, and in turn feels protected

Daniela

She loves cuddling

Daniela is by far the touchiest sister, and she isn’t at all bothered by it

You often find yourself going about your day with her swarming out of nowhere and suddenly wrapping her arms around you

She loves surprise hugs. You’re her main victim as it comes to them, but at times when she feels particularly clingy, she might randomly hug her mother and sisters too

She appreciates getting them from you, too, and blushes and beams every time you wrap your arms around her

Daniela’s hugs feel- comfortable. Warm and soft, an embrace like home. She likes to have her arms around you softly, and squeeze you occasionally

As it comes to cuddling, Daniela loves to do so at any given opportunity

Unlike her sisters, she doesn’t care if it’s in front of anybody. You’re hers, after all

Her favorite cuddling locations include the library, in front of a fireplace, and her bed

Spooning is one of her favorite ways to cuddle. She’ll often ask to be the little spoon. She feels so protected with your arms around her

Spooning is also one of the main positions to fall asleep in, should she not rather rest her head on your chest or pull you on top of her

She can be a very hectic person, feeling full of excitement and energy on most days

Cuddling her and reading a book together is an excellent way of calming her down a little

Cudding and hugging are some of her favorite forms of showing affection

Daniela is, quite literally, your snugglebug

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil village

55 notes · View notes

sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Text

Tiramisu

Summary: A few days after you find out about his daughter, Marc takes you to a play and then dinner afterwards to talk to you about a few things.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: A continuation of the universe from this single dad au drabble. Don't look at me I switched POVs. This can be read by itself or with the other part for more context.

Warnings: fluffy, angsty, talk of lawyers and custody, brief allude to Marc's childhood, multiple mentions of smutty times (no smut), swearing (it's Marc), reader is oddly possessive

There's a strange comfort that you find in Marc Spector's presence. The minute, everyday movements of his body that would go unnoticed in anyone else but in him, to you, meant the difference between life and death.

Right now, it's the barely there motion of his temple as he eats. It's going up and down in time with his jaw, the same interweaving pattern his heart and his lungs share with each other.

He's taken you out for dinner tonight. He got free theatre tickets and he took you as his date.

Maya, he said, was too young for the subject matter.

And besides, he felt he hadn't seen you in ages, though it's only been ten days since you saw him last, since you've found out about his daughter.

You can't help but feel that it's a step backwards however. You feel hurt that he didn't take you up on your invitation to make him dinner, though you tried chalking it up to difficulties in trying to find someone to look after Maya.

Should he stay the night.

A more irrational part of you had been hoping he'd invite you back to his apartment again. Had thought you had crossed the line between public and private dates last time.

Last time, after cooking you dinner Marc had poured you another glass of wine and let it rest on the table, leaving a circular stain around the glass. He had taken you to bed, just as you had hoped it. He had taken you to his bed and fucked you.

He fucked you and then he made love to you and then he fucked you one more time, just because he could and just because you wanted him to.

You had left Marc the next morning with a delicious ache in your body, his cologne lingering on your skin. Your lips were a little wet from his kiss before he sent you on your way, weak-kneed and doozy.

Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was more than a little girlish, but that didn't mean you didn't think it.

The heart wanted what it wanted, despite the cool-headed whims of reason.

And your heart wanted Marc.

Despite everything that told you you already had him.

You did have him, you mused, looking at his temples moving up and down as he ate his salad.

You have his temples and the warm, roughened palms of his hands. You had him enough to know of Maya.To see her photos on his walls and know that she’s been taking ballet classes for about two years now.

Despite your best intentions you think for longer than a passing interest about the other people Marc's dated, if they knew of Maya too. If they had met Maya to the point where they felt they could call her theirs.

You swallow done the jealousy with some water, in favour of wine, to keep an illusion of reason about you, so you could pretend you didn't know what he groaned like when he was close to release, what the soft pudge of his dad-belly felt in the palm of your hand.

In time with his temple, the hinge of his jaw bobs similarly up and down. It draws your attention away. It also makes you feel considerably warm inside. Another bit of the man you've come to deeply care for that you can revel in and enjoy. A piece of him that you can kiss and nudge into its proper place of the puzzle inside your chest that paints a pretty (but as of yet incomplete) picture of him.

Marc inspires in you a severe need to learn human anatomy. The names and systems of bones, muscles, ligaments and veins, so you could look at the hinge of his jaw, the bob of his temple and rattle off names in Latin.

To seek comfort in a dead language because it speaks the parts of Marc's body, his living, breathing one whose hand held yours in crowds so as to not lose you, as if you were something worth hanging on to, and spoke to his daughter in soft intonations.

"Good?' He's looking up from his kale and at you; he's chewing a half bite with the right side of his mouth. His gaze is beady and intense as it flicks from your plate to your face multiple times, but his voice is gentle and casual, as if he really was just making small talk.

As if this were a regular date, as if he were a regular man and as if you felt for him a regular amount.

The main course will arrive soon and you realise you've barely made a peck in yours while he's almost finished.

You find yourself in a pickle.

Marc's taken a gamble on the restaurant tonight, he grumbled about it as you had waited for the play to start. Had trusted (which you know now means more than most mean it) the word of a co-worker that this was a good, new fusion place.

He hadn't even looked over the menu before coming.

For him that was as good as a death sentence.

You know the choice of restaurant and play had been hard ones for him. Both of them having essentially been decided for him by someone else. Yet it conversely meant that you would, supposedly, be judging him off somebody else's choices.

And you know that won't settle well with him. Settle just the way raspberries do in his stomach.

You want to tell him, on one hand, that his cooking was better. But that also meant his hamster-wheel of a mind would spin it into thinking you implied that you'd rather be at his place.

Pushing at his boundaries like that was the last thing you would ever do.

Besides that strong moral line, your answer would have had another insinuation between the lines.

It means you don't like the restaurant. The one he hadn't scoped out ahead of time. His co-worker's favourite restaurant that you now will think was his. Even if he’s never come here before, even if he usually checks menus before going.

And Marc took his restaurants, like everything else, very seriously.

Of course, the other, more plausible and normal option would be to say that the salad is good.

If there was anyone besides Marc sitting in front of you.

You've barely fuckin’ touched it.

You can hear his voice in your ears now. Can see the displeased little downturn of his mouth which he tries and fails miserably to hide.

Marc builds forests out of salads.

You've become attuned to not only his funny American accent and his funny American swears you usually only hear on TV nowadays, but his way of thinking. Which is neither funny nor American in the slightest.

It's instead the beauty that is the mind of Marc Spector.

It means both calculus-like computations over salad but it also meant his owl-like observations about the costumes, the lighting, the delivery of the lines in the play. It means that he goes beforehand and reads not just the menu of the restaurant but the play itself, even if you highly doubt he has the time to spare to pile through pages and pages of dense dialogue and sort out the meaning underneath, what with a full-time job and a daughter to raise.

You had sneaked a glance at his copy, at the notes scribed in the margin in his all-caps cramped handwriting.

You didn't need much to figure out just one jewel more about him.

Marc worked in a business consultation firm.

But he had a talent for whatever he put his mind, or pencil, to.

"Honey?" You've gotten lost in thought again and smile at him, he looks nonetheless worried. He looks back at the salad, at the play program sticking out your purse, then at you. "I woulda ordered the Greek if I knew you didn't like kale."

You shake your head and smile helplessly. You've left him alone with his thoughts for too long and he's jumped to conclusions like a frog on lily pads. "The salad's great, and I like kale. Don't worry."

You pick your fork back up to continue eating but you're not sure it'll do much to assuage his worries.

Like clockwork, the divot appears between his eyebrows. Had you been at his place or yours you would have dared to press it away.

In the blinding spotlight of the public, you sit on your hands instead.

"You've barely fuckin' touched it."

He points out the obvious to catch your bluff. And in some sick and twisted way, to tell you to give him the hard, ugly truth and rip the band-aid off sooner than later.

It's so predictable that you feel like laughing but you keep your face intentionally neutral.

"I like it, I really do," you reach forward with your free hand to press on top of his. His temple and jaw are working over time chewing his kale to a pulp. If you looked under the table, his knee would be bouncing up and down, consistently and tightly. "I was just thinking..."

Of him.

But when were you not?

"Of the play?" This is your chance to right your previous wrongs over the salad and you snatch at it, since it wasn't really far from the truth anyways.

You're also a little shy to tell him that the movement of his temple is something that comforts you.

"Yeah, it was great. Thanks for inviting me."

To an untrained eye, it seems nothing has changed in his expression. To you, his eyes give him away, victorious, satisfied, put-at-ease. His temple calms down a little, he lets himself swallow whatever is left of his food.

True to your word you start eating again.

"'Course, honey. "

That was also new. Had started just this evening when you thanked him for opening the door for you.

Marc called Maya baby; he called you honey.

It's the fact that he's doing it publicly, in front of the watchful eye of the restaurant that gives you the courage to press away the frown on his forehead.

He pauses.

Swirls your action around in his mind like a salty ocean wave stuck in a bay.

He likes it. There are faint twitches of the delicate muscles of his face that let you know he does.

Like a teenager he's flustered. He flusters you and makes heat rise all over your body.

The entrées come as a saving grace to those bashful half-glances that were soon to follow.

The two of you need some time to adjust to the renegotiated boundaries of the tulips blooming between you. The silence that falls isn't awkward or misplaced.

It's right. Necessary.

The up and down of his temple is sweeter than caramel to your soul. You're not sure you can do dessert tonight with the way you've hyper fixated on the movements his head makes when he chews.

You glance up at him from your salmon, him from his lentil curry bowl. You catch his eye and smile furtively. There might as well have been an adult chaperone on your right.

He sends you a wink. An otherwise confident and flirty gesture that coming from him, like that, was only a direct reflection of how you were feeling.

Honey.

You liked how that sounded in his voice. His voice soft and like fresh towels thrown into the dryer to get hot. Its effect on your heart like spun sugar or cotton candy.

You wonder what kind of sweet pet names you can dole out now, like you would tiramisu.

In heaping spoonfuls.

