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bisexualiteaa · 7 days

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Make-Up Sex

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Rough sex, riding, Cooper getting tied up, p in v, p0rn w/o plot, irradiated cream pie x2, mention of needles, cursing, established relationship, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from show

AN: I’m really enjoying writing for asks! Thank you to those who have submitted any, my ask box is always open so feel free to send in more! I will do my best to get to them as I can, and to the Anon who asked for this one, I hope I did your ask justice! Enjoy our favorite cowboy getting tied up and railed. Save a horse, ride a cowboy y’all. 🤠 apologies if it seems rushed, I wrote it at like 2am and post this on my way to work 😭

Synopsis: Cooper Howard is one stubborn man, and after a while of getting on your nerves, you finally find a way to make him apologize.

He had been getting on your nerves all day. First instance was when you two were out scavenging after finishing a bounty hunt, your supplies were running a bit low after being out for three whole days longer than you’d anticipated. You were getting ready to shoot one of the bandits that managed to get a stray bullet to graze your cheek when he killed them before you could even get a chance. You evil eyed him as he said “ain’t fun havin’ your kills stolen from ya, is it sweetheart?” He asked, making you roll your eyes and give a groan as you sifted through the raider’s pockets for anything useful. No such luck. A whole three bottle caps, and a plastic fork. So you drug your feet as you both carried on towards home.

Second instance was when you both were surprised by some radroaches and radscorpions after opening the door to what looked to be a vacant rest stop to get supplies from. A few wasted bits of ammo later, you make it inside and he made fun of your screams for a whole two hours. “Ain’t afraid of raiders, needles, nothin’ but bugs” he would say as he’d laugh so hard he’d go into a coughing fit while your face burned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he’d use his inhaler.

The third instance was where you drew the line. He was sifting through his bag trying to find his canteen of water after not finding shit at the rest stop. “Motherfucker” he said to himself, upon not being able to find it or anything really to have to drink. So instead of asking, he just went into your bag when you were busy trying to scavenge more bodies, took yours and drank it dry without telling you, and you had at least three more hours on foot until you made it back to the settlement. So when you went to go get a drink of water, the horror and plain rage on your face when you felt that it was empty was immeasurable. “How in the fuck is this thing empty? I JUST filled it yesterday!” You said, turning to look at Cooper as you both walked and the look on his face was all you needed as an answer. “You drank all o’ my water? What ‘n the hell happened to your canteen?” You asked, your southern drawl becoming more evident the angrier you got. “Must’ve forgot it” he said, making you look at him like he just spoke a whole different language. “You forgot it?” you asked, wondering how in the hell the deadliest motherfucker in this wasteland was traveling with you and just forgot his water. “Oh you gotta be shittin’ me….You know what, I don’t even wanna know how you managed that. We’re almost back to the settlement, I’ll refill it when we get there” you said angrily, moving ahead of him a little to prove that he’d pulled the last straw on your patience.

When you made it back to your settlement and back to the place you called home, you organized all the supplies you’d gotten, (which wasn’t much) putting them where they all were supposed to go, refilling canteens of water, and changing into more comfortable clothes as night began to fall. It was around dinner time that Cooper finally noticed that he really managed to piss you off.

You’d hardly ever given Cooper the cold shoulder in the time you two had been together, he was married before so he wasn’t ignorant to what being given the cold shoulder meant, but Cooper Howard was a stubborn man, one set in his ways so when he feels there’s no need to do something, he will not do it. “You gonna sit here ‘n ignore me all night?” He asked, and all you did was cross your arms in response, making him shake his head. “I’ll take that as a yes, but we’ll see how long that lasts, ya always come around somehow” he said arrogantly, only adding fuel to the fire and he knew it, it’s just how he was. He was an asshole, he was when you met him and apparently that charm never fully left. He was partly right however which is what you didn’t want to give him credit for. Even when you were really mad at him, you always came around at some point. His mouth got him into a lot of trouble, but it also managed to get him out of it too, his charisma and smooth talking always landing with some kisses to open you back up or make up sex to help you forget. You never were the kind of girl to let good dick sway you out of being mad but it was attached to a man that cared about you in ways no one else ever did, so you supposed he was at least a good exception. “You’ll come ‘round when that ache sets in, when you realize your dainty lil’ fingers can’t do anything close to what mine do to you” he said by your ear as he stood up from the dining room table, working you up and trying to get you to sleep with him to forget about your anger, but just as he was stubborn, you were just as set in your ways too. Though he knew it was a tough decision for you, you’d both gone a whole two weeks out there in the wastelands collecting caps from bounties and scavenging for supplies without any time or a means to sneak away and be with one another, so you were both pent up and he knew it. It was half the reason for your attitude to begin with, although you supposed he likely knew that too.

You got up from the chair in the kitchen a few minutes after he moved to the bedroom, getting ready for bed. You stopped him as he’d just taken his boots off, finally ready to be on speaking terms again but they were your terms. “Here’s how this is gon’ work. You, are gonna lay on that bed, and let me fuck you like I hate you because right now, I am doing everythin’ in my power not to hate you, and you ain’t been makin’ that an easy feat” you said, your eyes looking straight into his as if you were staring right into his soul, if he still even had one. “Yeah? And what makes you think I’m just gonna let you get away with that, lil’ lady?” He asked in a condescending tone, making you chuckle. “Because I know damn well you’re as pent up as I am, so if you want any, and wanna get back into my good graces, this is how it’s gonna happen. And I will accept that as an apology for the shit you’ve done” you replied as you stepped closer, not caring that you had to look up at him when you spoke, the venom in your words was enough to prove the point you were trying to make. Your response making him huff a short, dry chuckle, impressed by how well you stood your ground, so he awaited your orders. “Now take your damn clothes off” you said, making him grin as he did as he was told, he could get used to you bossing him around like this. Your accent got a little thicker when you were mad, and the way you barked orders and told him what to do with a quip ready for whatever he had to say in response, he had to admit was a side of you he liked seeing more than he’d ever admit to. He shook his duster from his shoulders, then worked at his shirt as you pulled yours off and over your head, then moved to unclasp your bra and dispose of it on the floor, not caring where it went. Your eyes raked each other’s frame with almost visible tension as you stood a few feet apart from each other. Enough space to keep him from using his hands to get you to submit, but enough to also allow you to close the gap when you felt comfortable enough to. You both worked at undoing your pants, tossing them aside to be forgotten about until morning. “Get on the bed” you ordered, leaving the room to grab his rope from his saddlebag in the kitchen. When you returned, he noticed the item in your hands, giving you a wicked grin. “Gonna tie me up, sweetheart?” He asked in that condescending tone, making you chuckle as you tied his hands to the rungs of the bed frame nice and tight. Tight enough to keep him in place, not too tight to hurt too much, he was an asshole sure but he was still your asshole. “Sure am. Gonna need to earn the right back t’ touch me, and you ain’t earned it yet” you replied, straddling his lap as you ground your slick pussy against his cock. He gave a groan at the feel of you, watching as your hips moved against his to coat him in slick for when you’d line him up to your entrance. Key word there was when because you wanted to make this torturous. You moaned as you bucked your hips against him, his head bumping your clit as you used him for your own pleasure. “Think I could use you just like this. Mmm…make myself cum then leave you here achin’ for more” you threatened, running your hands along your figure and toying with your breast to tease him extra, hearing groans leave him each time your pussy would glide along his cock. “Now that ain’t very nice of you” he replied, making you grin. “Never said nothin’ ‘bout playin’ nice sugar. Still waitin’ for you to say you’re sorry” you responded, making him grunt as you continued to play with yourself and moan all sweetly. “I ain’t apologizin’, no need to” he said, making you click your tongue. “A shame, looks like you ain’t cummin’ tonight then” you said, continuing your movements as you got closer and closer to letting that knot snap inside you. He wanted- no he *needed* to feel your gummy walls wrapped around his cock, so the fact that you were using it in a way that couldn’t afford him that, was already working his nerves.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what I’m givin’ you? Should be thankful I’m even touchin’ you with how mad you made me” you said, going a little quicker now with your movements so he tried focusing on that, focusing on the way your clit would bump that spot right under his tip over and over. So when you came from grinding against it rather than seating on it and *ruined*that chance of still getting to finish, he gave a disgruntled grunt.

“Aww what’s the matter? Did I stop somethin’?” You asked in a deeper, condescending tone that had his dick throbbing in need. He’d never seen this evil of a side of you before, but you had only just started. “Whatchya want Cooper? Go ‘head, tell me” you said, making him grunt. “Want you t’ shut up and ride me already” he said, making you chuckle before landing a harsh slap across his face, the sound of your hand meeting his cheek rang through the room. “You ain’t in the position to be givin’ orders sugar. I thought you had manners” you said as he turned and looked back at you, astonished one by the power behind that smack and two, by the tone you were getting with him. “I’ll ask you one more time, what’dya want me to do to you, hmm?” You asked, and knowing now what power you had behind just one of those smaller hands of yours, he relented. “Ride me, please” he grunted, making you smile and lay a soft kiss to his cheek to try and soothe where you slapped him. “See? Not so bad now is it? Now if ya just apologize, I’ll take some RadAway and let you cum” you said, and judging by the look on his face, you could say that wasn’t going to happen. “Fuck you” he spat, making you chuckle. “Oh I am gonna fuck you, don’t you worry” you said as you lined him up to your entrance, sinking down on him inch by torturous inch. You were having way too much fun with this, and he didn’t like that he couldn’t have his way for a change. His hips involuntarily bucked up to try and shove more of himself into your tight cunt, but you moved to where it wouldn’t happen, making him grip the bed frame where he was tied to. “Someone’s gettin’ antsy, best keep them hips steady if you want this to continue” you said, making him growl under his breath before giving a groan once you were fully seated on him. You gave a moan as his tip nudged the apex to your cervix, moving your hips back and forth to where you would get off, but not do much for him. He gave you an angry look that made you laugh. “What’s the matter honey? Ya asked me to ride you already, it’s what I’m doin’” you said, making him grit his teeth as he did his best to hold his bearings. “But I guess you were good and didn’t move after I warned you so I’ll throw a bone atchya” you said, moving up and down on him, earning a groan from him once more that mingled with the moans falling from your lips. “Fuck…” he breathed, making you chuckle and smirk in that bratty way that he wanted to fuck off your face already, but he couldn’t. Despite his expressions and reactions, he was enjoying this too much but he couldn’t let you know that.

“Mmm, Cooper…” you moaned sweetly as you bounced on his cock, his name sounded heavenly when it fell from your lips, he could hardly get enough of it. He watched as your tits bounced up and down with your movements, the way your thighs jiggled as you moved, god how he wanted to grip them so bad right now. To hold you down and buck up into you until your eyes were rolling back in your head and you were screaming, but this was your show to run. You picked up the pace a little bit, going faster and angling where his tip would brush against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside. He felt the way your walls started to close around him, sucking him in each time you’d come down, and fluttering around him. You were close. You were so caught up in chasing that feeling that you almost missed what he said. “Fuck- ‘m sorry” he spoke softly, finally apologizing to you. “What was that? I don’t think I quite heard ya there” you said, making him grunt. He should have known that you would milk the shit out of this. “I said I was- fuck- sorry” he repeated, making you hum but it wasn’t enough, not yet. So you stopped. “Sorry for what?” You asked, and he didn’t seem very happy at the fact that you stopped moving all together when he was so close to cumming yet again. “Dammit, wadn’t sayin’ sorry enough? I fuckin’ apologized like you wanted” he snapped, making you slap him across his cheek once more, this one stinging a bit more because it landed in the exact same spot as the last one. Though the tingling sensation of pain never lasted very long, it was enough to make his dick throb while inside of you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice. “Lose the attitude before I hop off and take care of myself then leave you tied up here all night” you said, making him huff in response. “Fine” he replied gruffly through gritted teeth. “Good, now I wanna hear you say it. What are you sorry for?” You asked as you started your pace back up, making him groan again as your hips and ass slapped down against him harshly. “Sorry f’ bein’ an asshole” he grunted out. “And?” You asked, needing just a little bit more before you were satisfied. “And f’ makin’ you mad” he finished, and you were content with that. “Happy?” He asked, making you hum and pretend to contemplate if you were for a minute before finally answering. “Yeah, I’ll take that” you said, placing your hands on his chest as you bounced up and down on him once more, earning a relieved sigh from him. “Just like that sweetheart, fuck…” he groaned before you leaned down, pulling him into the first kiss you’ve shared in a day and a half. You moaned into it as you started to near your peak, finally able to chase it after all the time spent putting it off to deal with his attitude. “Gonna cum- Cooper…!” you moaned into the crook of his neck and that was his undoing. You hid your face into his neck as your walls squeezed him tight, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your legs shook as his hips bucked up into you, trying to work the both of you through your high as he pumped you full.