"The main actor was great," he offers up. He's latched onto the one thing he thinks you enjoyed for certain out of the evening and driving that main point home, making sure you remember the good stuff only. "You see the way he switched in those last two scenes? Phenomenal."

He's talking like he's a full-time drama critic, one that had his own column he wrote for every week.

Though you doubt he finds the time to go to the theatre every week.

"I liked the sisters as well," you offer back. Tilting your head to the side you think for a moment before adding on, "Really strong cast."

"That's all in the writing," he wipes his mouth with his napkin. A little less surely he tacks on, "You wanna borrow my copy?"

"Sure, sweetheart, that'd be nice."

Sweetheart.

That's nice.

Seems to have the same effect on him as honey has on you.

He reaches into his briefcase and passes you his book, the cover blue and a little worn at the edges from being used. You treasure it and tuck it away in your purse, not for the words of the playwright, but the words Marc has layered on top of them like lace trim.

"Look I-uh..."

The waiter comes and asks for the plans for dessert.

Marc always lets you choose and you always get the same thing, if it's on the menu. Otherwise something with chocolate.

Tiramisu.

Nowadays when you eat it by yourself at home, you think of his creamy, coffee kisses after your dates. You think of the tiramisu brown of his eyes, warm and vulnerable every time he's done kissing you.

You ask for tiramisu tonight because they had it and turn back to Marc as the boy walks away.

You feel he's going to talk to you about something important.

He's hinted at it gently and implicitly all night.

So you tune your attention into him like a radio station.

"I-uh wanted to talk to you..." the words are the beginnings of your living nightmare. The threads in his jaw and neck rub on top of each other and he runs a comforting hand over his clean-shave as he prepares to keep talking. "About Maya."

"Alright," you lean forward. The sounds of the restaurant have all but faded away into ether.

He seems taken aback by your answer, frowning again, "You-uh, don't have anything to say first?"

Your heart lurches in your throat, "Was I supposed to have thought about something?"

"No!" He flinches at his own voice, and clears his throat, calms down. "No," he shrugs and looks down at the table. "I just thought that maybe you'd-" he hears the rest of his sentence and shuts down. "Ah, forget it. It was stupid anyways."

He reaches up and tugs at his curls, rubs his neck.

"Marc, sweetheart," you take his free hand in yours. "It wasn't stupid, and I won't think it stupid if you want to share it with me."

He looks you deep in the eyes and then shakes his head again, makes a dismissive gesture with his hand that makes your stomach drop.

"Just thought..." he ruffles his curls the way a bird inadvertently does when trying to groom itself. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk about it the other night. Thought maybe after it settled in you might have had a change of thought."

It bothers you to no extent that he's thought you wanted to end things with him and all the while he's still taken you out to dinner and will for sure insist on paying for it afterwards.

"Well, I don't," you say it as assertively as you can. "I...well, truth be told, I like spending time with you, Marc. I like where this is going and Maya seems like a sweet girl."

"She is.” The times when he’s talking of his daughter are one of the only instances you hear his voice so self-assured and relaxed. "And you like having her in your future? With me?"

You nod, reach for his other hand, "I've always liked kids."

"You want some of your own someday?"

It seemed a little early for the kids and marriage talk, but you see the worries inside Marc like pearls in a clam shell and you touch their shiny, translucent surfaces one-by-one.

You shrug, but you make sure to not look away, "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

He tsks, clearly not satisfied with the ambiguity of your answer, "Maya's mother, she was never in the picture. Left as soon as she could."

"Oh, Marc-"

"Well, that was what we agreed on. She'd carry the baby to term if I took full custody," he looks down at his hands. "We even got a lawyer to make sure it was all sorted out, even if we were never married."

"How old were you when Maya was born then?" The image of him in the hospital, forever ingrained in your mind, conjures itself all over again.

"Thirty, I think."

That made him a handful of years older than you. The greys in the curled roses of his hair speak testament to it.

"Did you want kids?"

A flushed waiter shuffles over, mumbling something about a broken espresso machine, plops an extra plate of dessert in front of you to make up for it. Then he's going, going, gone away with haste.

It makes you both laugh at the intrusion, those stomach-clenching eye wrinkles of his showing up again. You wonder if you could touch them the way he let you press away his frown.

"Well," laughter hangs around his voice like morning dew and sunshine on a sidewalk after a hot day. "No, never really thought of them. Till Maya's mother that is. Then it seemed that it was all I wanted."

You wish the place had booths, so you could slide in beside him and kiss him the way you want to. To make him laugh and touch his face, his throat to feel the vibrations of it in your fingers.

"It must have been hard, raising her by yourself."

“Oh, well,” he laughs, shrugs in a way that makes a lock of his hair curl down into his forehead. “She was a good baby. Hardly ever cried.”

“Did you have any help?”

Marc has never mentioned his parents to you, nor has he brought up the names of any siblings. There was a cousin he’d told you about last time.

He seems to you a very lonely man.

There’s a strange ache in your chest as you think of Marc again, alone with a baby. Barely getting any sleep and making formula milk at three in the morning.

Your stomach twists in unknown ways as you think of the way his shoulders must have moved as he tested the temperature on the delicate skin of his wrists, of his hair curling every which way, the way it looked like the morning after he had sex with you three times.

Marc tenses up, looks to his side, the top of his cheek twitching, “Yeah-uh, here n’there.” There’s a crack in his voice that sounds like a tectonic plate shifting.

You reach over the table, cupping his face. Though you don’t move, it makes him shift to look back at you. There are sand dunes of emotions in his eyes, morphing into one another and shifting every second you look at him. There’s too much there for you to understand, for you to be able to help with.

The helplessness that drowns you binds your lungs together.

“She’s a great kid,” you know what he’s going to say again, but you press against the boulder of an excuse. “Great parents raise great kids. You’re doing so well by her-”

He scoffs and looks away. His hand comes up on top of yours and places it back on top of the table, gives it two reassuring pats and you a raise of his eyebrows. “Yeah…well-”

“She’s happy, Marc,” you swat away the mosquitoes of his insecurities, the cockroaches of his excuses. “I’ve never met her, but I know that much. You can’t hide that kind of happiness...or fake it.”

He pauses, glances at you to let the words sink in and then looks at the tablecloth. “I never really got any help with her,” he says grimly. “My cousin moved…maybe a year or two ago. Before that, it was just me n’Maya.”

You reach forward and take his hands in yours and squeeze them. You’re quiet for some time, the sounds of a jazz band tuning up in the background almost like static. You’re hardly even vaguely aware of it.

Marc squeezes your hands, catches your attention again, “And you.”

You frown, the thundering of your heart not sure what to make of it, to believe him or not.

“And you, now,” he repeats again. “Me, Maya…and you,” there are nerves trailing at the edge of his voice like shorelines, his eyes are warm like the coloured pieces of floor when the sun hits stained glass. “That is…if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” you want to say that his words set alight butterflies all over your body but that would be inadequate. There are flocks upon flocks of geese, squawking and flapping every which way, you can barely think over the sounds they’re making.

And you, now.

“I want that, Marc,” you smile, and then let out a nervous little shudder of a laugh. An easy breath, after the taught tension that had begun to build up.

“Yeah?” the depths of his eyes light up, the delicate skin around them creases.

“Yeah.” It comes out breathy and awkward. You think you said yes to your first kiss much the same way.

“Ok,” he laughs, the tightness draining out of his shoulders, a smile growing on his face like cherry blossoms. “Ok, that…that went better than I expected.”

“I’m glad,” you don’t dare to ask what he’d expected, to see what kind of image yourself you’d portrayed and how he’d built it up inside his mind. Underneath that as well is the insinuation that this hasn’t gone the way he’d hoped before. Meaning that he’s done this before, meaning that there was someone that sat across from him, just as you are right now. That he cared enough about them to tell them about Maya.

You don’t mean to be so nit-picky, so jealous and possessive.

It just sort of happened to you.

One day, Marc was the guy you were casually seeing, the one with the pretty smile and the intense loneliness that poured out of him like sludge, and the next you were here, talking about your future together, one that had his daughter in it as well.

You had never been one to get attached so easily. It concerns you how easily and quickly this came to you, like a newly-hatched turtle already dragging itself to the ocean.

You wonder what’s made Marc different from the rest of the people you’ve gone out with.

The question strikes an unpleasant nerve, one that’s embedded deep into tissue and muscle, and you leave it alone. Instead, you pick up a spoon and start to pick away at the long forgotten dessert.

As you’d expected, it’s too sweet for you right now, even the bitterness of the coffee doesn’t manage to balance it out.

Maybe you’ll take this to go, enjoy it in the morning and pretend Marc is sitting in front of you at your table, frowning as he looks down at his phone.

In your little daydream, there’s a faint giggle that sounds like what meringue tastes like, a gentle patter of children’s feet approaches the table and-

Something bumps into your table at the restaurant. It makes Marc’s knife hit the base of his wine glass and draws you out of your thoughts again, heart pounding, heat rising to your face, feeling as if you’ve done something wrong.

An older couple apologises to the both of you and they swirl away again, dancing to the rhythm of the music.

Though they’re not exactly the picture of grace and elegance, their movements jerky from dried and rusty joints, there’s a certain light that radiates from out of them. It draws your eyes towards them, brings a smile to your face.

“Hey,” Marc’s voice is soft like the espresso-soaked ladyfingers of the tiramisu on the table. Though his palm is gently roughened over, it’s even softer than his voice as he lets it rest on top of your hand. “You wanna dance?”

You look back at him, then down at the table shyly, hiding behind your wing, “I don’t know how.”

He shrugs, gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I don’t know how either.” Having made the decision for the two of you he stands up, takes your hand and leads you towards the dance floor.

The warmth of his arm around your waist reminds you of the passion he showed you in his bed. It makes you shiver, draws your body to his the way a compass is drawn to the North.

You don’t do much of dancing, if you’re being honest. Nothing compared to the intricate footwork patterns the other couples are doing. Marc holds you and sways with you, your feet shuffling together awkwardly.

He hums along to the music, his voice is gentle and soothing. You can feel the vibrations of it in your chest, the warmth of his body spilling into yours like a waterfall.

Then, with his hand curled around you, he draws you in closer, almost imperceptibly if you hadn’t been able to tell by the brush of his clothes against you. You’re so close now that the only reasonable choice is to press your head onto his shoulder, to take in the smell of his cologne and his skin.

There’s the wave of a sigh that comes and fades away. His exhale rolls over your shoulder, curls around your heart like a cat’s tail. Though he doesn’t speak, there are words that come with his breath that you can hear.

You place your cheek against his and hope that he hears your response.

You fit together like puzzle pieces, a lock and key.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

327 notes · View notes

trigunwritings · 1 year

Note

hello helloo!! can i request for wolfwood x fem/gender neutral reader please? maybe they both grew up in the same orphanage or knew each other from somewhere and they had a reunion? can be fluffy or smutty or maybe angsty (but with a happy ending please because im a coward 😀). thank you! 🙌

It’s hard not to wince as the cloth is pulled tight around your thigh—still, the moment of pain is worth not losing so much blood and passing out across the floor of this long-forgotten building. Deft hands are quick to tie a knot and keep the makeshift bandages in place, but the motion is not without a soft chuckle of amusement coming from your savior beside you.

“I see you’re not so much of a crybaby anymore,” he says, tone gentle yet prodding in a way you hadn’t heard for a long time. It almost makes your chest hurt a little. “You’d be sobbing at so much as a scratch back then.”

“Well,” you huff, unsure whether to be annoyed or grateful, but eventually deciding on a soft sense of regret. “Everyone has to grow up eventually. After you left the orphanage, it…”

The words trail off. Neither of you try to pick them back up.

Instead, Nicholas simply leans back against the wall, eyes gazing across the dusty room that the two of you had taken shelter within. A sandstorm whipped outside, with winds so strong it made the door rattle and shake.

“…At least the windows are properly sealed,” he murmurs, halfway to himself. You nod silently in agreement and stare down at the bandage wrapped around your leg. Though the bullet missed major arteries and the caliber wasn’t that large, it still hurt like a fire twisting itself around your bones.

Eventually, you lean back against the wall beside him, idly watching as he tugs out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lights it in one quick motion. The man takes a long, slow drag from it, then pulls it from his lips and holds it in front of you with a smirk.

The urge to swipe at his hand is almost innate, but so is Nicholas’ motion to pull the cigarette back towards him.

“That is a horrible habit to have.”

“And so is breathing in lungfuls of sand every time there’s a wind,” he flicks soft ashes to the floor, “so honestly I think smoking is the least of my worries right now. Everyone’s got a vice.”

“That’s not true!”

The man’s eyes flick towards you from behind his glasses with a lazy gaze amidst a cocky smile that, for a moment, mirrored the memory of a young boy who likened to smoke raw witflax from hollowed out bones and try to hide it from the caretakers.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that you never hoarded every stuffed toy you came across?”

You narrow your eyes and restrain the need to shove him.

“That’s not the same at all.”

“A vice doesn’t have to be drugs, you know,” he shrugs and flicks the ashes from the end of his cigarette again. “Just something that makes someone a little less miserable on this hellhole. Alcohol, wealth, sex—or exactly twenty-two toys and trinkets kept beneath a loose board under your bed.”

There’s a moment of shock that passes through your mind, but it quickly fades into reluctant acceptance. “Of course you knew about that,” you murmur, heat gently building up across your cheeks. “Listen, we were kids and I just… enjoyed having things I didn’t need to share with anyone.”

“I’m not judging you,” Nicholas says, tone surprisingly stern and soft. “Just pointing out the similarity is all.”

“There is still no similarity between collecting trinkets as a child and chain-smoking through an entire pack of cigarettes in less than a day. It’s already making you look older—you’re gonna start getting wrinkles soon, you know.”

As if to spite you, the man tosses away the stub he’d smoked through and grabs a second from his jacket pocket, then lights it without pause. He takes another long drag from the cigarette and turns his head to offer you a smirk.

“Well lets just see what kills me first; the desert or the smoking.”

It’s meant as a joke. You know that it’s meant as a joke, a jest, just something to prod you like how he would when the two of you were kids. But there’s just something about the notion of losing Nicholas for a second time that just….

You reach out and grab his sleeve before you can stop your mind from asserting the motion. Like a scared child, clutching onto his jacket with an expression that must have looked dire.

“Please don’t say things like that,” you murmur, barely able to meet his eyes. “It’s not funny.”

He’s silent for a few moments. At first you wonder if he’s going to push your hand away—after all, it’s been so long since the two of you had last seen one another, he could have been a different person entirely than the one you once knew. But instead of pushing you away, he slowly reaches his free arm around your shoulders and tugs you against his side.

“I’m not gonna die,” Wolfwood murmurs, breathing in one last puff of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and watching the embers slowly die away.

“…You promise?”

There’s a few seconds of silence. Then two soft, unsure words.

“I promise.”

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood #wolfwood drabble #drabble #sfw #sfw drabble #writing #the true secret of any writer for a series completely going off the script from established content: making shit up

242 notes · View notes

virgoilluminati · 11 months

Text

Belongings

Chapter 9 (part 2): “Do you think I’m cool too, or am I too into you?”

(Series Masterlist)

A/N: Part 2, is here, your welcome!!! I have spent all day on this fic and I am so happy it’s finished. The more I write about these two the more I am so grateful I decided to write fanfics again. By far, my best chapter to date. Too many things are unpacked here (hahaha). Love you all - V ❣️

Warnings: Angsty, smutty but not really. FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFY 💕

Word Count: 3.2k

“Good Morning Harry.” Y/N whispers excitedly, pulling him for a warm embrace before marching over to the windows, and letting the warm sunshine touch her face.

She was wearing very little, only a borrowed shirt of Harry’s which covered her boobs and the waistline of her bum. The rest was open for the world too see. Immediately feeling protective of her, Harry quickly moves over consuming her in a hug, his back faced against the window, so no one could get a peak at what was his.

"Good morning, dove.” Harry replied with a smile, returning the embrace. He watched Y/N as she moved towards the windows, her face illuminated by the soft rays of the morning sun. Her excitement was infectious, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment in her presence.

Joining her by the window, Harry leaned against the frame and enjoyed the view together. The world outside seemed to come alive with vibrant colors and gentle sounds. The warmth of the sun on their skin brought a comforting feeling of serenity.

As Y/N basked in the sunlight, Harry couldn't help but admire her. Her joy radiated from within, and it was evident in the way she embraced every moment. He felt fortunate to share these simple but beautiful moments with her. “Your so pretty,” He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch tender and affectionate.

Together, they stood in silent harmony, soaking up the morning sun, and embracing the beauty of the world around them. It was a moment that reminded them of the simple pleasures that could be found in everyday life and the love they shared.

“Dove? I like it.” Y/N smiles at the new nickname, knowing it made both their hearts flutter with the knowledge that they had new nicknames for each other.

Harry grinned, his eyes lighting up at Y/N's response. He had chosen the nickname "Dove" for her because it symbolized peace, purity, and love – qualities that he saw in her every day. Hearing her express her fondness for it filled his heart with joy.

"I'm glad you like it, Dove," Harry said, his voice filled with warmth. "It just felt right, you know? Like it perfectly captures your gentle spirit and the way you bring calmness into my life." He brushed his thumb lightly across her cheek, his touch soft and affectionate.

Y/N's smile widened, and her eyes shimmered with happiness. She loved how Harry always found unique ways to express his love and affection. The new nickname held a special significance between them, a secret language that deepened their connection.

"Your such a softie" Y/N replied, her voice filled with tenderness. "I’m glad though. Never felt this way for anyone before."

Harry's heart fluttered at her words, his love for her growing stronger with each passing moment. He cherished the intimacy they shared, the way they could create their own beautiful moments and symbols of their love.

Leaning in, Harry pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead. "You’ve always been my dove y’know. My source of peace and sanctity. Just never told you till’ now.” He admits, his hand rested on her waist.

“Always? Harry - how long.” Y/N asked this time filled with both curiosity and guilt. A part of her felt like she had been distracted and dishonest, unable to truly see Harry’s feelings for so long.

Harry noticed the mixture of curiosity and guilt in Y/N's eyes as she questioned him. He understood the weight of her emotions and the self-reflection she was going through. Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes with a reassuring gaze.

“A while, tha’s all-.” He lied, not wanting to tell her that he fell for her the minute he had met her.

As Y/N listened to Harry's response, a part of her sensed that he wasn't revealing the full truth. She noticed a hint of hesitation in his voice and the way his eyes flickered momentarily. Despite her curiosity, she didn't push further, respecting his decision to keep his feelings to himself.

She let out a huge sigh before checking the time realising that their train would be arriving in the next couple of hours. “I wish we could just stay like this forever. And never have to face the music.”

Harry's heart ached with understanding as he sensed Y/N's yearning for an eternal moment of peace and togetherness. He knew that the real world would inevitably encroach upon their idyllic bubble, and they would have to face the responsibilities and challenges that awaited them. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it gently, offering her a comforting reassurance. “We can-.”

“Harry we can’t, I’ve got the bakery to get back too, you’ve got interviews and all of that jazz.”

“That jazz.” He laughs, mocking y/ns ignorance to fame, it was one of the many things he loved about her. He pulled her in for a kiss before she could panic anymore, taking her breath away

As their lips met, time seemed to stand still for a moment. The kiss was passionate and filled with a mix of longing and love. Harry's arms wrapped around y/n, pulling her closer to him, while her heart raced in her chest.

“How about, we stay till the weekend? That’s only another 2 days. Your dad won’t mind having the store for a bit longer, and I’ll personally assist you once we are back to get stock up to date-.”

“Harry- “ When they finally pulled away, y/n's breath was slightly shaky. She looked into Harry's eyes, a mix of emotions swirling within her. "I... I can't just drop everything, Harry," she whispered, her voice filled with a hint of regret.

Harry's smile softened, understanding her predicament. "I know, love. I didn't mean to pressure you. I just... I can't help but want to be with you, even if it's just for a little while. Please, dove. There’s so much more we haven’t explored yet. I’m sure this hotel won’t mind us staying another couple of nights. And we can finally be just us for a couple more days, tha’s all I ask, and then once we are ready, we go back and tell Will.”