What he wasn’t expecting was you to keep moving, earning an almost pained groan from him as you ground yourself against him. “I never gave you permission to cum inside me” you stated, apparently he wasn’t out of the dog house just yet. He was plotting how he would get you back for this on another day, how he’d wreck you and make you remember just who it is you’re doing this to. You smirked as you had the wonderful idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Perk about it bein’ a minute? I can go all night” you teased as you set that steady pace once more, needing more, needing to feel him after being so long without. His hands gripped the bed posts, white knuckled as he hissed through his teeth from the overstimulation. “You are one evil woman, ya know that?” He asked playfully, making you chuckle. “Don’t act like you don’t fuckin’ love it” you replied, and he certainly couldn’t argue with you there, not when it felt this good. “You can give me one more, can’t you sweetie?” You asked in a sickly sweet tone, using the same line he’d always use on you anytime he’d overstimulate the hell out of you just to see the faces you make and hear your moans. He recognized that line, making him grunt and groan as you moved your hips. “Fuck…” was all he could get out, mind foggy of any thoughts, just how good your walls felt as they massaged his dick. Maybe he should piss you off more often. “Look at those pretty faces, you like this, don’t you?” you asked, making him damn near whimper at your tone and he never does that shit. You gave an evil laugh at the pathetic sound. “Oh you sweet thing, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you” you said, leaning down and biting into his shoulder as you picked up the pace a little bit, earning a lewd groan from him. You laved your tongue over the spot, watching it heal instantly before sitting back up, fully seating yourself on him. You reached behind you to cup and fondle his balls, moving your hips back and forth to grind your clit against him to both work you to your end. “C’mon baby, give it to me. I can tell you’re almost there” you said, making him tilt his head back at all the feelings you were giving him, it was too much yet not enough all at once and it was torture. Your free hand came to his cheeks, pulling his head down to face you. “Eyes on me” you ordered, and his eyes looked into yours for a moment before flitting down to where your bodies were connected, giving a groan when he’d see himself disappear and reappear slightly and the way his cum was sticking to your thighs and his lower stomach. “Cooper…” you moaned softly once more, that was almost always your sign, the way you’d sigh his name so deliciously paired with your walls milking him for everything he could give you drove him mad. “Cum with me honey” you pleaded, and felt as his hips bucked up into you three or four times before you both were sent over the edge once more, a cacophony of moans slipping from both of you as he spilled inside of you and you came on his cock.

After laying there for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful after glow of your orgasms, you sat up, accidentally seating yourself fully on his dick again and he gave a pained groan. “Not again…” he whined, making you laugh as your hands came to the rope binding his wrists. “Relax, I’m just undoin’ ya. I’m mean, but not that mean” you said through giggles. “You okay though? I know I was really rough but I didn’t go too far…did I?” You asked skiddishly, a complete 180 of the attitude you had just moments ago and it made him laugh. “Wasn’t expectin’ it outta you sweetheart but I’d be a damn liar if I said I didn’t like it. I’m alright, you did good” he assured, making you relieved as you laid on top of him, littering his lips, cheeks, neck, shoulder, and chest with kisses as his hands rested on your back and hips. “I love you Coop. Even when ya piss me off, you’re still the only person in this god forsaken wasteland I could ever see myself with” you spoke, making him chuckle. “I love you too, sweetheart. ‘m sorry for makin’ you upset, wasn’t right. But I’d say you did a damn good job of puttin’ me in my place” he said, making you giggle. “No hard feelings?” You asked, looking at him with eyes that held so much worry for one person, eyes that held so much care. His hand came to the back of your head, pulling you into a loving kiss. “Never” he said into it, pressing his forehead against yours after you both parted for air. You gave a contented hum, happy for things to be all right again. “Remind me to piss you off more often, you got a good swing on ya” he said, breaking the peaceful silence with a grin, making you laugh. “Please don’t, I like moments like this so much more. I hate bein’ mad at you, love you too much” you replied, making him kiss the top of your head, wondering what he ever did to deserve someone like you.

“C’mon, let’s get ya cleaned up and get some RadAway in ya, don’t wanna ruin that perfect skin just yet” he said, making you giggle once more but it was cut off by a hiss as he moved you off from his softened dick, grabbing a wet rag and cleaning you both up as he got the IV started. He kissed your head once more, holding your hand like he always did as you got the needle in, got it all hooked up and a good flow going, coming back to sling his arm around you and hold you to him. Between the warmth of his body and the comfort of the bed, you couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter shut, a soft smile resting on your lips as you fell asleep peacefully against him. You always felt safe when you were with him, no matter where you were, and he’d always protect you no matter what. And that, is what love in post apocalypse looked like, he swore it.

#fallout smut #fallout #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

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frogserotonin · 8 days

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overthinker- lars pinfield x reader

a/n: short one bc im still in a slump rn many sorries. also sorry lawl this fic is so disconjointed and i’m really unhappy with it but whatever 😭 warnings: nothin proper i don’t think, most ooc lars to ever ooc, unedited; tell me if i've spelt smth wrong 😁

“Would you want to go out to get some lunch together on our break?” Your fingertips bounce off of the sides of your legs as you try to remain composed. You're so high-strung right now, you almost expect him to laugh in your face. Nerves and the effects of having slept a fitful two hours last night override your usually rational brain and you feel the need to just run away without receiving an answer bloom in your chest.

“I thought you usually brought lunch? If you forgot to bring some you can have some of mine, if you want.” Lars doesn’t even look up from what he’s working on, just adjusts his glasses and uses a vague jut of his elbow to point to his locker, where you know his bag is. Your heart simultaneously drops and stutters.

“Oh, it’s okay, I just felt like going out to eat, thank you though.” You try to make your words seem more upbeat than you feel, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a rejection.

“Oh. Okay then.” It must be your imagination, but his words hold a hint of disappointment. You open your mouth again, then close it, and silence re-envelopes the room. Turning, you make your way to your desk and begin to work away, dejection slumping your shoulders forward and making time drag on. When eventually the lunch break arrives, you grab your bag and rush your way out of the lab.

A squeak of shoes on the concrete floor behind you almost has you looking back, but your brain is so addled you almost believe you’ve made it up.

Like a fool, you don't talk to him when you come back, or when you leave, the time you spend alone and in silence building up an anxiety in the back of your mind. The idea that he's all too aware of your feelings, and is made uncomfortable by them and your advances overtakes you completely. That night, you stay awake, tossing and turning, over analysing every interaction you've ever had with him, trying to make sure you've not overstepped and made a complete and utter fool of yourself.

In the morning, you consider it a miracle you leave the house at all, with how tired you are. The thought of calling in sick crosses your mind, but by the time you get up your body automatically locks itself into its usual routine, and you mindlessly get dressed and make your way to the Ghostbusters facilities. Through your drowsiness, the realisation that you’re at your desk and doing absolutely nothing sets in and you jolt.

“Good morning.” If he didn’t sound so concerned, Lars would sound thoroughly amused. “You alright? Look a bit…off.” Your face flares, and you go to stand up, only to stumble and almost fall on your face. Hands out, you stabilise yourself, and then face him.

“Yeah. Morning.” You can only hope that he backs off, because his concern seems too genuine for your feelings to not expand exponentially the more he stands before you looking like he cares. “M’feeling just peachy, you?.” Belatedly, you realise your words are clearly not convincing because he doesn’t move an inch, simply studying you. He then sighs and shakes his head, chuckling a little bit, just softly under his breath, taking a couple steps closer to you.

“When’s the last time you slept?” His voice is too gentle, too un-Lars-like, that you’re almost convinced you actually did fall asleep last night, and now you’re dreaming. You open your mouth to respond, but find yourself nodding off as you do so, the last thing you process before fully passing out is the feeling of arms around your chest and shoulders.

When you come to, you sit up quickly, and slowly become aware of what had happened. Muttering cursing to yourself under your breath, you take in your surroundings, finding yourself slung over the small couch situated in the room reserved for taking time off from work briefly. Hurriedly, you rush out of the room towards where you assume Lars is working, apology already on the tip of your tongue. You approach him quickly and loudly, a fact that can be gathered from his head immediately snapping up when you enter the room. He starts to speak, no doubt to rattle off reasons why you were irresponsible and stupid for coming to work while being aware you weren’t at your fullest capacity, but you cut him off.

“God, I’m so sorry. That was humiliating, and I’m so, so sorry that it happened, it won’t happen again.” You bow your head, refusing to look him in the eye, but quickly look up again when you hear him laugh.

“It’s fine, really, you just scared me a little bit.” His smile is small, but sincere and you remember fully the reason you were in the predicament in the first place. “Are you feeling better now?”

You probably look a bit crazy with how vigorously you nod, but you barely care anymore.

“Yes, thank you so much, really, I’m sorry that it happened.” He laughs again, and it sounds like heaven.

“You don’t need to thank me or apologise,” Lars’ eyes sparkle a bit behind his glasses when he properly smiles, and you can feel warmth rush to your face. He hesitates, like he’s calculating his words, then gently says “I-uh. I care for you a lot, it really meant nothing for me to make sure you were okay.”

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters frozen empire

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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months

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didn't even need a plan

THIS IS A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR @messessentialist WHO I HAVE HAD IN MY LIFE FOR TWO MINUTES AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO HER I WOULD DIE. Short Queens rise up (on a stepladder because that's what we need to reach things)!!! I am kissin you on the mouth rn.

Rated T | 1,315 words | tags: meddling, good uncle Wayne, secret established relationship

“How do they not see it?” Dustin asked, turning away from the scene in front of them to look at Wayne.

“I don’t know, son. Sometimes smart people are dumb,” Wayne shrugged.

Their plan was in place for weeks: get Steve and Eddie in the trailer alone together, cut the power, and hope they don’t leave.

Step one was easy. All they had to do was lie to Steve about Dustin needing a ride.

Step two was a little more difficult, but only because they forgot the trailer next door was on the same breaker. Wayne bribed the owners with enough cash to go get dinner somewhere, glad that they didn’t even ask for an explanation when money was being shoved into their hands.

Step three was the problem.

Steve and Eddie hung out all the time. The problem was they never hung out alone.

Dustin watched as they walked from the living room to the kitchen, then Eddie walked down the hall to his room before rejoining Steve by the couch.

“It’s just us I think,” Eddie said.

Dustin had rigged the walkie talkie so it stayed on, his own sitting between him and Wayne on the lowest possible volume so they could hear.

“So not Upside Down, then,” Steve said, sounding relieved.

“Nope, just good old fashioned unreliable power,” Eddie sighed. “We could probably try to flip the breaker. Maybe it was just a short.”

“Yeah. Maybe we give it a few minutes first?”

Dustin smacked at Wayne’s arm, smiling.