“Alright, Mr Styles. You’ve persuaded me.” Y/N hums, pulling him in for another kiss.

As y/n's words hung in the air, a surge of joy filled Harry's heart. He couldn't help but break into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with delight. The second kiss they shared was even more passionate than before, as if the weight of their decision had lifted, leaving only a sense of exhilaration and anticipation.

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around y/n, savoring the taste of her lips. The world around them seemed to fade away once again, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own little bubble of affection.

As y/n basked in the blissful moment, a nagging doubt tugged at the corners of her mind. It whispered words of caution, reminding her of the responsibilities and complications she would face by embarking on this uncertain path.

**************

“You ready to be a tourist for the day?” Harry asks placing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He had put gel in his hair, and had on a classic white shirt, alongside blue cargos, giving very match, tourist dad vibes.

Y/n chuckled at Harry's playful transformation into a tourist dad. She looked at him, taking in the sight of his gel-styled hair and his choice of clothing that exuded a relaxed, vacation-ready vibe. "You certainly look the part, Harry," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

As Y/N turns around, her hair tied up in a ponytail, whilst she wore a pair of high waisted shorts, and a blue blouse, which sat on top of her chest just right. Harry has to admire her beauty, even in natural light. Harry's gaze lingered on y/n, his heart swelling with affection as he took in her effortless beauty. The way her hair was tied up in a ponytail showcased her lovely features, and the choice of her outfit highlighted her curves in all the right places. He couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for having someone so stunning by his side.

She glanced down at her phone which had clearly been on her mind the whole time, causing Harry to be concerned. “What is it?-“

“It’s nothin’”

“What is it?”

“My dad, he- he’s asking how much the bakery rent is, but I thought I paid the bills last week.” Y/n sighed softly, her eyes flickering with a mix of worry and hesitation. She looked up at Harry, her voice tinged with unease.

“Perhaps he’s just trying to get ahead so he can pay for it?”

“Mmm, maybe. It’s this wedding, the money, it’s been stressing him out the whole time. I told him, I didn’t need him to buy anything, that I would speak to Wills family, and get rid of the expensive stuff, but - he insisted, wanted it to be the perfect day,” y/n admits tearfully.

She explains to Harry how everything about the wedding, was supposed to be perfectly organised by her dad, as a thank you for everything she had done for him. But in the process this also meant he was willing to pay too much for a wedding, which would never be perfect. No matter how much he was able to pay.

Y/n's voice softened as she spoke, her eyes filled with nostalgia as she recounted the cherished memories associated with the bakery. "The bakery holds so much meaning for me, Harry. It's not just a business; it's my home, my sanctuary. It's where my parents met, where their love story began. I've grown up hearing stories of how my dad accidentally spilled custard on my mom, and instead of being upset, she laughed and helped him clean it up. It's where they found out they would be having me, their little miracle."

A wistful smile played on her lips as she continued, her voice filled with affection. "Those family memories mean everything to me. One day, I want my own family to be there.”

“That’s where I met you, remember?”

She smiles softly, reminiscing to the long haired Harry, who for months, came in only asking for iced buns. She always found him rather handsome, but it was only when he had attempted to strike up a conversation at Wills, then 18th birthday party, that she found him an interesting soul to be around.

“Y’know. Deep down. I always knew we’d be here together.”

“Did you?”

“Mmhm. We’d be here. Holding onto each other - as the world moves slowly behind us,” he responds pulling her in for a hug.

The couple stay like that for a moment, before realising that whatever was happening at the bakery, was currently out of their control. And after a rather long conversation about the bills, y/n told her father to use her savings if needed, and to not worry about the rent until she was back. The couple knew the world was beginning to move much faster than before, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up with them. Separating them once again.

**************

“Where do we go first? “Harry asks, his hand linked with y/n as they make their way down Trafalgar Square. Y/N shrugs unsure of what there was to do.

As Harry and Y/N strolled through Trafalgar Square, Harry couldn't help but notice a bright red tour bus waiting nearby. His mischievous side took over as he looked at Y/N with a playful grin. "I have an idea. Let's hop on that tour bus and see London from a different perspective."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Harry's spontaneous suggestion. "Are you sure about this? We could explore on our own."

Harry chuckled, his hand gently squeezing Y/N's. "Trust me, love. It'll be fun. Besides, I know a thing or two about these iconic landmarks, and I can give you my own personal tour."

Y/N couldn't resist Harry's infectious enthusiasm, and with a nod, they both made their way towards the waiting tour bus. Despite the chilly weather, they climbed to the top deck, finding a seat with a perfect view.

As the bus began to move, Harry wrapped his arm around Y/N, pulling them closer to keep warm. The wind tousled their hair, but the excitement in their hearts kept them warm. They snuggled together, their eyes scanning the cityscape as they passed by one famous landmark after another.

Harry pointed out each place with a mix of pride and amusement, whispering little anecdotes and stories in Y/N's ear. With his vast knowledge and charming wit, he transformed the tour into a captivating adventure.

"Over there, you see the Houses of Parliament," Harry said, his voice filled with excitement. "I remember once being inside for a charity event. Quite surreal, I must say. And that bridge, the one and only Tower Bridge. I crossed it during the London Olympics torch relay. One of the most nerve-wracking and exhilarating experiences of my life."

“You liar. You’d never be trusted with the torch,” Y/N listened intently before laughing captivated by Harry's tales and the way his eyes sparkled with fond memories, both false and truthful.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.” He responds before placing a hand over y/ns shoulder as tour bus continued its journey, taking them past Buckingham Palace, St. Paul's Cathedral, and other iconic landmarks that supposedly held special significance for Harry.

“Did you know. I was actually swapped at birth, I am the real prince harry.”

“Your my prince.” Y/N responds, pulling him in for a soft kiss, stopping him for a moment. Before going back to being a performer for the day.

***************

“Harry, let’s take a photo.”

Excited about capturing a special moment with Harry, Y/N pulled out their phone and looked around for the perfect spot to take a selfie. Spotting the iconic red telephone box next to Big Ben, they knew it would make a fantastic backdrop. However, their plans were quickly disrupted as fans began to recognize Harry on the streets.

“Oh shit-.”

Before Y/N could even position themselves for the selfie, a fan approached Harry, requesting a photo. Harry, always gracious with his fans, obliged and posed for the picture. Y/N smiled at the fan's kindness, appreciating their enthusiasm for Harry's talent.

“Would you two like me to take a photo?,”

Seizing the opportunity, the fan offered to take a photo of Harry and Y/N together. Y/N gratefully accepted, handing over their phone to the fan, who skillfully framed the shot. With a quick thank you, Y/N and Harry stood side by side, smiling for the camera.

However, as more fans started to gather and the excitement grew, Y/N realized that it might not be the best time to linger around. They thanked the fan once again for the photo and hurriedly made their way onto a tour bus.

The mob of fans had become restless and consistent, with more people recognizing Harry and joining the group. Y/N didn't want to attract too much attention or cause any disruption, so they decided it would be best to retreat to the safety of the bus.

As they stepped back onto the bus, Y/N let out a relieved sigh. She turned to Harry with a mixture of excitement and relief, showing him the selfie she had managed to capture amidst the chaos.

“I look horrendous.” He laughs, gesturing to his face which had not been ready for the photo. Y/N laughed before mimicking his face.

“Hmm. Well I think I’ll keep this. For old times sake, of course-.” She said sarcastically, placing her phone back in her pocket.

“As long as you don’t give it to Mitch, or bribe me with it when I’m old-” Harry responds, laughing, his heart full with the memory just created. It might not have been the serene and planned moment they had envisioned, but it was a memory they would cherish, capturing a brief glimpse of their time together in the bustling streets of London.

The more time Harry spent with y/n the more he realised how perfect she was for him. Not only was she physically beautiful (and admittedly out of his league) but she also possessed patience and kindness which would help her to deal with the continuous pressure of being in the public eye. She didn’t seem to let the fame of Harry get to her, and despite the crowds of fan girls who stood outside the bus screaming his name. She seemed content, knowing that he was hers and not needing to fight away the numerous fan girls. Which had driven people away before.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more then to finally admit his true feelings, that not only did he like her, but he was in love with her. And always had been, but he worried not only was it tricky, but given the circumstances of their relationship, to already admit he wanted to marry her and create a family with her, was probably too soon.

“What?” Y/N asks, seeing him begin to daydream.

“Nothin,”

“Nah, what Harry-.”

“Your just so unbelievably out of my league. I cannot understand how I managed to get you-.”

“Your kidding.” Y/N laughs, before gesturing to the thousands of fans which had now queued to get onto the top of the bus. “Your Harry, Fuckin’, Styles - how am I out of your league?”

Harry gazed at Y/N, a mixture of adoration and sincerity in his eyes. He reached out to gently cup Y/N's face, his thumb tracing their cheekbone. "No, love, you don't understand. It's not about fame or popularity. It's about the incredible person you are, the way you make me feel, and the way you see me beyond all of that. If I explained everything, we’d never leave this bus, but believe me y’are.”

As the tour bus pulled away, Y/N looked back at the crowd of fans, realizing the incredible impact Harry's presence had on people. They couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and sympathy for Harry, knowing that moments of privacy and tranquility could sometimes be hard to come by.

Together, Harry and Y/N settled back into their seats, continuing their tour of London from the safety of the bus, cherishing the few stolen moments they had managed to capture amidst the fervor of the city.

*****************

As Harry and Y/N sat on the tour bus, listening to the conductor drone on about the history of London, Harry couldn't help but feel a growing sense of annoyance. He glanced around at the other guests, their expressions ranging from mild interest to sheer boredom. Harry leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "I bet I could give a better tour than this guy."

Y/N chuckled softly, intrigued by the mischievous glint in Harry's eyes. "Oh, really? Well, show me what you've got, Mr. Styles."

Harry grinned and cleared his throat, adopting a slightly exaggerated British accent. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Harry Styles London Experience. Now, if you look to your right, you'll see one of the most iconic landmarks of this fine city—the Big Ben. It's not just a clock, my friends, it's a time traveler's best friend. Trust me, I've been late enough times to know."

Y/N burst into laughter, unable to contain their amusement at Harry's impromptu tour guide skills. As the bus continued its journey through the city, Harry continued to point out moments and places that held personal significance for him.

"And now, folks, we have arrived at Downing Street," Harry announced as the bus stopped outside the famous address. The official tour guide began explaining the roles of the government, but Harry had a different story to share. He leaned closer to Y/N, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You know, once upon a time, I had a little adventure right here. Met David Cameron, the Prime Minister at the time. It was all very official, but then we decided to do something spontaneous." Harry's eyes sparkled with mischief as he recalled the memory.

"We ended up filming a music video for 'One Way or Another' right here on Downing Street. It was quite the experience, let me tell you. We had a blast, and I think David secretly enjoyed it too," Harry shared, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

Y/N couldn't help but imagine the scene, picturing Harry and David Cameron dancing and singing on the steps of Downing Street. The thought brought a smile to her face.

As the tour bus continued its journey, Harry continued to sprinkle his own anecdotes and personal connections into the tour, making the experience truly unique for Y/N. Together, they enjoyed their own little adventure through the streets of London, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

******************

“Y/N, if I get on the London eye. I might spew.I hate heights.” Harry complains, Y/N looks at him coyly pretending to be understanding until she screams:

“Stop being a massive baby.”

Harry looked at Y/N with a mixture of amusement and feigned offense. "A massive baby, am I? Well, fine then. If it means that much to you, I'll conquer my fear of heights just this once."

Y/N grinned triumphantly, their playful banter continuing as they made their way towards the London Eye. Harry's unease was evident in the way he clenched his fists and took deep breaths, attempting to steady himself.

As the giant wheel ascended, Y/N could sense the nervousness emanating from Harry. They reached out and gently took his hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You've got this, Harry. I'll be right here with you."

The view from the top was breathtaking, with the city sprawled out below them. As they admired the sight, Y/N turned to Harry, a curious look in their eyes. "So, Harry, earlier today you mentioned that you've liked me for a while. How long is 'a while' exactly?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly, realizing that Y/N had seen through his attempt to downplay his feelings. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering honestly. "Honestly, from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt something. It was like a spark, an instant connection that I couldn't explain."

He smiled softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "And from that moment on, it only grew stronger. Every time we spent together, every conversation, every smile—I couldn't help but fall deeper. You have this incredible way of making me feel seen and understood. It's like you complete a part of me I didn't even know was missing."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with warmth and affection as they absorbed Harry's heartfelt words. "Harry, I had no idea. I’m sorry I never knew. I just presumed you were happy, you were always with other girls. And well, I was always with Will even before we were together.”

Harry leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Y/N's forehead. "You remember Wills bday party, when he asked you to speak to him. That’s when I knew I had to hide my feelings. I couldn’t get you hurt, and I thought you were happy-.”

“But Harry, he never had the talk with me.”

“He didn’t? But after that moment -“

“He didn’t leave me alone for the next two years. Practically came to the bakery every day asking just to see me. First I thought it was nice. That someone was interested in me, but then he came all the time. It actually became rather annoying. “

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was during your breakup with one direction. I didn’t want to be a burden. You looked genuinely disheartened and I hated feeling like I was responsible for anything that upset you- besides Will and I did end up together anyways. I presumed you’d moved on, given the amount of girls you were seen out with and I thought I would too-. I do love Will. Just not- just not the same way I love you.”

Harry's eyes widened as he listened to Y/N's revelation, his heart skipping a beat. He reached out, gently cupping her face, his voice filled with a mix of surprise, regret, and anger . He paused for a moment, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions. "I was lost after the breakup, trying to figure out who I was outside of the band. And yes, I went out with other girls, trying to distract myself, but none of it felt right. None of them compared to what I felt for you."

Harry's gaze held a sense of longing and vulnerability as he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I had lost my chance, that you had moved on with Will. I convinced myself that I needed to move on too.”

“Guess we both misread things.” Y/N laughed slightly as a tear left her eyes. In all honestly whilst she was frustrated that she had let so many years gone, trying to fall for someone who she did not love. She was happy that now they had finally made their way back to each other.

Harry wiped away Y/N's tear gently, his voice filled with tenderness. "Yes, we did misread things, didn't we? But sometimes, life has its own way of guiding us back to where we truly belong. And now, here we are, finding our way back to each other." He held Y/N's hand tightly, a small smile forming on his lips.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic rec #one direction #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles x y/n #harrystylesxreader #harry styles x reader #harrystyles cute #harry house #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff

66 notes · View notes

keeponquinning · 1 year

Text

Two of Hearts — masterlist

Eddie Munson x fem!reader // Steve Harrington x fem!reader

"You had...a very powerful love, with Eddie Munson. A chance encounter during your shift at the dive bar you work at and the rest was history. With your shared love of music, you two had big dreams for the future, chasing your passions together. You were going to marry him, you both just knew it. He was working on graduating so you could both start your dreams together, but then, those dreams burnt to dust amongst the chaos of Eddie being a wanted man for a murder he didn't commit and Dustin Henderson looked at you with tears in his eyes and Eddie...not with him. Now, you're alone, trying to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and those around you. Your dreams of being a singer seeming secondary to just surviving without him. To try and carry on, cling to the person you are with a fractured heart that once beat so hard and warm for that sweet long haired boy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Some days are tolerable, some are tough as nails, though you have help around you. At least you have Steve Harrington who takes the time to check in on you, a promise he agreed to, before the love of your life drew his last breath. His company is a comfort to you, in the two years after the madness had settled in Hawkins and brought back the quiet. It was a comfort that you needed more than you thought you did, and Steve? He just wants to be there for you, to catch you when you fall, but maybe there's more to that than either of you will tell yourselves..."

warnings — 18+ so MINORS, GET!!! This is going to be angsty, fluffy, and smutty. Big on the angst.

notes — set after the series, Vecna is dead, all of that is done, because I'll leave all that to the duffers, I just wanna write people grieving and healing and being messy about it. Eddie x reader will be told through flashbacks, Steve x reader in present time. Enjoy!

like this post to be added to the tag list if it interests!

#— words come masterlists #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #fics — two of hearts

32 notes · View notes

sillygooseassociation · 1 year

Note

Oooo how about some "only one bed" scenario headcanons? Fluffy, smutty, or angsty your choice :)

-thisismysecondrodeo

oooo yes yes yes thank you babe @thisismysecondrodeo

the team would be traveling for an away game and you're connected to the team, like an assistant coach taking nate's spot or an athletic trainer. something along those lines and there's a mixup at the hotel, your room that you were supposed to share with keeley was never reserved. she has it easy, she just sleeps in roy's room but you don't really know what to do, every room in the hotel is full.

ted INSTANTLY offers his room to you, beard happened to invite jane to that match so he can't stay with his best friend. he offers to sleep on the bus so you can have privacy. you think he's joking and just laugh at him but he just says it again. you tell him he's absurd and that you're fine sleeping on the couch while he takes bed. he disagrees, telling you he'll take the couch.

turns out both of you are wrong because there is no couch. ted offers to sleep in the bathtub and you tell him to shut up. it was late by the time y'all got to the hotel so it was time for bed. he offers the bathroom to you first and you take the quickest shower of your life. by the time you come out, ted is changed and ready for bed. he turns to you and feels like all of his midwestern manners have disappeared, you are in a team t-shirt and sleep shorts, your nipples pebbling through the cloth after exiting your hot shower.

ted clears his throat and literally throws himself into the bed as an escape. you get in on the other side, turning off your lamp, putting the two of you in complete darkness. "um, do you want me to put a pillow up as a wall in between us, Y/N" "no Ted, I'm fine, I promise. there are a lot worse people to be sharing a bed with."

"wow, what a glowing review". even in the darkness, you feel like you can see his bright smile while teasing you. "fine ted, you want me to say that this is the best sleep of my life because i'm radically in love with you like victoria and david beckham?" you hadn't even realize what you said until it was too late.

ted felt the air leave his lungs. sure you two always had a flirting banter, he was head over heels for you, and roy and keeley both swore it was mutual. but you actually said it, even if as a joke. "honestly? yeah, i do."

ted's response was so quiet you almost missed it. but you're so glad you didn't. "ted, this is the best sleep of my life...because i'm absolutely hopelessly and radically in love with you like victoria and david beckham.

neither you nor ted say anything, just laying in the beautiful silent air of confession, though your hands soon gravitate towards each other, both of you falling asleep with intertwined fingers. you wake up in the morning with your head on ted's chest and his arms around you. you were right, it was the best sleep of your life.

#headcannon night!#send them in!#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #blurb #tedssweaters blurb

64 notes · View notes

blackmambaboobs · 2 years

Note

Hi! You write really good!

Um, could we please have some sniper stuck in a "there was only one bed/sleeping bag" situation with Reader, his non-merc crush?

Laughs evilly as I rub my little, fat hands together like a Fly Also, didn't know if you wanted headcanons or a fic', so Imma go with a fic'!! And thank you!! You're so kind!! I decided to make this fluffy (and kinda angsty) instead of smutty this time! :>

After Party

Everyone happily drank their alcohol as cheers were shouted into the air. You were a bit tired though and looking over at Sniper next to you, seemed to be more mentally tired than physically. You Guys decided to have a party after a lot of hard work. You worked as a bartender, and it wasn't as exhausting as the work that the other Guys did, but you felt thankful that they invited you anyways. Putting your drink down on the table, you walk over to Sniper, a little sway to your hips as he looks up at you from his drink, a tired expression on his face. Poor Guy, you thought. "Hey," you said softly with a smile. "'ey, Mate," he replies with a smile of his own. He takes a drink and sets the glass on the table behind him. "Enjoyin' the party?" He asks. "Yeah, but I'm tired, I don't know how everyone else still has energy!" You say, shrugging. He snorts, clearly amused. "Agreed, I'm not a huge fan of big parties." You hum in acknowledgement. An awkward silence takes over between you two and you clear your throat. "I'm gonna go back to our room to get some rest, wanna join me?" You ask, pointing behind you. He nods with a grunt. You all had a room, two people in each of them. As far as you knew, they should have two beds in them for each person.