“They’re gonna sit down!” Dustin whispered excitedly.

“Calm down. Could be that nothin’ happens,” Wayne whispered back, though he could feel his own hopes rising.

It was hard to see them through the window, but they could see shadows moving to sit on the couch.

“Something will happen. There’s no way it won’t. They almost kissed yesterday and that was with all of us around,” Dustin insisted.

“That’s what you keep sayin’,” Wayne squinted to watch.

“I really can’t believe Dustin didn’t radio to let me know he found another ride,” Steve didn’t sound angry, but he definitely didn’t sound happy.

“I didn’t even know he needed a ride.”

“Do you know who picked him up?”

“Shit,” Dustin said.

“Didn’t think that through did ya?” Wayne asked, smirk audible.

“Nah, he just left. Didn’t really question it. He does a lot of crazy shit,” Eddie explained.

“Right.”

A minute of somewhat awkward silence followed and then someone slapped their knees.

“I’ll go check the breaker? It’s the one right outside to the left?” Steve asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Dammit,” Wayne said, slowly moving away from the window and sitting down against the side of the trailer.

“Maybe he won’t be able to figure it out,” Dustin said, joining him on the ground.

“He’s definitely gonna figure it out. He’s a smart guy.”

“Who? Steve?”

Wayne looked over at Dustin, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, Steve. Why’re you surprised?”

Dustin shrugged.

“Gonna be honest, it doesn’t sound like you think much of Steve’s intelligence, son.”

Dustin’s eyes widened.

“It’s not that! He just isn’t usually quick to fix stuff.”

Wayne’s brow raised, waiting for Dustin to realize how that sounded.

They were interrupted by Eddie’s voice on the walkie.

“No luck?”

“Nope. Maybe we should try to call someone at one of the neighbor’s?” Steve responded, the sound of him sitting back on the couch barely audible.

“Maybe in a bit. Kind of nice just sitting here,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Kinda tired,” Steve admitted, the sound of cloth shifting on the couch.

Wayne stood and looked through the window, small smile taking over his face before he sat back down.

“What is it?” Dustin asked, just a bit louder than he probably should have.

“Might get what we wanted after all,” Wayne replied with a smirk.

“Really?”

“Take a look,” Wayne waved up at the window.

Dustin looked in, barely containing a childish squeal when he saw what was happening.

Steve was leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm around him, running his fingers up and down his bicep, rings glinting off the little bit of light shining through the window.

“Wayne’s out for the night if you wanna stick around,” Eddie said, softer than he had been all night, softer than he’d been to anyone else maybe ever.

“Are you asking if I’ll stay the night, Eds?” Steve’s voice filtered through the walkie, a bit crackly as if he was barely speaking above a whisper.

Dustin turned to Wayne, eyes comically wide.

Wayne just shook his head.

He had an idea of where this was going.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Been too long,” Eddie just managed to say before Wayne snapped the walkie off.

“Why’d you do that?” Dustin hissed.

“Because we’ve been played and you’re too young to be listening to what’s about to happen,” Wayne said as he stood up. “C’mon, I’ll drive ya home.”

“What?! No! We had a plan!”

“We didn’t even need the plan, bud. C’mon.”

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and started to argue when the window above them opened and Eddie spoke.

“Mind turning on the power before you go?” He asked, teeth bright white in the darkness surrounding them as he grinned.

“How did you know we were out here?” Dustin asked.

“I could hear the echo of the walkie. Plus, you think Steve didn’t already see you when he walked outside?”

“Don’t sound so smug, Ed,” Wayne laughed.

“What exactly was the grand plan?” Eddie crossed his arms over the sill. “Hope we got bored enough to make out on the couch? Maybe if we thought it was dark enough, we wouldn’t think about who we were kissing?”

“Yes!” Dustin exclaimed, though Wayne remained completely silent.

“And you didn’t think that we do that with the lights on already? Like, for months?”

Dustin sputtered out his best attempt at words, but failed miserably.

“You broke him,” Steve said from behind Eddie, smiling over his shoulder at Dustin and Wayne.

“So. Months?” Wayne asked as Dustin continued muttering incoherently to himself.

“Officially only two. But we first kissed when I was still in the hospital,” Eddie admitted, turning his head to place a kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“But. But. That was five months ago!” Dustin was pacing, kicking up dirt under his feet as he tried to figure out the timing of everything and how he could have missed the most obvious signs. “You’re never even alone that much!”

“We find ways,” Eddie said.

“I work a lot of nights still,” Wayne said to Dustin. “Why didn’t ya say anything?”

“We just wanted something for ourselves for a bit. We’re in this for the long haul and if everyone knew, we’d never find peace to just be together,” Steve said.

“But-”

“Alright, son, let’s get the power on and I’ll take ya home. These two probably want some privacy,” Wayne interrupted, squeezing his shoulder once to get his attention.

Dustin sighed.

“Fine. But you have to tell everyone soon. I can’t keep this a secret for that long.”

“Sure thing, bud,” Steve agreed before turning away from the window.

“You sure you can take him home?” Eddie asked Wayne.

“That’s the only part of the plan that’s workin’ so far, so yeah,” Wayne laughed.

Eddie nodded and waved before closing the window and following Steve.

Wayne walked over to the breaker box and flipped the switch, turning to Dustin and waving him over.

“C’mon. Don’t think we wanna be here in the next five minutes.”

“Gross. They’re like…my dads or something. That’s disgusting,” Dustin gagged as he walked to Wayne’s truck.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you’ll get a new sibling.”

“That isn’t how science works.”

“Yeah, well. We got a whole other world under our feet, kid. I think science is far out of our understanding.”

Dustin didn’t respond.

He didn’t want to even consider Wayne being right.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #ficlet #gift fic

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elsfavor1te · 1 year

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some short hc’s maybe of ellie x reader being in a MESSY situationship… constantly trying to be seen with other people to make the other jealous, late night calls, all that. love your writing 🤍

BLURRED LINES.

warnings: collegeau!ellie williams x fem!reader. messy friends with benefits situation. ellie is mentioned as being possessive and toxic but i don’t think she really acts toxic, jus a little possessive. 18+ smut! strap is mentioned, (r receiving). jealous!ellie, jealous!reader, mutual pining, fluffy ending with a bit of angst if you squint, lmk if i forgot anything!

this was fun to write, thanks for the ask anon. <333 (just realized you said short… i hope this is okay😭.

what happened between you and ellie was supposed to be a one time thing. you got high together and fucked, so what?

then one time became two.. and two turned into whenever you both felt like it. of course you both agreed not to catch feelings for the other (as if that shit ever works out).

you didn’t have feelings for her though, you don’t think. and you’re almost positive ellie doesn’t have feelings for you. she’s just—possessive and a toxic asshole.

a possessive and toxic asshole who knows how to make you needy with just a glance.

anyways as it does when anyone is in a friends with benefits relationship in the history of like forever, lines got blurred.

it started with little shit like bringing a plus one to a shitty college party that you knew she’d be at. you’d always deny it if anyone asks but you loved seeing that little glint she got in her eye when you were grinding back against someone in the middle of someone’s dingy kitchen, stepping on the occasional red solo cup.

you knew it made her jealous (if that’s the right word to use?) from the way your conversations went the next time you texted her, wanting to hook up.

‘you free tn?’

‘that bitch with the purple hair not fucking my girl well enough? come over.’

you loved when she called you her girl. it made your stomach erupt in butterflies and your mind swirl in silly ‘what ifs’.

that night when you did come over, ellie was different. not in a bad way by any means.

the way she had your ankle up by her ear as her purple strap pounded you into the mattress was nothing short of heavenly. she’d bend down to whisper in your ear, folding you like a fucking pretzel in the process. “she can’t fuck you like this, hmm?”

you would just moan, back arching into her at the new angle. you never had sex with that girl but if it kept you getting fucked like this? ellie never had to know that.

“answer my fucking question.” her hand would slap your thigh, leaving it burning before she’d soothe her hand over it.

“no- fuck,” you’d whimper, looking up at her with big glassy eyes. “just you els. no one can fuck me like you can.”

she’d be satisfied with that answer.

———

other times it’s the occasional late night facetime. you’d be up already, working on assignments because you’re never caught up.

“hey els. what’s up?” you’d speak into the phone, propping up your phone on your laptop so she could see you.

you looked a mess, messy bun, tank top hanging off of one shoulder and no bra. to ellie you were the prettiest like this— or alternatively when you had just cum and had that relaxed glow as she cleaned you both up.

“nothin, can’t sleep. wanted to call and see if you were awake too.”

your eyebrows furrow, “you always seem tired lately, you okay?”

“m’fine,” she’d laugh gently at your expression. “you worrying about me, sweet girl?”

“mm,” you hum. “just need to make sure my booty call is fully rested.”

it was your turn to laugh now at her faux shocked face. “jus kidding. you were my bestfriend before the whole sex thing of course i worry about you.”

ellie’s would swear her heart tried to jump out of her chest when you said that. “come over.”

“el, i have so much work to do before my class tomorrow.”

“bring it. no sex i promise, just me nd you like before. you can sleepover when you’re done.”

you didn’t need much convincing other than that, starting to pack your stuff into your backpack. ellie would make you stay on the phone as you walked the 3 minutes to her dorm room. she would ask if she could come pick you up instead, then you could walk back together but you denied so she had to settle for this.

———

your heart would clench painfully when she posted one of her usual photo dumps but somewhere buried in there’s a picture of her smiling with some girl kissing her cheek. she looked happy, and her cheeks were that pretty pink color. you would try and think if you ever made her smile like that.

unbeknownst to you, ellie threw that picture in just for you to see it. to throw out some feelers to see if you felt the same way as her, if you’d approach her about it. in reality that was just her friend dina, completely platonic relationship considering shes with her other friend, jesse.

what she didn’t expect was for you to ghost her for a week and a half to the point where she had to show up at your dorm. her eyes would be low and red, needing the courage in the form of weed.

when you opened the door, you’d kind of freeze, not expecting her to be on the other side.

“why are you ignoring me?”

you took notice of her high state, “you’re high.”

“no shit. i’m always high. why are you ignoring my texts?” she would step around you and into your dorm room.

“yes that’s fine, just come in.” you muttered under your breath. “i’m not ignoring you..i’m busy. you know how much i procrastinate. and you’re not always high. don’t say it like that.”

the truth was that you were scared, ridiculously so. after seeing the picture you started to wonder if ellie was out of your league, sure you’re bestfriends and sure you’re having sex but that’s it.

that lead to the realization that you wanted more. you wanted more than casual sex and the occasional hangout. you couldn’t tell her this though. being her bestfriend, you’ve seen the way she breaks hearts, you didn’t wanna be just another girl to her.

“so what? you’ve procrastinated all of your life and you’ve always atleast made the effort to tell me you’d be busy for the week so what the hell is it?”

“ellie.”

your name fell from her lips mockingly.

“can we just not? i don’t wanna talk about it.”

she sits down in your desk chair, turning it to face you and pulling you by the backs of your thighs between her legs. “did i do something?”

you look away, fearing that she may be able to look through your eyes and read your mind.

“look at me.” she’d move one of her hands from your thigh to turn your face back to her. the one hand she left on you felt as if it was burning through the material of your pants and making your stomach swirl. “you remember why you said our friendship has lasted so long? because we communicate. communicate with me, babe.”

you gazed into her attentive green eyes, gently biting on your bottom lip nervously as you debate on telling her the truth. you didn’t know if you were ready to lose your bestfriend to something as silly as catching feelings.

you go against the rationality your brain is screaming at you. “i think- i think i’m in love with you.”

your heart drops and your eyes start to well with tears when she doesn’t say anything and just kind of stares at you.

“i know— i know we said we wouldn’t catch feelings and i’m sorry.” your voice breaks. “i—“

you’re cut off by the feeling of ellie’s lips crashing onto yours. at first you’re shocked and kind of frozen in place but then you move, opening your mouth slightly for her tongue to slip in.

“you— you love me?” she asks, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

you nod gently, confused at what’s happening.

“i love you. and i can’t believe you fucking folded before i did.”

————

sidenote, this is so them. reader is blue and ellie is grey.

#mimi writes! ꕥ #mimi answers! ⚘#i loved writing this #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams fic #tlou2 #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #college ellie williams #anon #ellie williams smut #ellie williams hurt/comfort #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams drabble

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aylish91 · 5 months

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I forgot to ask this sooner, in leviathantale how would the other's react to the reader making purring/chirping noises? kinda like how the shiver does

Oh! Well, would you look at that! hehehehehehe. Nothin' but floof with them boys. (So sorry for the wait!)

~~~

Dream: He is glad to hear you make such noises. It means you are finally comfortable enough with them to let your guard down. It reminds him of trying to get Cross to open up. He is glad you are accepting yourself. He can see the changes it makes within all the others too. The future is indeed looking brighter already.

Killer: Teases. Relentlessly the first few times it happens. “What’s this? Haha! Look at that! Aren't you just a cute little cuttlefish, ain't ya?” In reality, he is secretly pleased you are starting to trust getting familiar enough to everyone to let go. He knows he can be a bit much after all. Heh heh.

Dust: Makes him smile when he thinks no one is looking. It’s cute. It helps you’re a bit… softer than the regular crew. It’s nice to know someone like that can accept a bunch of “feral” sharks…

Horror: He knew you would come around. But it is a bit of a relief. He knows all of them are scary. Even for shark mer, they can be a bit… much. It comes with the territory and who they serve. You though? You’re different. They all know it despite Nightmare’s denial. He’s just glad you have bonded enough to finally allow your familial instincts in.

Cross: He’s starting to understand why everyone made such a big deal when he started doing it around the others. There is something gratifying about it. Like he and the others did good. It makes him feel as though he can be more open and vulnerable with you.

Nightmare: Such things never really mattered to Nightmare, at least when it concerned the others of the shiver. It simply was. Even for Cross it was an inevitability. Not that he didn’t acknowledge or was grateful for their growth, it just wasn’t a… worry. It didn’t matter if they chose to bond with him or not. He was a god. Having his brother was enough. It wasn’t. But with you… He won’t admit it, but it is greatly endearing to him. You accept what is his. Accept him. It stirs something in his soul.

…Such a strange feeling…

#my writing #asks #leviathantale #dream sans #killer sans #dust sans #murder sans #horror sans #cross sans #nightmare sans #Dream: Killer is in danger! we must help him!#Nightmare: uuuuuUUUGH! fiiiiiine #Dream: Y/n #Nightmare: What happened? Where are they!?#I WILL RAISE THE OCEANS SO HELP ME IF THEY ARE HARMED!!!

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quixoticall · 3 months

Text

This Could Get Ugly Track 4: The End of the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, the reader faces the consequences of her actions and faces some hate from Robin, era-normalizes homophobia, no use of YN, wet dreams and reader being horny on main, allusions to a bi!reader, kinda voyerism?

A/N: First of all, I wanted to express all my gratitude for the love everyone has shown me and my work! It feels so wonderful to know that others are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter was so challenging but also really rewarding. Initially, this was going to be much longer and it would cover the entire rest of the tour, but I didn’t want the pacing to feel rushed so I split this into two parts so we can also delve a little deeper into the rest of the tour dates. Also, I love circa Season 3 Robin who calls people out on their shit.

wc: 5.9K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

April 11th, 1984 Cincinnati Ohio

“Hey! Hey!” You hear calls of your name from deep in the corners of the chaos that is backstage before a show. You’re too busy fighting to secure the buckle on your stupidly impractical heels to look up and instead, you listen as the voice calling your name gets closer and closer until it takes the form of the heavy pair of lace-up boots that appear in front of you. Your gaze follows the trail up the boots to the attached legs, torso, chest, and finally to the head of wild curls belonging to one Eddie Munson. “Yes?” You say primly as if this is your first time hearing him. He rolls his eyes in response, but the gesture is more teasing than anything.

“I was thinking that maybe we don’t even do a bridge in ‘Runaway with Me’. What if, instead we do one final chorus with a larger buildup?” You halt mid-shoe-struggle to glance up at him and consider his idea. “That could work,” you say, straightening out to eye level, giving yourself a break from your crouched position.

“We could build a crescendo, maybe bring in some horns like Robin’s always talking about,” you offer.

He nods excitedly, “Yeah, some horns would be sweet! We could also do some heavier synth.”

As he’s talking, he kneels and gently begins to secure the strap of your shoes for you. This gesture and others like them have recently begun to spring from the guitarist. The two of you have naturally been spending more and more time together writing and through this time spent together you’ve come to realize that Eddie is kind below all that bravado and snark. It’s a kindness you recognize, one that’s been bubbling below the surface waiting for someone to lure it out by working past his walls. As it would turn out, spending a few nights a week writing did the trick and after nearly a month, the two of you were approaching friendship.

“Thanks,” you smile, once he’s secured both shoes, “I was struggling there.”

He gives you one of those full-body shrugs you’ve come to associate with him lately and says, “It’s nothin’. Didn’t want you wrinkling your pretty dress.”

You brush off his flirtatious words as just an attempt to get under your skin. He’s still Eddie, after all.

“Maybe we should finish the song tonight, then,” you suggest, fingers smoothing out your skirt instinctively.

“And miss the afterparty? No chance. Argyle says that the club we’re going to downtown has go-go dancers.”

“Oh, right, the afterparty. I forgot,” you exclaim, unconvincingly.

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie deadpans, “you just don’t want to go.”

The other thing you’ve learned about Eddie these past few weeks is that he’s weirdly perceptive.

“I hate those parties,” you whine as the two of you amble towards the front of the stage, “I’m stuck having people gawking at me while the rest of you are off having fun.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix, why don’t you ditch the gawkers tonight and you and I can get up to some shenanigans?”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge with a raise of your eyebrow, “I don’t see how watching groupies throw themselves at you is any different than watching them throw themselves at Steve.”

“Where are these groupies that you speak of, because I promise you no one is throwing themselves at me,” he guffaws at the mere thought.

You roll your eyes, “I see you taking a different girl home every night and I wouldn’t want to mess with your batting average. Besides, people will see me with you instead of Steve and they’ll start talking.” “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my batting average is rookie-level, at best,” he fiddles with the strap on his guitar excessively before swinging it over his shoulders, “and as far as rumors go, not likely. No one in their right mind would think anyone, much less you would choose me over Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You roll your eyes at his self-deprecation. “That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself, Eddie. Also, you know Steve hates when you call him that.”

He smirks in response, “That’s exactly why I do it, princess. So, what do you say? If you come to the afterparty and we have a good time, we skip the next writing session and if you find it absolutely abhorrent, we’ll… skip the afterparty in St. Louis and buckle down to write. Deal?” *** You end up taking Eddie’s deal if anything, because you don’t want to alienate the closest thing you have to a friend right now.

Ever since Jonathan found out about his brother’s successful operation, he’s been making up for lost time, partying and drinking with Argyle every single night. Nancy’s been preoccupied with trailing behind them and making sure they don’t end up waking up in a hotel lobby fountain like they did back in D.C..

Steve, on the other hand, has withdrawn from you since Atlanta, and while he acts the part of doting boyfriend in front of the crowds and pleasant friend in front of the rest of the band, the connecting door between your hotel rooms has remained resoundingly locked. Naturally, Robin had been avoiding you too.

This is how you ended up sitting next to Eddie Munson at a seedy club somewhere in downtown Cincinnati watching girls dance in cages and listening to him argue with the bartender about which regional hot dog was the best.

From across the room, Nancy catches your eye and flashes a sheepish smile before Jonathan drags her to another corner of the room, drink in hand. Occupying a separate corner, you spot Steve and Argyle in a cloud of women and smoke downing what appears to be their thousandth shot as onlookers cheer on.

You wish it was that easy for you.

“What do you wish was that easy?” Eddie turns suddenly, angling his entire body your way.

You swallow down the embarrassment of having accidentally voiced your thoughts, if only because Eddie’s smirking at you like he knows you’ve been caught.

“You know, walking into a room and not having to worry about doing the wrong thing and immediately making everyone hate you. I wish that was easier.”

He laughs at this, a banging-on-the-table type of ordeal, and you withdraw into yourself at the flash of the callousness you had previously associated with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves, “It’s just that, you could probably spit in everyone’s face when you walk into a room while insulting their mothers and they would still love you. How could anyone not? You’ve got that thing.”

“That thing?”

“Yeah, like,” he gesticulates his arms wildly as if he could catch the words he was looking for between his fingers, “magnetism? But also endearing which is extra annoying. It shines off you, almost? Like…if the rest of the world is silver, you’re this big chunk of gold.”

He ducks his head suddenly, embarrassed and his words mean so much you nearly do the same.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say instead, and because it is Eddie, you have to add, “although, no one’s ever called me a ‘big chunk’ of anything.”

“Yeah well, someone’s got to keep you humble, right?”

You roll your eyes but even that doesn’t wipe away your smile, in fact, it only grows.

***

ROBIN: Of course, I remember that night! I spent the entire time comforting my best friend while he watched those two make eyes at each other.

It always blew my mind what she could get away with that the rest of us couldn’t. It had only been a month since she rejected Steve on the basis of wanting to keep things professional and here, she was, practically attached at the hip to Eddie—the one guy who hurt Steve the most to see her with—like it’s nothing and the rest of us have to pay the consequence! How was that fair?

***

” So, what do you say? St. Louis after party?�� Eddie quips an eyebrow as the two of you stumble down the hallway of your Ohio hotel room, many hours and drinks later.

“I don’t think so, Munson,” you say, far too resolutely for someone who is clinging to the wall.

“What? I thought you had fun! That was fun! Didn’t you have fun?”

His large brown eyes turn a bit desperate at his question. Truthfully, the night was good—not necessarily the exciting endless nights of your teenage years on the Strip—but Eddie did put effort into making it an enjoyable night for you. He kept the drinks flowing and brought you the best of Argyle’s stash of magic pills. He even got into one of the Go-Go cages after losing a drinking game and gave a truthfully hilarious performance. He was so focused on getting off the hook for writing in St. Louis that he ignored every groupie that tried to approach.

Still, you could not shake the hollowness in your heart or the weight of everyone’s attention.

Stopping at your hotel room door (at least you think it is, you’re not quite sure) you turn to put a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, for working so hard to give me a good night, I appreciate it, but we’re writing in St. Louis. We have to, we’re already behind.”

Placated by this, Eddie nods, smiling, before reaching up to grasp your wrist lightly, the one that’s resting on his shoulder.

“Well, as long as you had some fun—”

The ding of the elevator drowns out the rest of what he was going to say and the two of you jump apart in time to catch a glimpse of a very pissed-off Robin propping up a very out-of-it Steve. Eddie rushes forward, reaching for Steve’s other side, but before he can help her, Robin says, icily and resolutely, “Don’t. You’ve done enough,” causing Eddie to flinch back.

This uncharacteristic snap from Robin has left the two of you stunned, standing in place and far too drunk to know what to do so you both watch, unmoving as Robin struggles comically to get Steve down the hallway to the door next to yours.

Steve, for his part, is glassy-eyed and completely unhelpful to Robin, in fact, you’re certain he’s leaning his entire weight on her. When he makes eye contact, you smile, awkwardly and he turns completely away from your gesture.

“Shit, Steve, where’s your key?” Robin asks, patting away at his pocket in a way only intimate friends could do.