They don't have two beds, at least not for you and Sniper. You look at the one bed that sat in the middle of the room with an embarrassed expression on your face. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Sniper doesn't seem to have much of a reaction as he walks over to the bed and picks up a note that had been left there.

"Yo Snipes! Thought we'd help you out with Y/N! -Scout"

"That explains it," Sniper mutters to himself as a growl escapes his throat. "W-What is it?" You ask, trying to ignore your racing heart. "Uh, they didn't have enough beds for everyone," he lies, his cheeks red as he throws the note away. "A-Ah, I see." You reply, your thoughts racing at what to do. "Don't worry, I'll take the floor, you take the bed." Sniper states as he grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed. "No, I'll sleep on the floor, you need the bed more than me!" You say, placing a hand on his arm without a second thought. Sniper stiffens as his thoughts turn to mush. He wasn't used to you being so close. Did you always smell this good? "Sniper?" You question, stopping Sniper's thoughts. "Yeah? Sorry, uh, was thinking for a sec'," he says, trying to keep his composure. "We can... share the bed if you like?" You ask, wanting to smack yourself right as the words came out of your mouth. Sniper was thankful you couldn't see his scarlet face because of his hat. "U-Uh," he spurts out, "yeah, we could do that." He places the blanket and pillow back on the bed, fixing it so it was comfortable for you.

You can't help but stare at Sniper's back as he tried to sleep. You wanted to trace the line going down it and to rub his shoulder blades to release the tension in them. "Oi, I can feel ya' looking at me, somethin' wrong?" Sniper asks, stopping your thoughts. "O-Oh, um, just thinking is all," you say, cringing at how your lie sounded unsure. "I know you're lyin', Mate," Sniper says as he turns over to face you, causing your heart to pound and your face to heat up. "What's wrong?" He asks, his facial expression showing concern. You sit up against the headboard and rub the back of your neck nervously. Sniper gives you a worried look and sits up. You can't help but stare at the scars and stitches on his chest. "'ey, eyes up here, Love," Sniper says, amusement in his voice. You look away at the window next to you, gulping. "Um, I," you start, trying to find the words that are scattered in your brain. Sniper simply raises a brow, waiting for you to continue. You sigh, you were tired of being scared. "I... I like you... Romantically, I mean!" You blurt out, immediately covering your mouth with your hand as if that would make the words go back in. Sniper's eyes are wide as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You? Liking him? He must've been dreaming! "S-Sniper? Are you okay?" You finally break the silence with your voice. He blinks a few times, as if he was trying to remember how to function properly. "You don't have to lie to me, Love." He says, with such a sad voice that makes your heart break. "I'm not lying!" You say sternly, giving him an offended expression. He stares into your eyes, his own heart racing. You're not lying, he can tell just by reading you.

"Why?" Is all he asks. "W-Why me?" "What do you mean?" You question, confused. "Why do you like me, there's nothin' special about me, unlike the others..." He says, looking away as he rubs the back of his neck. You huff. You're annoyed now, not at him, but at the fact he sees himself that way. "Why?" You ask. "Well, I can list multiple things as to why I like you..." And you do, you list everything that you like about him, from his kind heart to his voice even to his weird habits that others would find concerning. He's left speechless, his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest as he stares at you. You watch as his shoulders relax and a lovey-dovey smile appears on his face. "Jesus Christ, Love, just gotta make me turn into mush, yeah?" He says, snorting with a red tint to his cheeks. He gently facepalms, trying to hide his smile with his hand as he looks at you. "Does that mean, y-you like me too?" You ask with wide eyes, feeling like you might explode out of nervousness. "I wouldn't be smilin' like an Idiot if I didn't like you too, Mate," Sniper says and you waste no time, pouncing on him and wrapping yourself around him like a Koala. You nuzzle your head under your chin as he chuckles with genuine happiness. "Might need to start calling you 'Koala' instead."

You lay together, wrapped around each other and with smiles on your faces as the crickets chirp outside.

Sniper's gonna need to thank the Guys for this.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 #x reader #reader insert #estrella writes #estrella answers #awesome anon #anon #fluff #kinda angsty?

71 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 1 year

Note

Hey hey!

I'm a huge fan of yours and just wanted to stop by and compliment you and your works. You have an amazing talent that I wish I possessed! I admire you honestly, I want to get good at writing in the way you are. I really enjoy your content and the ideas you have, I just went through the most recent posts (From two days ago to like weeks ago) and still reread all of them. The way you use your words makes me just djbdhdhd Y'know?

Anywayyyy! On a side note, I want to mention I'm apart of the Karasu fanclub and Micheal simp. I also seriously enjoy yandere Barbatos (It's and unhealthy obsession at this point).

Hope you have a good night/day/afternoon/whatever freaking time you read this lol.

~ FROM, Anon ⚰️❤️

⚰️ ANON MAKING ME SPEECHLESS

Seriously though, it makes me SUPER HAPPY that my writing brings you even a small bit of joy (or fluffy feelings, or smutty feelings, or angsty feelings depending on what you like to read lol). I appreciate all the kind comments and anons that take the time to share their thoughts with me. 💙💙💙💙

#jes.replies #jes.⚰️ anon

5 notes · View notes

ohnomybreadsticks · 5 months

Text

Ao3 WIP Tag Game!

I was tagged by @itshype - thank you for including me in your tag list <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 160! Which is an absolutely wild number to think about, tbqh

2. What's your AO3 word count? 917,682, although some of those aren't mine due to some of my longest works being shared RPs I posted

3. What fandoms do you write for? I have works mostly posted for Detroit: Become Human and the Witcher Netflix, but I've written a few for others, like Transistor and LotR. And now I have 2 that are original works!

4. What are your Top 5 Fics by Kudos?

Starting with most kudos:

1) More Than Enough (Witcher, E)

2) Alike in Both the Heart and Mind (DBH, E)

3) What's It Going to Take for You to Feel Good? (DBH, E)

4) Too Tired to Ask, but Not to Receive (Witcher)

5) In Which Gavin Learns to Love an Elder God (DBH)

shocker lmao, almost all of these prominently feature smutty sections!

5. Do you respond to comments? Always! If a reader has made a comment, I'll make sure to reply, even if it's just to say 'thank you' :) It just might take me a while to get to it sometimes

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? There Are No Atheists in Foxholes (DBH, E)! Can't get much more angsty than MCD lmao (altho does it count if he comes back in like 300 years?)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I am a fluffy gal usually lmao, almost all of my fics have happy sappy endings!

8. Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully no, I've never gotten any hate on my fics. Very grateful for that, but I'm very much not afraid of the block button.

9. Do you write smut? LOL I've written my fair share. I've got 41 E rated fics on AO3, and 17 M rated fics, so that's a decent amount of the spice. Lately though I haven't been feeling that vibe as much, so much so that the last bit of smut I wrote was quite difficult!

10. Do you write cross-overs? Mmmmmm not sure if I've written a traditional crossover, where characters from both franchises interacted... But I popped some Witcher characters into a LotR setting, and some DBH characters into a Witcher setting at some point!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, but I've had podfic made of my fic, which was incredibly flattering <3

12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Yep, several times.

13. What is a WIP you would like to finish but doubt you ever will? Mmmm...I don't tend to abandon WIPs, even if it takes me a long time to return. The few chaptered fics that are 'unfinished' on AO3 are the only ones I'll never return to

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? I could never pick while I was in the trenches lmao, and now that I've been kind of out of my fandoms for a while I don't have an opinion either XD

15. What are you writing strengths? Folks always tell me my descriptions are engaging, which makes me happy because that's something I work very hard on. I hope my characters and their relationships are a strength as well

16. What are your writing weaknesses? Probably niche-ness lmao. I love to create a hyper-specific scenario that only I enjoy, so it doesn't reach any kind of audience. I also know I'm very bad at writing action sequences, which is why I never write them lmao

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'm not a fan, tbh. Unless it's a language you're really familiar with, the chances of getting it wrong are too high. And the clunkiness of putting it in the fic makes it...oof.

18. First fandom you wrote for? For my own sanity I'll pass on this one lmao. My first AO3 fic was most certainly DBH

19. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Also hard to choose...Privately I'm very fond of Let Me In (i'll be good to you, i swear) - any of my prairie-based fics hold a special place in my heart

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day? Hard question - right now I'd have to say none! I'm very much a 'when it's done it's done' girlie

Tagging: @catoeirienind @sinclairsolutions but no pressure <3

#bready blabs #tag game

1 note · View note

zoyalannister · 1 year

Text

My friend's ACOTAR upcoming fanfic

Hi all, I am here copying and pasting a message from my friend and beta who wants to share more about her ACOTAR fanfic. Here she is:

Hello, hello, hello! Nice being able to interact with you directly, and not through screenshots shared in a Whatsapp chat. Maybe this will lead me to reactivate my Tumblr account. (Actually, I don't know whether I should hope so or not…) But enough of my blabbering. I'm here to pitch you a new story I'm working on, this time in the ACOTAR fandom. With the working title of Addicted To You (yes, like the Avicii song), this nine-chapter minilong, set about a year after A Court of Silver Flames, is a Nessian-centric narrative that's going to end with their mating ceremony (and, perhaps, a different and, shall we say, peculiar sex scene…) In true SJM-Nessian fashion, Addicted To You is going to be fluffy, smutty, and maaaybe a little bit angsty. If you allow me a little spoiler or two, I can also tell you that:

Velaris has a sex shop;

Emerie is going to play a semi-important role;

Two characters we met in ACOWAR are coming back for a storyline related to Emerie;

I'm slandering Madja. A lot. Because she needs her Hippocratic Oath and her medical license revoked.

As of now, I've written chapers one and two entirely, a good chunk of chapter three, and two big scenes of chapter five. The following snippets are in the aforementioned order.

“Wait, slow down a bit,” Nesta says, trying to make sense of everything that’s just been dumped over her head. She splays her hands in front of her, as though to physically stop the other females from hitting her with yet another tidbit of unrequited information. “Rewind. Helion designs sex toys?”