Steve shrugs dismissively in response, “Lost it,” he slurred.

His voice spurs you into action, “Here,” you gesture to Robin, “I can let you in through the inside door.”

The brass player grimaces in response, and you can see her mouth get ready to tell you to fuck off but Steve’s weight on her slight frame gets the best of her, and huffs in forced acceptance, “Fine, whatever.”

You hold the door as the two of them stumble in, a gangly, uncoordinated four-legged monster.

Eddie lingers on the other side of the doorway, Robin’s glare enough to stave him off.

The two of you share a smile, and it looks like he wants to say something but a crash in your room demands your attention.

“Thanks for the night out, Eddie,” you say partially because you must and partially because you don’t recognize the look in his eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You puncture your question with a slight tilt of your head, gesturing towards the cacophony inside.

He nods, understandingly, gulping down his words, and instead offers, “Yeah, sounds good, see you tomorrow.”

You shut the door, ready to accept whatever destruction Steve has inflicted in retaliation, you’re certain, for his broken heart. You deserved it, after all. Any other guy (and in fact, every other guy you had been with before) would’ve probably told you off angrily by now, and, as nice as Steve seemed, it was only a matter of time before he did too.

To your surprise, he is at your vanity, fumbling about with your various pots and compacts and bottles of perfume.

Robin is trying to pull him away, albeit feebly.

“Stop it, Rob,” Steve whines, slapping her grasp away, “I miss the smell.”

***

ROBIN: Pathetic. It was pathetic.

***

STEVE: No, sorry, I don’t remember that happening.

***

Robin realizes now that she is in no place to deny your offer of help so between the two of you you manage to get Steve undressed and put to bed. The already Herculean task is made even more difficult by Robin’s refusal to acknowledge you in any capacity, but it gets done.

“You know, I don’t mean to hurt him,” you mutter, pulling the duvet over Steve’s shoulders.

“Right,” Robin responds, not even looking up, “guess it’s just another one of those things you’re just naturally good at, huh?”

You sigh, frustrated. Maybe it’s the alcohol still circling through your veins, maybe it’s the need to appeal to Robin, whom you had previously had a trouble-free relationship with, but you start to talk.

“Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to be with Steve…it’s that I don’t know how.”

She turns wide-eyed to you now, “You don’t know how to have sex? They have books for that, you know.”

“No, no it’s not that,” you say, and then quieter, after making sure Steve was still passed out in his nest of pillows, “I’ve had sex before. Plenty of sex, with other people—”

“Sure, that sounds super convincing.”

“I’ve just never been in a relationship before. I don’t know how and I’m not sure if I’d be very good at it.” You divert your gaze now from Robin, blushing at your revelation.

“What do you mean? What about Jason Carver? You dated for like six months.”

You fiddle with the blanket bunched at the corner of the bed.

“No, we didn’t. Those were just lies spread by Starcourt to sell more records. I didn’t date any of those assholes. It was all set up.”

Robin lowers down to sit on the edge of the bed opposite you, by Steve’s feet.

“So, what? Everyone needs a first. Is Steve not worth trying for?”

“Of course, he is, Robin! But other people are relying on us not fucking this up and I already know that I will.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re too scared to try just because it doesn’t come easy?”

You pluck angrily at a loose thread and mutter, “You just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. I have to spend my entire life hiding who I love from the world and here you are, getting the opportunity to love someone—and not just anyone but, like, one of the best guys in the world—and have that love be celebrated by other people and instead of choosing to at least try to make it real, you’re sticking to what’s fake because that’s all you know.”

Words block your throat, and your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“I’m gonna go now,” you exhale, shakily before dashing out of the door into your own room. You wait before your certain Robin has left before letting your tears flow.

***

ROBIN: What I said was totally harsh, but I don’t regret it. She needed to hear it.

***

April 13th, 1984, St. Louis Missouri

“So, what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

Eddie wastes no time in asking as he is ushered into your current hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying your hardest to sound convincingly confused.

With his guitar case, he gestures towards the door that connects your room to Steve’s, “Every time I come over now, that door is closed.”

You shrug in response, “Dunno. He probably got bored of me.”

Eddie scoffs, unconvinced as he begins to settle on your small couch for a night of writing, “I doubt that Harrington could ever be tired of you.”

You know what he wants to hear—what’ll get him off your back.

“Well… maybe I got bored of him.”

***

STEVE: What do I remember about St. Louis? Well, for one, the hotel walls were really thin.

***

Eddie didn’t ask you about Steve after that, instead, he diverted his attention entirely to showing you all that he had written between Cincinnati and St. Louis. It was a lot. Way more than what you were used to from him. Something had changed recently with him, a crazy wave of creativity that had kicked his songwriting into overdrive. The interesting thing about it was the consistent romantic undertone in most of his songs. It made you curious about what one-night stand could’ve possibly bewitched him to the point where he was writing verses upon verses about her. You try not to think about Eddie’s possible muse too much and try to focus on being grateful for her instead.

The two of you sit on your too-small couch, bodies flush against one another at nearly every point. You lean closer to the guitarist and cheekily pluck the pen out of his hand and scribble some lyrics in his notebook.

“How am I supposed to decipher any of that chicken scratch?” he teases.

Your head snaps up from the page, with the full intention to tell him off but you’re awestruck by your proximity. You’re close enough to see the scar next to his right eye and the flecks of gold in his quickly widening pupils. That partnered with his musky scent of fir trees and tobacco leaves you gaping at him like a fish. Eddie Munson is pretty, you notice. Very much so. Sure, you weren’t so blinded by his arrogance and unpleasantness to not realize he was attractive, but before you had always seen him as hot. He was a guitar player, after all. But now, up close, knowing him, you see the softness of his face and the warmth of his eyes and it’s all quite disarming.

Realizing you had been staring for way more than could be considered appropriate, you snap backward into the farthest corner of the tiny couch putting a sliver of space between the two of you.

“My handwriting is perfectly fine,” you argue, weakly.

And just like that, the moment slips through your fingers and it’s just you and Eddie again, writing songs and teasing each other like nothing happened.

Three hours later, you are finally happy enough with the progress that was made to release Eddie back into the wild. You escort him to the door and the two of you linger in the threshold. His fingers drum against his guitar case, restlessly and he seems like he’s going to say something.

After an unusually awkward moment of silence between the two of you, you decide to move things along.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals?” you offer, rolling your ankle against the stiff, carpet floor.

In response, Eddie gulps and nods sharply, but doesn’t quite turn to walk away.

Instead, he pulls lightly at one of his curls, like you see him sometimes do while he’s deep in thought, and says something that takes you completely by surprise, “I like writing with you, you know?”

He starts walking backwards, now, eyes still on you but retreating quickly down the hall.

“I like writing with you too,” you respond, softly, too softly, but by the ear-splitting grin on Eddie’s face, you’re certain he heard.

***

You’re not sure how it started. Maybe it was because your nerves at being around Steve for the first time properly since Cinci had made you extra fidgety or maybe it was the feeling of Eddie’s heavy stare tracing the thin straps of your top that had sent a bolt of energy through you, (or maybe it was the hit you’d taken from Argyle’s stash) but you had too much energy to burn at rehearsal. You started dancing a little more than usual on stage—nothing complicated, just a little two-step here and there, maybe a twirl but, by the third song, you had noticed that Steve was beginning to mimic your movements so that the two of you moved together on stage. After that, you played around with it, a little more, not taking it too seriously, but treating it like a game of Simon Says while also trying to guess each other’s next move.

When the song ends, the two of you are a bit more out of breath than normal, but you’re smiling just the same.

“Woah, did you two plan that?” Argyle asks, in awe.

“No,” he chuckles out, “just messing around, I guess.”

“Well, whatever you were doing you should try it on stage tomorrow night, it was cute,” Nancy says decidedly from behind her keyboard.

Sheepish looks are exchanged between you and Steve, and you shrug at him.

“Sure, why not?”

***

ROBIN: There was a lot about the band that was fake, but none of that ever bled into how we were on stage. Even when things were the most difficult between us—I’m talking about when some of us couldn’t even look at each other—all that went away when we were on stage. Especially with our two lead singers. During that first tour, when Steve had confessed his feelings and she left him totally heartbroken, that didn’t affect their chemistry at all.

I remember that day in St. Louis, during rehearsal, they were messing around together, doing this silly little dance during All About You and it turns into this whole choreographed bit. We didn’t have a fancy set production or even a coordinator back then, so all the little dances they did, that was all them.

People went crazy for them, and it became a thing that people were expecting us to do.

EDDIE: Listen, I think we can both admit I was never the frontman type like Harrington—I’m too hard to swallow and my singing voice ain’t all that, plus all that attention would make me go nuts—but seeing the two of them, up there, dancing, and smiling and singing to each other like there was no one else in the room? Can’t say that was easy for me, no.

STEVE: You know, part of me started to hate performing? Well, maybe not hate, but it was difficult. The crowd would go crazy when we interacted, and the more we danced with each other, the more we shared a mic or got really close, the more the crowd cheered. So, we did those things a lot throughout the shows. And sometimes, when she would reach out and touch my face or look at me with those eyes, well, it felt real almost like we were the only two people in the room and we weren’t pretending, we were just being. And then we would get off stage and go back to being strangers.

It’s the almost having something that always hurts the most.

***

“Hey, where are you going?”

The show is over, and the crowds are long gone, and the venue is deserted. It’s late but, for most of the band, the night is just beginning. While the rest were getting ready for another night out, you were gearing up for a long night of songwriting with Eddie and were just about ready to find him and head to the hotel when he breezes by, arm wrapped around some unknown girl, without as much as a glance in your direction.

Your question catches his attention, and he stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around.

“Eddie,” you continue, “I thought we agreed we were going to write tonight.”

“Sorry, change of plans,” he tosses over his shoulder and then continues on without further explanation.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘change of plans’? We made a deal,” you charge behind him.

“Yeah, well, that was before Arabella told me about this bar downtown that—”

You don’t even let him finish.

“No offense, but I don’t give a shit about who Arabella is or what she told you, we have a deadline to meet!”

Eddie stops at this and his date, who you now realize is probably the Arabella he was referring to, takes the moment to fully glare at you. You shoot her a half-hearted shrug in place of an apology.

For his part, Eddie is regarding you like he’s thinking over a math problem or trying to figure out a particularly tricky chord progression. His expression changes, however, as soon as he spots the rest of the band approaching behind you.

“Raincheck?” He offers dismissably.

You cross your arms and scoff. Truly, who the hell did he think he was?

“Go fuck yourself, Eddie.”

You give him no chance to respond before you turn around and stalk off in the opposite direction, not caring that the exit is in the other direction.

You walk past the others as you do and reactions to your outburst range from full guffaws (Argyle, Jonathan) to awkward grimaces (Nancy) to something right in between (Robin). Steve, on the other hand, looks almost angry and while you’re not sure who that anger is directed at—you have too much of your own to worry about it.

“Hey! Don’t be that way, we can write another night, I promise!” You hear Eddie calling out behind you, and suddenly this has become a full-on scene, but you keep walking.

He calls out for you again, this time you pick up on the light desperation coloring his voice but again, you don’t dare turn around. He calls out your name one last time and this time you do respond—by flipping him off.

***

ARABELLA CHEN (FORMER GROUPIE): I remember that! She was kind of a bitch, to be frank. You know, back then I tried not to hang around girls too much, they were always so much drama.

EDDIE: Why did I blow her off? Hm, not sure. I wasn’t doing any drugs back then so I can’t blame it on that. You know what? It was probably because I was...God, what’s the phrase? Oh, right. A jealous immature asshole.

***

You head to the hotel on your own that night, feeling annoyed and only a little bit lonely. You try to do some writing, but you're so wound up that it's no use, so you end up calling it a night early.

You are too wound up to even sleep and you spend the majority of the night falling asleep only to stir awake at the last minute, your energy too high to let you rest. You’re no longer angry and annoyed, though, mostly you're hungry.

You commiserate over the fact that Robin usually was your late-night snack supplier but obviously, she was no longer willing. And because Hopper had blown up at Eddie and Argyle for ordering $650 worth of room service in Nashville after getting a wicked case of the munchies which left you no choice by to shop the hotel vending machines to possible quiet your hunger.

The sad, barely-stocked machines were nestled at the end of the hall in a small separate room that also housed the ice machine You're scanning the rows of candy bars and chip bags trying to find something that was from this decade when the aggressive shrill of the elevator pulls your attention.

There's a cacophony of clumsy noises coming from the elevator. From where you're standing, you can see the occupants stumbling out, a flurried mess of limbs and hair. Eddie and the girl he had had on his arm. The one who had told him about the awesome bar or whatever. Arabella. It was a stupid name, truly. Like a fancy dog or a part of the royal family.

Likely, they can't see you from their spot, or maybe they could but they weren't so preoccupied trying to get Arabella's tongue all the way down Eddie's throat that they didn't. You stayed frozen in place as you watched them stumble to his room, fingers interwoven through hair and hands wandering underneath fabric. Eventually, Eddie hoisted her up and she wrapped her long, golden legs around his torso and you caught a glimpse of her nearly non-existent panties.

Finally, they clumsily stumbled into his room and you were able to escape from your hiding spot, snacks fully forgotten.

You tried to go to bed after that, hoping that the anger and annoyance you had felt earlier in the night had finally dissipated. And while those feelings had quieted, something else equally white-hot through the night you come to realize when after startling awake for the thousandth time you recall fragments of your dream. First, you remember Eddie, and then the girl he was with Arabella. And then you remember the rest. Hot, bare, skin-on-skin, and open-mouth kisses flood your memory, and you can't help but blush. You had been having a dirty dream about your bandmate. A bandmate that you had just had a very public fight with and to top it all off the girl that he chose to spend the night with over you also made a guest appearance in said dirty dream.

Yeah, that was fucked.

You sit up, blankets pulling around your waist and try to blink away the shame and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

It's not a big deal you tell yourself. Everyone has dirty dreams they're not proud of every once in a while. So, what if yours was about Eddie? It was probably an indication that you hadn't gotten any action in a really, really, long. Given your contractually obligated fake relationship, was that truly a surprise?

Your halfhearted attempts to go back to sleep are only met with visions of dark hair and long, ringed fingers exploring supple, rounded flesh.

When you finally decide it's no use, you get to writing instead.

***

The next day during sound check, you avoid Eddie. Partially because you’re still annoyed at him for blowing you off, and partially because the dream you had about him was still far too fresh in your mind you couldn’t count on yourself not to blush in his presence. He was not getting the message though, because he seemed to trail behind you the entire time. Not too close where it was obvious to the others, but close enough that you, the person who was actively trying to avoid him, noticed.

Eventually, you have no choice but to acknowledge him when he all but corners you as you’re leaving the restroom.

“Did you get the…things?” he asks lamely.

“What thing?” you ask, trying to gently push past him.

He looks nervous now, and a bit ashamed, but almost in a cute way like a chastised puppy.

“You, know, the things—” you continue to stare at him, blankly and he has no choice but to elaborate— “the flower things.”

Oh. That was him?

“Oh,” you respond, “That was you?”

It his turn to look befuddled now, bordering on mortified, “Who else could they have been from?”

“I don’t know,” you respond nonchalantly, “I kind of get flowers all the time.”

That was true. Back when you were going on fake dates for photo opps with every warm male body at Starcourt, you were receiving so many thank-you bouquets and charcuterie baskets you had run out of flat surfaces to put them on.

So, this morning when there had been a loud knock at your door, you had been more concerned about telling off whoever decided it was okay to bang on your door in the early hours of the morning (11 AM) than figuring out who sent the obnoxiously large bouquet that had been waiting for you when you opened the door.

“Plus, there was no note,” you add with a shrug.

“Well, of course, there was no note, the depth of my remorse and shame regarding my behavior last night is far too vast to fit onto a measly 3x5 piece of paper. I wanted to apologize in person, like a man.”

***

EDDIE: It was my first time getting someone flowers. I didn’t realize there was a note you had to write.

***

You stare at him, arms crossed and expectingly.

“I’m sorry I blew you off last night to go to a bar downtown with a mechanical bull and I am even more sorry about how much of a dick I was about it. Even though the mechanical bull was a lot of fun, it would’ve been even more fun if you were there. If it’s any consolation, I got knocked off the bull almost immediately. It was humiliating. I deserved it though after the way I spoke to you and if you’d like me, I’d like to make it up to you tonight. What do you say? I’ll buy you a bottle of that wine you like and we’ll have a hot and heavy writing sesh.”

It's at this point that you realize how close the two of you were. Eddie had you essentially caged against the wall, clearly trying to prevent you from slipping past him like you had all afternoon. The proximity along with hearing Eddie say “hot and heavy” immediately brought back memories that you were trying to avoid.

“Maybe,” you croak, as you duck underneath his arm and scurry around him, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the heat of his body. “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”

***

EDDIE: She didn’t get back to me that day. Or the three days after that. She avoided me like the plague, actually. I had thought that the flowers and the heartfelt apology would’ve helped smooth things over a little but I guess I hadn’t realized how much I hurt her feelings.

Of course, I was kicking myself. I was sure that I had wrecked my chances. I told myself it was my fault for ever believing that I could ever have a chance with someone like her. I was ready to accept that it was all over before it ever even began.

And then the strangest thing happened.

***

April 20th, 1984, Pontiac, Missouri

It wasn’t like you were an overly sexual creature. Sure, you enjoyed sex, and you had sex a healthy amount of time, but you had never felt like if you didn’t have sex you would die. Until now.

Maybe it was all the time on the road that was getting to you. Maybe this was some weird psychological thing and your brain associated hotel linens with sexy rendezvous. Maybe being in a (fake) romantic relationship made you crave sexual intimacy as well. Whatever the reason was, you could not shake this growing hunger that burned in the pit of your stomach, and it was starting to affect you outside of just messing with your sleep.

Not only were the dreams happening more often now, but they were no longer just about Eddie. You had them about former flings, and old crushes, Steve was starting to become a frequent player. You think you may have had one about Nancy once, which was very surprising but not unwelcome.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you saw Steve’s treasure trail once and had to spend 20 minutes in the bathroom splashing water on your face. Something very similar happened when Eddie wore a muscle tank to rehearsal.

You had tried handling the issue yourself and while you were able to get the job done, it always left you wanting more.

If you kept having dreams like these, you were eventually going to run out of bandmates you could look in the eye without blushing.

It wasn’t like you could hook up with someone random either. Outside of the obvious reason, it was too much of a risk for your relationship with Steve, both the fake one and the very tender one you had behind the scenes. Steve was the obvious choice to help resolve your issue because of the mutual attraction but you are certain if the two of you started having sex, no matter how casual you could claim it would be, feelings would start to develop sooner rather than later. He was too easy to like for that not to be the case.

You could’ve just ignored it and hoped it would go away, really, you could’ve. In fact, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Hell, you could’ve discreetly found a shop to purchase a vibrator and maybe this whole thing would’ve been resolved. But no, instead, you end up in front of Eddie Munson’s hotel door somewhere in Missouri about to set off a chain of events that was going to impact you for the rest of your life.

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

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@rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader

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xxavengingangelxx · 6 months

Text

Somewhere Only We Know 3/?

Part threeeee! I feel kind iffy about this one. Smurt starts so MDNI! 18+ I feel like the smut is not my best work but there will definitely be more smut in the future chapters :)

Taglist! @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you'd like to be added, lemme know! ;)

Val feels like she has no choice but to return to Shadow Company for numerous reasons.

EDIT: Forgot to add! Q and A. Will Graves get more affectionate? I've gotten that question a LOOOT. Yes. But like all men he just found out and is a little overwhelmed 😉

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Price excused himself to take a phone call. Someone had called him three times back-to-back.

You knew who it was didn’t you?

Price wasn’t allowed to wander off very far. That small wing of the hospital you were in had been sealed off. No one enters or exits except for the police and the military.

Your suspicion was confirmed so were you really surprised when you heard Graves’s voice on the other end of that phone? Years of explosions and gunfire didn’t allow Price to turn the volume low enough that your younger, less exposed ears couldn’t pick it up. And because of how close the perimeter of that hospital wing was you heard every…word.

“Price,” Graves’s voice was tight, on-edge, dangerous and you wondered if someone had pissed him off right before.

“Graves,” Price spat back. “Was beginnin’ ta think Laswell had finally approved that airstrike you were nothin’ but ashes.”

“Haha,”

“Sorry,” Price added, “but I constant’ly fantasize about ya dying.”

“Knock this shit off,” Graves warned. “You have two people I’m interested in.” Graves paused before adding, “One I haven’t quite met yet.”

Price’s silence told you he was in shock.

Why did Graves sound so fucking terrifying today?

“Bloody ‘ell,” Price gasped. “How’d you—”

“I have eyes everywhere,” Graves said darkly. “A thing you might not know about southern culture, ya Brit. We like to keep our families together.”

“And you see Val as family? She’s not your wife ya fuckin’ psycho’.”

“No, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

And you don’t know why that line made your breath catch in your throat. You knew Graves was obsessed with you but what exactly did he mean by that?

“You’re such a sick fuck,”

“Get her back to me.”

“I can’t override an arrest warrant,” Price shot back.

“Figure it out,” Graves snapped. “Or Makarov wins and World War III starts. I have the money and the connections to hide me and my family. Do you?”

You didn’t know you were still crying until the tears rolled down your face as a female soldier (no, not a police officer but a soldier) patted you down. The UK military was pissed enough to detain you because you’d released the codes to 141’s homing beacons. You had denied torture and refused to say anything against Graves or Shepherd. So they saw it as you betrayed 141 and willingly gave them up. You and Graves had worked together that night, hadn’t you? At least that’s what it looked like on the outside looking in. All the digging they’d done had revealed hushed secrets of how you two had been inappropriately involved with each other pretty much since you’d met.

You had mugshots taken for the first time in your life. They took pictures of every visible scar. You wondered why this wasn’t done at the detention facility and you were told it was in case you or someone who fancied you just happened to bust you out from the facility or even got to you before you even got there. So they’d have pictures of you to show the world and help re-capture you.

You were given a bulletproof vest because you’d made the news and had been labeled a traitor. You were loathed. There had been threats on your life. The news loves making people look horrible don’t they? You wondered if the news knew about your situation. Graves knew. And you really didn’t know how to feel about that. You couldn’t even get away from him by being arrested and detained.

You were never going to get away from Graves were you? You didn’t exactly hate it, though. But it also scared you, didn’t it?

You were chained like you were some outlaw (you kinda were though, weren’t you?). The fact that you could pick handcuffs and liked swing at authority figures had gotten around and so your cuffs were anchored to a chain around your waist. Not too tight. They didn’t want you, a sue-happy American, to sue them if you just so happened to lose that pregnancy.

“You’re really gonna let yourself get locked up instead of sayin’ somethin’, anythin’ against that son of a bitch?” Price asked.

“Just watch out for Graves and Shepherd, Captain,” you stated. “He might like me. But he won’t think twice about killing you. Make sure you and your boys stay safe.”

“You make it sound like you’re sacrificin’ yaself.”