“It was meant to feel,” Nesta begins, taking pity on him for a moment and leaving a proprietary caress down his back that has him keening, “like a service your mate decides to gift you, one night after a long day of training, when she’s found herself in possession of a massage oil.”

“You know, Rhysand should truly consider hiring you as courtier, if this is how you normally speak.” He rolls his shoulders, flinching. “How you corner people into doing what you want.” “I just know when to pick my battles. And when I do pick one, I know how to fight it.”

“What the fuck does Rhysand want now?” “Apparently,” Cassian says, lowering his chin to her shoulder, “he needs our opinion on the precise color of the drapes.” Nesta turns her head so she can raise an eyebrow at him. “The precise color of the drapes?” “Oh, yes,” Cassian confirms with a chuckle. “He’s torn, and I quote, between peach, dusty rose, and pale mauve.”

“Oh, love…” She starts kissing down his spine, running her hands along the juncture of his wings and back, feeling the muscles and ligaments and tendons under her fingertips. “I’m going to play with you however I damn well like.”

And, this is all I have to say for now. Let me know if you'd be interested in reading this lil' thing!

#ACOTAR #ACOSF #Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #fanfic #nessian fanfiction #ao3 #author talks

1 note · View note

imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

Text

Stork Song ❤️ (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss. Request: Spencer and reader decide to get pregnant after suffering a miscarriage. It can be angsty, fluffy, smutty. I'd just love to read it. A/N: Instead of trying to get pregnant again, they enjoy sex without the pressure. I don’t specify whether they have a successful pregnancy, so you are free to imagine while knowing that they will still be happy either way! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst/Comfort, Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Angst with a very happy ending, miscarriage, trouble conceiving, potential infertility, crying, yelling (brief), grief, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, vague references to divorce (does not happen) Word Count: 4.3k

MASTERLIST

When you want something so badly, you start to see it everywhere. The unattainable seems almost inevitable; the cruel mistress of fate tugs at your heartstrings and makes you hope for what may never come.

It’d been two weeks since my pregnancy tests started showing one line again. The initial pain of the distinct lack of pink, however, was nothing compared to the suffering that followed. The absolutely agony that was canceling my doctor appointment, the devastation of having to inform my husband that it’d happened for the third time.

Spencer had never been anything but supportive and hopeful. I’d eventually had the heart, or perhaps experienced enough exhaustion, to explain that his constant optimism when it came to this particular topic was anything but helpful. But as I sat on the couch with a foot of space between us, I realized that I’d missed it. The silence had not been the alternative that I’d dreamed it to be.

My husband accepted my embrace the second it was even suggested. His arms wrapped around me hastily, and before I knew it, I had fallen back to what we used to be. Pretty peach lips were softer than I’d remembered, but still just as sweet. I allowed myself to get lost in them — if just for a moment. To soak in the intoxicating scent of him without worry for what impact such indulgence might have on the future.

It was irresponsible. Foolishly idyllic, but not at all regrettable.

But when his lips finally slipped away, Spencer kept his eyes closed. I listened to heavy breathing that almost felt unfamiliar when it was not tainted with tears.

“I want you,” he whispered in the most saturnine way.

I wished I’d had a better response. I wished I could have shared his obvious desire and longing. I wished that I wanted to connect with him as badly as he clearly craved. But among the oceans of apathy and shame, the only thing I could think to say were two questions.

“What? Why?”

Spencer’s fingers tangled in the hair at the base of my neck, and he pulled me forward like the questions had caused him physical pain. Pressing our foreheads together like it might transfer something beyond words, he only managed to say a few before his voice started to give out.

“Because you’re my wife,” he paused before taking in a deep breath and continuing with much more force than before, “and I love you.”

“But Spencer...”

He knew it was coming. I could feel the disappointment of rejection already starting to wash over him. He was already almost completely gone, his body turned away from me again as he dropped his head into his hands.

“There’s no reason for us to do that today,” I finished, nonetheless.

“Bullshit!”

I jumped at the sound, the force behind the words frightening me with their vitriol and sheer volume. Almost immediately, Spencer withered back. His body still shook from the aftershocks, but his tone was more appropriate, if not more solemn, as he explained, “I just gave you the only reason that matters.”

When the curse finally caught up to me, though, there was no taking it back. Slowly, my body broke down in the same ways his had until we were both weeping, together but alone on the first piece of furniture we’d bought together.

The sound of my tears quickly came to be too much for him. That time, his hands were incomparably gentle as they slowly led me back to him.

“Come here,” he said as softly as he could, “I’m sorry for yelling. I know how hard this has been for you, I just…”

Each word felt like a punch to an empty gut. A reminder of the repeated string of negative outcomes that felt all-encompassing. I wanted to let that darkness consume me in the hope that when that last bit of hope abandoned me, I might be able to find something worth loving in the abyss.

“I love you,” he begged to his empty shell of a wife, “That’s the only reason I care about.”

“I love you, too.”

It had been true. Through it all, I had never lost even the tiniest amount of love for him. I never blamed him for what felt like a failure. I tried not to blame myself, either. But at some point, I’d started wondering if I was only doing that for him, too.

The truth was so much simpler than how it felt. It was so much easier to just tell the truth and hear it on my tongue.

“I’m just so scared.”

“Me too,” he said through trembling lips. My husband slowly smoothed his hands over my hair in an attempt to soothe the inconsolable. I hated to admit that it still felt nice.

“You’re not alone. I promise you,” he whispered from some place so far and yet so close.

With palms coming to rest on my jaw, Spencer waited until my eyes opened before he began to wipe away fresh tears. He looked at me with a promise for something I couldn’t place.

“Do you understand me?” he asked.

I wanted to say no, but I nodded yes. He caught the lie immediately. I’d hoped it would make him give up, but he only became more determined to break through the self-loathing.

“You aren’t ever alone,” he repeated, and I felt the knots reform in my stomach. I felt my heart beat harder as it tried to believe him through the pain. Even as he continued with words that I desperately needed to hear but couldn’t handle just yet.

“You aren’t empty,” he said with a tenderness that made me ache. “You aren’t broken.”

I tried to speak, to tell him that he was wrong, but all that came out was a desperate wail. The collapse of whatever strength I had left, all my soul bared in his open arms.

“It’s all my fault.”

He held me tighter as if that would stop me from feeling his tears on the back of my neck.

“No, it’s not. It’s not your fault,” he swore to me for the third time. I wondered if I’d ever be able to believe him. I wondered how he would ever be able to hold me without missing what could have been.

My husband squeezed me like I was the only thing keeping him together. He held me together much the same.

“You didn’t fail, and neither did they,” he whispered.

For once, I listened.

“You were both perfect exactly as you were.”

He didn’t stop me when I cried. Spencer remained eternally patient. He soothed my sorrows with nothing but gentleness and love. I forced myself not to think of how it would make him a great father. Instead, I closed my eyes and decided to be selfish for once in my life.

“I can’t do it tonight,” I said through the sniffles. “I just… can’t.”

“That’s alright.”

He made it impossible not to believe him. He punctuated the thought with a hard kiss against my forehead. The kind that lingered for days on rainy days.

I looked up at him and saw myself in tear-stained cheeks and enough grief to drown in. Enough love to suffocate under.

“Let’s go to bed,” he offered.

So that’s what we did. We laid together in a marital bed, almost too scared to even hold hands lest it leave us mourning yet again.

But when he reached a hand out to me, I took it. We clung to that lifeline and prayed that it would carry us back to shore.

Despite the vows and assurances to the contrary, marriage is a funny, fickle thing.

So often when people speak about marriage, they choose to talk about the palatable parts of it. Even at our most honest, we fail to accurately explain just how easy it is for the impenetrable to shatter into more pieces than it started with.

When Spencer and I got married, we both were aware of how it could all go wrong. That was why we’d made each other a bit of an unconventional promise before we ever even made our way down the aisle.

We had promised each other that if we ever found that it was more painful than pleasurable to be in each other’s company, we would admit that it was over. We would be able to part ways as amicably as possible, knowing that we were doing what was best for the both of us.

I hadn’t thought about the conversation again until the night that Spencer took me out to dinner at a place we used to frequent once a week. As the small LED candlelight flickered and danced over hazel flecks, I recalled the conversation for the first time in years.

I said nothing about the silent calculations rolling through my mind, and if my husband noticed, he hadn’t said anything, either. Logically, I knew he had to have noticed the shift in my behavior. But I hoped that his hopeful wishing would get in the way.

Throughout the dinner, I forced myself not to forget the question. In fact, I asked myself the question over and over until I finally realized that I had never stopped to consider my answer.

Am I happy?

The question hung at the forefront of my mind. I could see it scrawled across his knitted brow and still saturnine smile. I heard it in the soft pattering of rain against the windshield. The gentle rumbling of the asphalt beneath slow moving wheels while we both dragged out the inevitable return.

Spencer didn’t ask me if we could stay in the same bed that night, but I knew he’d wanted to. As we walked into the house, I realized that I’d wanted him to ask. Not because it would show that he still wanted me or that he was willing to fight for me — I wanted him to ask me because for the first time in a long time, I’d wanted more than anything to answer yes.

But when you want something badly enough, it’s terrifying to admit it. Even to yourself. The expectations and the potential for disappointment were insurmountable and devastating.

So, when we walked into the house and settled down our belongings, I didn’t say what I’d wanted to. I killed the silence with a pleasantry I’d meant to sound more genuine than it did.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight. It feels like it’s been so long since we did something like that.”

Despite my perceived failure, however, Spencer smiled. And although I’d immediately written it off as a product of his being socially awkward, I knew that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was that he didn’t need me to be perfect to understand me. Our relationship had never hinged on things like arbitrary social rules, intonation, or perfect dialect. The truth was that my husband knew me.

That was why he didn’t hesitate to come closer. His hand took mine the moment that I set my purse down. Gently, he pulled me against him and waited for my body to get used to the warmth.

“Believe it or not, your husband is occasionally capable of spontaneity,” he grumbled playfully.