“I can keep him distracted just enough.��

The sunlight was bright and it reminded you of how much you hated sunny days. The noise was overwhelming. News crews, people shouting at you, calling you a traitor. So you just glanced down, using your hair to hide your face. 141, for all you had done against them in the last 3 months, shielded you as best as they could.

Soap even pulled your hood over your head and you almost cried at the kindness of it. Also, pregnancy hormones.

It was cold.

You were about to be put into a military vehicle when a familiar voice, a demanding voice, told them to stop and turn around.

It was impossible to understand what was being said outside with all the noise. So you all went back inside, into the warmth of the hospital.

Granted you couldn’t move much. Cuffs anchored to your waist and leg irons. That thin bulletproof vest was tight on you, straps drawn snug. Graves indeed hadn’t been lying that they were going to treat you like a fucking prisoner, a good for nothing. And that was one of the reasons you kept your faith in Graves. You were weirdly bonded to him. You didn’t love him and you were sure he didn’t love you. But it seemed like you both were stuck together for the time being.

Maybe forever. You were obsessed. Maybe just as much as he was. Maybe a little less, though.

But the man here in person? General Shepherd.

“Graves told me what happened,” Shepherd stated. He removed his sunglasses.

“It’s none of yer business,” Price snapped.

“No, it is because she’s mine.”

“No, your Shadow piece o’ shit kidnapped ‘er. And now he’s fuckin’ stalkin’ her.”

“We had reason to believe she was collaborating with Hassan as she was the only one we found. Wandering all alone.” Shepherd paused before adding, “Like an abandoned puppy. That’s the term Graves used. And abandoned puppies need new homes, don’t they?”

Price full on growled. “Thas’ some bullshit excuse ya have. It won’t make sense on paper.”

“But it will,” Shepherd grinned that shit-eating grin he had. It was the same grin you imagined him having when Graves took that initial hostage video all those months ago. “And it did,”

Price was handed papers. What they said you couldn’t read. The print was too small.

“Val here was abandoned by her task force. We took her in, interrogated her, revealed she had nothin’ to hide.” Price signaled at the documents in Price’s hands, shaking with anger. “We did not, under any condition torture her.”

Shepherd looked at you, smirking before adding, “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” you confirmed. You lied. You lied to protect Shepherd, Shadow Company, and most importantly, Graves. Something deep inside told you this would not be the last time lying for them. If this shit was brought to court or congress, you’d keep lying to protect Graves without a second thought.

“Val, ser’ously?” Price glared and if looks could kill, Shepherd would’ve died on the spot.

“She’s been with Shadows for 3 months. She’s mine now.” Shepherd demanded. “Hand ‘er over,”

“She’s not goin’ with ya,” Soap snapped. “Ya’ll done enough.”

“Don’t make me get my boys. You sure as fuck don’t want me getting Graves. He’s pissed. Has been. And when he’s mad he gets trigger happy.” Shepherd smirked. “Now go on ahead and get Graves’s little miss outta those cuffs. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t why ya’ll would treat a lady like that.”

“You’ve lost your mind…again, Gen’ral,” Price snapped. “She’s lookin’ at a court martial. US and UK want her here.”

“Let me put it in simpler terms for you,” That smirk never left Shepherd’s face. “Give me the girl. Give me my soldier or we all lose.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Price muttered from next to you. “We can get a court to look at this,” He signaled at the pages which you still hadn’t bothered to try reading. “You have a choice,”

“I want Graves,” you said confidently.

The police officer, a new one, looked at Price, his gaze asking what he should do. Release, not release? Detain?

“You’re gonna go back to the company that fucked you up so bad you tried to kill ya’self?” Price paused before adding, “Is’ not jus’ about jus’ you anymore, Val. You have someone else to think about. Don’t do this.”

You shrugged. Because it really was. The bond you had with Graves was intense. Plus, you’d stay out of prison. You did have a child to think about. And the last fucking thing you wanted was you in prison in the UK, Graves in prison in the US, and your child in that horrible foster care system. You’d run before you let that happen.

“We’ll get them after all this, Val,” Price muttered so only you could hear. “They’ll rot in prison.”

“Release her. Now.” Shepherd demanded of the officer. “They’ve removed her AWOL status and transferred her to Shadow.”

“You better sleep with one eye open, mate,” were the last words Price said to Shepherd before you walked out of that hospital with said general free of restraints.

Shepherd didn’t say much in the truck. At least not at first. You rubbed your wrists because they cuffs on your wrists had been on too damn tight.

It was you and Shepherd. That was it. You wondered where Graves was. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Graves asked for you by name. Pulled a few strings and got this done because Graves is my best.”

You didn’t say a word. You’d thanked him earlier anyway. Well, that is except to ask, “Where’s Graves?”

“A safehouse,” Shepherd responded. “What’d you tell ‘em, soldier?”

“Nothing, sir.” You responded. “They threatened me with prison but I didn’t say shit. Respectfully.”

“We’ll pull the hospital records,”

“I’ve nothing to hide, sir.”

Shepherd paused before adding, “Don’t disappoint my top man,” Shepherd warned. “He’s gonna be your Shadow for the rest of your life. Told me he’s not letting you go.”

“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”

“He asks you to get on your knees, your response is how low, understand?”

“Yessir,” you felt like he was selling you to Graves.

“Ya ever thought about letting him fuck a kid into ya?”

Your head snapped to look in his direction next to you. Did he know?

“Would be nice to leave all this to family,” Shepherd stated simply. He saw you as something to be used. Was that why he’d said all those months ago he wanted you specifically working for them? A female? A female Shepherd knew Graves had a thing for?

Shepherd chuckled that cold laugh before adding, “I know ya’ll been fuckin’ since you met pretty much. He’s been obsessed with you.”

Was he kidding? And at that second something deep inside you told you Graves might like that you’re carrying his kid. There was no getting away from him now, was there? Even if you wanted to. Where the hell did you think you were going to hide with his kid?

“No offense, sir,” you replied after catching your breath, “That’s not why we—”

“That’s it’s God-given purpose,” he interrupted. “He’d be perfect.”

Who--? Hell, Shepherd was already obsessed with the kid and Shepherd didn’t even know the kid existed. Right? And you didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Product of two of my best soldiers, raised by Shadows, in the field.”

You weren’t sure if Shepherd took your ensuing silence as a form of defiance or as a form of acceptance.

You wished it was just you. Just you going back to Graves, no kid. But you were stuck now, weren’t you? You didn’t think your IUD would fail. But it did. You had less than a one percent chance of getting pregnant but here you were. And that was why you’d made that decision, amongst other reasons, sure. The decision to keep him. Him because you felt it was a boy.

Because maybe while you distracting Graves wasn’t enough, maybe you and his kid would distract Graves enough for him to leave 141 alone.

You just hated an innocent life was involved.

“Did you really raise that much hell?” Graves’s voice from behind you light a fire under your heart. He must’ve noticed your brief injuries.

“You told me to raise hell so I did,”

“Atta girl,” Graves smirked.

You couldn’t help it. You reached out and hugged him, gear and all.

And surprisingly?

He hugged back.

“Good ‘ta have you back,” Graves said, his voice tickling your hair as he rested his chin on your head.

You hoped into a hot shower the second you could. You scratched your skin raw trying to get those tape marks off your arms from when the hospital had started an IV sedated you that one day. You had tape marks all up and down your arms from all the times they’d drawn blood, marks around your wrists from the handcuffs and restraints.

“Don’t make yourself bleed, darlin,’” Graves chided. He’d been watching you through the clear glass shower door.

“I want it off,” you almost pouted.

He was naked when he joined you and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down shamelessly. He did the same to you. His eyes stopped on your breasts and on his favorite spot between your legs.

“They hurt you, didn’t they?”

His eyes lingered on the tape burn on your face from the duct tape pulled off your mouth three days ago. On the scrape your cheek showed after being yanked onto the ground face first when you hit a police officer in the face. And finally, to those scratch marks on your arms from trying to take the medical tape residue off.

You had indeed made yourself bleed.

“Only a little,” you contested.

“They’ll never have ya’ll again,” Graves promised.

And that confirmed he knew. He knew it wasn’t just you anymore.

You got on your toes. The hot water had you both sweating. Your hair was in loose curls over your shoulders and his blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair almost looked light brown when it was wet and hanging on his forehead. Your lips met his briefly before he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively. You raised your hands to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, the strong stinging pain of scratch mark wounds forgotten.

He placed two strong hands on your hips before gripping your ass and effortlessly lifting you. You, out of habit, wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you onto the cold tile behind you, making you gasp and hiss and arch your back.

When you arched your back, you felt him, hot and thick and hard, at your entrance.

“That desperate are we?”

You gave him a lustful glare and an exasperated huff while he scoffed in response.

Graves ran his teeth just along your jawline, making you moan. You caught yourself and reminded yourself to be quiet. This was a safehouse, not a black site. It meant noise traveled through the walls like they weren’t there. It wasn’t like back on base where the walls were concrete. And absorbed all the sound.

“We’re alone,”

You moaned more at his words.

“Lick my fingers,” Graves commanded. He had you pinned against the wall, his hot, thick cock just touching your entrance. You mewled, trying to get him inside you.

So you obeyed. You ran your hot tongue over his fingers as he held them in front of your face.

“Show me how you’re gonna take me,” Graves added in a low growl.

Graves suddenly released you and your knees almost gave out.

You wanted him. You needed him.

“On your knees,”

You obeyed instantly. You fucking loved that despite your delicate situation he was still willing to insert at least a little dominance in the bedroom.

Without him asking you to, you took his hard length into your mouth.

Graves gasped and moaned, throwing his head back and catching his hair in the hot spray of the shower.

It wasn’t long before Graves was on top of you, in bed. You were both still drenched from the shower but it wasn’t like either of you cared. You’d started sucking him off and after pulling you off of him he’d started to work his fingers inside of you before he’d abruptly cut off the water.

Now here you were, drenched hair sprawled out behind you while Graves had bruising grips on your thighs as you felt him mercilessly use his lips, teeth, and tongue to taste you.

You felt like you needed him to totally own you. To take your mind off that burning pain from where you’d scratched yourself so hard you’d cut yourself open earlier, from what you’d learned from your hospital stay, from all the shit you’d been through. So you said those key words…the key words that let him know you wanted him to fuck you almost into unconsciousness, that gave him permission to leave marks on you.

“Graves, show me who I belong to,”

But to your surprise?

“No,” came the growled reply from between your legs.

“What?” you glanced down and the sight that met you almost made you gasp. Graves, his hands still grasping your thighs, his pupils wide with lust, his chin damp from your arousal, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You wondered if maybe you tasted differently. Could he taste that he completely owned you, marked you forever? You were carrying his child. How much more could he own you?

“No, Val,” Graves repeated, his gaze not leaving yours. “Tonight I’m just gonna relearn every fucking inch of your body.”

So after he’d edged you twice and finally let you cum on his lips, he was finally inside you.

And that’s when time seemed to slow down. It felt like you had been apart from Graves your months when in reality it had been a few days. You wondered if this is what addiction felt like. Every time he moved inside you it was like you both moaned in unison. You heard him say something but you couldn’t quite decipher it. Your brain was jelly.

You could feel yourself getting close and he would stop. You whined at the feeling. You wanted to beg him to continue, to fuck you until you couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk.

But every time you’d open your mouth to beg, he’d seal it with his own. And you’d feel him smile, chuckle. The bastard knew what he was doing. So instead of getting rough, he was edging you. He was relearning you and ensuring himself he still knew every inch of you by making sure his cock reached so deep inside you until it could go no further.

“Say my name,” finally came the command. Apparently your ears had stopped working because you knew that tone of voice. Graves had had to repeat this command more than once.

“Fuck me, Graves,” you gasped as his hips stuttered, making your insides flutter.

Graves talked again, but you had trouble hearing him over your own moans and filthy words begging him

Fuck you harder.