I took in a deep breath that smelled like Spencer and sweet wine, and I found a smile where I could’ve sworn there were none. My face darted up eagerly to meet his, hoping that he would catch sight of curved lips and creased eyelids before they disappeared again.

“I do not believe it,” I admitted with a laugh. “I bet you’ve been planning it for weeks.”

He feigned offense at first, but the show was ruined by a chuckle.

“Guilty as charged,” he sighed.

When the laughter ended, our embrace remained. We both sort of stumbled when we’d realized how our hands had no idea what to do. Something that used to come so naturally to us seemed stunted and awkward in a way I’d never wanted it to be.

I could see that Spencer was going to let me go, even though neither of us wanted him to. If anything, I’d wanted him to hold me harder.

In a bold, unexpected burst of emotion that threatened to spill from my eyes otherwise, I closed the space between us. I kissed him without letting myself think about the implications or consequences. I drowned in the bittersweet taste of his lips that still opened for me without hesitation.

My stomach twisted into knots — no, butterflies — when he kissed me back. Our hands tangled in each other’s hair and our mouths refused to relent. We swayed together in the darkness, not caring when I’d practically shoved him into the table where we’d set our things. Even when they fell to the ground, we only barely broke our lips apart.

He glanced down at the mess on the floor, but I got the feeling he was really just too afraid to look at me.

But I wanted him to.

“Spencer?”

And he did.

He cleared his throat, and when it did nothing, he tried to swallow the lump that had formed. He looked at me and smiled at what he saw. With more confidence then, he answered my call.

“Yes?”

I paused before I said anything else. Not because I was unsure about what I wanted, but because I knew that it would change everything. I’d paused because I needed to see him in that moment so that I would recognize him when it all shifted.

I twisted brown curls around my finger and I bit down on tingling lips that still remembered the way he felt. Goosebumps rolled over my skin in anticipation that I saw blossoming the same in his eyes.

“Take me to bed,” I whispered. I’d wanted to be serious about it, but the request sounded so juvenile that giggles were sure to follow. Laughter that only got worse as Spencer’s jaw dropped and his hands clutched at the fabric of my shirt hard enough to wrinkle it.

“Really?!” he squeaked.

It made my answer even easier.

“Yes,” I begged.

Of all the things I’d expected him to do, a fireman’s carry had been the least of them. But sure enough, as soon as I’d uttered the single syllable, my feet left the floor. Any breath that survived being hoisted over his shoulder was lost immediately in a fit of raucous laughter and shrieking. The noise hadn’t dissuaded him in the slightest. As carefully and quickly as he could, he took off in the direction of our bedroom and didn’t once look back.

When we did finally make it to the bedroom, he dropped me onto the bed. I’d barely had time for the bouncing to end before he was on top of me again, crashing our lips together despite not being able to breathe from the trip over.

While my hands worked diligently at removing his shirt’s stubborn buttons, his did the same for mine. Each time that we had to separate, we came back with more fervor. When there was no clothing left, our hands wandered the familiar landscape that it hadn’t felt in so long.

Part of me wanted to not think about what we were doing. But the rest of me, the parts hidden behind the walls that I’d built around my heart, knew that I had to let him in. I had to let myself feel the joy that came from his tongue leaving traces of his kisses down my neck. I had to feel the slight twinge of pain the first time that his finger pressed against the tight, resistant muscles.

Most of all, I had to feel the way that my body gave into him with almost no convincing. The way my legs parted to make room for his hand, and my back arched so that our stomachs could meet in the middle.

Spencer paused there, with one hand between my legs and the other trembling as he braced himself and lowered to kiss me once more. I drowned in the eager taste of his affection for as long as I could. But there was no stopping the moan when his finger finally gathered enough wetness to enter me without the pain.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he whispered between kisses against my cheek. “I’ll take care of you. You’re okay.”

The words immediately brought tears to my eyes. They swelled and fell so quickly that I hadn’t even had time to think about them before he was kissing my cheeks dry again. Then, contradicting his apparent desire not to see me cry, Spencer said the one thing that was sure to make the tears fall faster.

“I love you,” he said as if it were the simplest conclusion in the world. “I love you so much.”

The words, so commonplace but so unexpected, caused a visceral, whole-body reaction. My legs wrapped around his hips and my arms wound around his shoulders until he couldn’t fight gravity any longer. But even when he collapsed against me, his fingers continued to work my entrance. In fact, he moved faster with each moan he elicited.

“I love you,” I responded as soon as I trusted myself to speak. I tried to say his name, too, but I was cut off by his hungry lips.

He kissed me hard enough that I sank into the pillow. I was so enveloped by him that I barely registered that his hands had left until he replaced them with something else. I gasped at the heat. I closed my eyes and I tried to take in a deep breath to stop the world from crashing around me.

“Look at me.”

I opened my eyes, but the tears obscured his face too much. Like staring through stained glass, I saw the light of his eyes. It granted me the courage to blink away the blurriness until I could see his smile.

It was so vulnerable. So scared, but so willing.

“It’s okay,” he reassured me. “I love you so much.”

And like a lovesick fool, I believed him. I even smiled and nodded, begging him to continue and grant me the catharsis I hadn’t felt in months. It took my body a little bit of time to catch up, but with each inch that entered me, the freer I’d felt. It kept going until I felt like there was no space between us. Nothing kept us apart but slick skin and trembling muscles.

“Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Although it was the opposite of what he’d suggested, Spencer didn’t seem to mind when I clung tighter to him. In an oxymoronic way, I had done exactly what he’d asked. I had thrown myself into his arms and trusted that he wouldn’t let me fall.

His thrusts were careful and practiced. We had danced this dance a thousand times before, but it felt new somehow. It felt familiar, too. Something about the way our chests slid against one another as they shook from sobs of pleasure rather than pain.

There was no worrying about what might happen. No ovulation tracker, no basal temperature, no abstaining from alcohol. Instead, we panted with wine-laden breath between feverish kisses that left no room for anything else.

For that simple, quiet moment, it was just us. Two people madly in love, fighting through the grief and the muck until we found each other amongst the wreckage.

No, I corrected myself.

I am not wreckage.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered in perfect tandem with my thoughts. His thrusts became harder, his voice more insistent as our tears mixed and dripped down my jaw. “You are all I will ever need.”

My nails dug into his back, not out of anger, but out of desperation. I embedded myself in his skin and reminded myself that there was already so much keeping us together. We were not fast unraveling thread. We were not jagged broken pieces.

We were not tragedy. We were whole.

I felt his body moving with mine. I memorized the way we came apart reluctantly, forever chasing those moments where we were together. I opened my hands, palms facing up and fingers spread to make room for his. And although his hands hurt from the force with which he held them, I still didn’t dare tell him to let go.

Together we hurt, and together we found a way to heal.

“Please, I want to…” he whispered breathlessly into my ear.

I knew what he was asking. I heard the fear threaded through each word, and I sought to extinguish the pain.

“Can I—”

“Please, Spencer,” I answered before he had to finish the thought. Then, in a radical moment of defiance against the grief, I said something he deserved to hear.

“It’s okay, Spencer. I’ve got you.”

Just like that, all the weight of thousands of words unsaid fell from him at once. Emboldened by the relief, he thrust me one more time with bruising force. He held me there, too, sobbing with the pleasure of the relief and the knowing that I’d felt it, too. My muscles tensed around him and fluttered as our heartbeats harmonized in the darkness.

The familiar warmth no longer felt scorching. It wasn’t heavy, but light as it dripped back down. I let it go. I didn’t allow myself to stress about the way he stirred inside of me again.

We both needed the freedom of not thinking about it. So, we didn’t. There were no pillows propping up my hips, no stressful forced orgasm in the aftershocks. I didn’t pray to the gods for it to work this time.

Instead, I reached out in the darkness to find him again. I whined until my husband heard my call and crawled back into messy sheets with me. I didn’t cry when he handed me a wet towel, and I was happy to take steps to sleep more comfortably.

Which meant that I was all too happy for his arms to make their way around me again. I even dared to giggle when he used them to pull me closer. And when our noses bumped against one another, I was the one to dart forward to land a chaste kiss on his lips.

I had no way of knowing that it would make red-lined eyes fill again, but it did. Still, Spencer smiled and shook his head as he raised a trembling hand to wipe the tears away.

“Thank you,” he said when he was hidden behind his hand. When he didn’t have to look me in the eyes as he admitted to his own perceived failures.

“I… I missed you so much,” he sobbed. Each word warbled from those same stained glass tears I knew so well. Without looking at me, he forced himself to continue, “I know I’m not the best husband in the world, and when it comes to words, I can be so stupid.”

I couldn’t stand not seeing him. It had felt like ages since the last time before that night, and I had no intentions of returning to that empty, loveless void. I guided his hand away from his face, bringing it instead to my lips. I pressed gentle kisses against soft, tear-stained skin.

“You’re not stupid, Spencer,” I tried to reassure him.

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight me. He just let me lay praise the only way I knew how. He watched the way his palm against my cheek made me shiver and sigh, and he smiled, too.

“I just needed you to feel it,” he explained through quivering lips, “I needed you to know how much I love you, no matter what.”

Without hesitation, I gave him the confirmation he needed.

“I felt it,” I promised.

Spencer only barely missed his own hand when he tried to kiss me. The kiss tasted like saline and sweet wine, but I didn’t care. We couldn’t breathe through stuffy noses, so we kissed until we broke apart with heaving chests and a burning pain in empty lungs.

Then, after a brief pause, I sought the same comfort that I’d offered him.

“I hope you felt it, too,” I whispered.

So vulnerable, so ready for the pain that wouldn’t follow.

Instead, all my husband said was an overjoyed, honest, “I always do.”

We both closed our eyes, taking in deep breaths and feeling the chill of each other’s hot breath on wet cheeks.

I opened my eyes first. For once, I was glad and not resentful to see the peace on my husband’s face. I watched him slowly drift off to sleep without any warning, and I found myself smiling.

There, in our bed, where I swore that I would never be able to sleep soundly again, I smiled.

Then, I asked myself one last time.

Am I happy?

Then, I let it go forever.

Because my answer was yes.

Yes, I am happy.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid self insert #imaginingafterdark

760 notes · View notes