Graves grabbed your shoulders and shook you hard enough to get your attention. Not nearly as hard as when he’d fucked you before you were ‘rescued’ by 141. There was a gentleness to his motions that he’d never shown before and you wondered why. Before reminding yourself: you’re pregnant. He was still buried inside you and you arched your back, trying to get him deeper into you.

“Say my full name,”

So that’s exactly what you did.

You said his full name, Phillip Graves, as you came a second time, this time around his cock and felt as his thrusts got sloppy and rough and hard while he came undone inside of you.

End notes: This is gonna get soooo complicated! :o

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #john soap mactavish #mw2 141 #ghost cod #cod mw3 #cod makarov #longwayfromhome #somewhere only we know

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somethingthing · 1 year

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A cold? Bullshit

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff.

Word count: 583

A/n: The snowball fight scene made my heart melt, they were all so cute, especially Daryl. I also feel like he would never accept that he was sick, like he would deny it till his grave if needed. Enjoy! <3

You had all gotten to Alexandria eventually, it hadn´t been easy with the snow storm at full rage, but now it was over. The first thing you all had done was to throw snowballs at each other. It was nice seeing everyone so happy, seeing Daryl that happy.

Now however he was coughing and snivelling “Face it darling, it´s a cold and you need to rest” he was trying to push past you and out of your room to get to a council meeting.

“Nah, I´m okey” he turned is head to cough violently in his arm “I ain´t got a cold, that´s bullshit” he tried to push past you again.

“Daryl, it´s nothing weird with getting a cold, now get your ass in bed for some rest” you carefully pushed him backward towards the bed “I´ll tell the others that you´re sick, it´s no big deal” you finished.

“But I ain´t sick!” he raised his voice with an annoyed tone, again turning his head and coughing. He opened his mouth to say something more but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey, what´s going on? The others are waiting for you” Carol stood in the doorframe with a concerned look.

“Comin´” Daryl stood up from the bed and for once you let him past you. Instead you turned to Carol and opened your mouth to speak “Don´t...” he warned pointing at you.

“Don´t what? What is going on?” she shifted on her feet but got no answer “Spill it! We´ve got places to be” you looked at Daryl.

“He has a cold” you pointed at Daryl “It´s nothin´!” he protested “Daryl you´ve been coughing like a crazy person and snivelling non stop!” “Everyone does during winter!” “Because people get colds during winter!” before he could respond Carol stepped in.

“Hey!” she clapped her hands to draw your attention to her “You´re acting like kids, Daryl, you look like shit and sound even worse, get some sleep, and you” she turned her head towards you “Get him something warm to drink, I´ll tell the others you´re not coming”

You gave Daryl a satisfied expression and headed for the kitchen. When you got back with a hot cup of tea in your hand Daryl was sitting defeated on the edge of the bed again “I´ll report back to you what is said later” Carol headed for the door.

“Thank you” you nodded as you closed it behind her and turned to Daryl who looked like he was fighting off 10 years of no sleep “Here” you reached the cup out trying to hide your pride.

He let out a low grunt and took it “Wipe that smirk off” instead of doing as told you stuck your tongue out playfully.

“Get to bed, Carols orders” you patted his shoulder “But first you gotta drink up” he raised the cup to his lips and took four large chugs and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve “Wow, okey, that was fast” you were surprised he didn´t burn himself.

Ten minutes later you were both snuggled up in bed “If you get me sick now, I´ll be real mad” you scolded, he just pulled you closer and kissed your forehead.

“Nah, won´t happen, cause I ain´t sick” he snivelled before huffing and putting his arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

“Right, I forgot” you snickered “Now rest, please” and so he did, and you too. You didn´t plan on falling asleep, but you did and Carol got no chance to report back to you until the next morning.

------------------------------------

Thank you fot reading! <3 I´m in mourning. They put their heads on spikes, SPIKES. Tbf it´s been a couple of episodes but I´m not over it, so I need to write something sweet. I´m working on a Negan fic and a Merle fic, I´ll get to writing on other movies/shows soon, but right now TWD is my everything hah.

#The Walking Dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fluff #carol peletier #twd carol #daryl dixon

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dontexpectmuch · 1 year

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imagine having an argument with your parents and judes just holding and comforting you need this!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“but, mum really, you have to understand, i, i know what i am doing, please” you plead, eyes filled with tears as you look at your mother, her eyes stern, arms crossed infront of her.

your father stood next to her, eyebrows knitted together and hands stemmed on his hips. they stood, while you sat on the couch, leaving you in a submissive and defenseless position in this entire argument.

“enough.” your dad spoke up this time, “we know that you are old enough to decide some things on your own, but as your parents, we do not approve of you ditching classes to watch some stupid game.”

“but,” you want to defend yourself, tell them that you always work beforehand before watching the games, that you try your very best to please everyone around you.

but of course, of course they don’t want to hear anything about it. not actually believing that you know what you are doing with your life.

so, you do what you always did, even as a child. you just nod, look down at your hands and hold back your tears.

after a few minutes passed, both of them calming down and telling you to go wash our face, you immediately walk to your room, shutting the door and then taking a seat on your floor, back against your bed.

that is what you always do, you quietly cry to yourself, knees pulled against your chest, arms around them. cheering yourself up after arguments with your parents wasn‘t unfamiliar to you.

but, this time was different. for once, you did not feel alone, no, the opposite actually. as you deeply inhaled, judes face popped up in your mind, as if telling you to call him. checking the time on your phone, signaling that jude must be at home by now, you shoot him a short text, telling him to call you when he had the opportunity. and after a few mintues, your phone lit up again, judes baby picture displayed on it.

you picked up as fast as you could, “hey.“

“babe! you have no idea what just happened.“ jude laughed, the sound of it whisking a smile on your lips, caressing your sorrows away as if they have never been there to begin with.

“tell me.“ you were pretty sure that he could hear the smile on your face that just wouldn‘t go away.

he continued to laugh, you could hear some shuffling in the background, “i fell down the fucking stairs, but like, ‘t‘s nothin‘ serious, but, ‘t was so dumb, like.“

sitting up, concern spread over your features, “did you hurt yourself? you have to be careful, jude!“ you scold him lightly, “cool the area you fell on, is your mum there?“

“babe, ‘m fine, promise, but it was so, i don‘t even know, so random, shit.“ he giggled, before calming down, “what did you want to talk about? you good?“

you ponder for a bit, you didn‘t feel sad anymore, hearing his voice immediately comforting you like no one else has ever done.

clearing your throat, “i, i guess i just wanted to hear your voice, i missed you.“ you say instead.

“you sure? nothin‘ else?“ he questioned you, almost as if he sensed that something had happened.

“well, there was something.“ you start, leaning your head against your bed while staring out of your window, moon and stars fully displayed. the moon being your only source of light that shone directly into your room, it made you feel weird. your insides felt fuzzy, especially with judes voice in your ear. “but, i forgot. tell me about your day, though. did you hit salihs face with the slipper again?“

hearing you say that made jude giggle again, what can he say? you were funny, alright.

and so, you continued to listen to your boyfriend ramble about his day, completely forgetting about the event from earlier. comfort washed over you, tense shoulders finally relaxing and the only tears that rolled down your face were the ones jude caused from his funny story telling.

he wouldn‘t know, but at this moment, his voice filling your mind, his warm presence that even went through the phone helped you calm down so much that at some point you felt like falling asleep. with jude by your side, why bother focussing on the sadness, right?

———————————

i listened to my “railing someones son“ playlist, so, excuse me if it doesn‘t fit the vibe perfectly.

#jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #football one shot #jude bellingham fluff #football #football imagine #hurt/comfort

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junekicks · 2 years

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she’s a quiet thing ♱ eddie munson

It was the smell of coconut and weed that had your head feeling all fuzzy and warm. You might as well been on fire with how heavy the smell felt, despite your body laying on your cold bathroom tile flooring. White frilly socks covered your feet, and they were kicked up onto a closed toilet lid. Your moon eyes were closed and hiding from the world, hiding from Eddie.

He seem to notice. Your silence gave you away. More quiet than usual.

Eddie was taking cover in your tub. His hairs thrown up in a low bun, the front pieces are damp and stuck to his skin. And his scars and tattoos on full display and it makes him feel a little too seen. And yeah, you weren’t looking at him, but still. He wasn’t really sure why he suddenly care, you were his best friend. You both had seen each other, why was now any different?

Because you’re so quiet. Worse than usual. That ticked a nerve in his chest.

His half dry fingers held a joint, and his wrist nearly hung off the tubs edge. The waters almost too warm for his skin. Smoke passes his lips like song lyrics being told. “You okay, love?” His voice frightens you and the silence, your eyes flinch open and you have to crane your neck a little to see his full face. The pale moon face of his lolled against the bathroom wall to look down at you. “Really quiet today.”

His voice is gently and raspy all at once.

You shrug gently against the floor tiles, fingertips tapping at your clothed stomach. It’s too late and your mother should be home soon from her shift at the hospital, but no one makes an effort to move. She’s starting to warm up to the town’s freak anyway. “I think I forget to speak sometimes.”

Eddie blows a final blow. You feel like you can feel it on your face. He shuffles a little, bubbly water moves around him as he leans, putting out the joint into a heart made tray by your head. He smells like coconuts and honey, like you normally do. “Thought we said that was okay. S’just who you are. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Your eyes move to the boy. “I don’t think everyone thinks that, though.” And that’s why you’re even more quiet, he understands it now, someone did something. The boy raises a brow, “something happen today?”

You shrug again. “It’s what didn’t happen.”

Suddenly you’re sitting up, pushing yourself closer to the tub as the blood rushes from your head. Little stars in your eyes. “The girls today, all talking at lunch about what to do for Chrissy’s birthday. It’s a surprise party, and I was the one who came up with the idea awhile back. And today we’re finally talking about it, and everyone’s putting ideas in. Heather’s writing them down, it’s sweet of her. And I just can’t seem to get anything out. I try to open my mouth, and nothing! My head just wont let me speak, everything I want to say is stupid..”

The boy smiles gently, one dimple. He looks so pretty like that. “Did anyone ask you anything?”

“No. That’s the thing, no one forced anything out of me. But I could see it on their faces, disappointing. They wanted me to help out and I did too! But.. I just couldn’t say anything. I know they all forgot about it after lunch, but it was bothering me. It still is.”

Eddie leans forward in the tub, fingers creased with age because of his time in the warm water that’s fading cold. He let’s the water drain, bubbles leaving his skin. “Maybe you should write down some of those thoughts. Are we feeling that today?”

You push up from the floor gently, taking a seat on top of the counter as Eddie pulls himself from the tub. Your eyes flicker to the tattoos on his thighs, eyes tracing the dark lines and the placement of the ink makes your cheeks burn. Eddie acts like he doesn’t notice your staring, or how it makes his insides white hot. Maybe you should tell him he makes you feel better, but you don’t really like to speak on that so boldly.

A towel comes around him. His eyes fall on yours and you’re shrugging, again. “I guess I could try.” Eddie smiles gently at your words, coming to stand between your legs. His pinkie drags over the slope of your nose, “I’ll get your pink glitter pen.”

You can’t help and laugh all sugary sweet, he loves that noise and he already knows there’s progress being made with your dampened mood.

And when your mother does get home, tiredness in her eyes, she finds you and Eddie at the dining table. You’re sitting on his lap, eyes glued to a notepad with a pink glitter pen in your hand— writing away. Eddie’s sipping gently on a glass of chocolate milk, the TV is playing past the table. He beams at your mother, and she’s all sweet and grateful because she just knows it’s been another one of those days for you.

But Eddie Munson just seems to know how to make everything better, even when he’s not better himself.. all scars and tattoos. But, that’s a story for another day.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #writing #joe quinn #joe quinn x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #reader with anxiety #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things eddie munson #soph’s place

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howdoib · 1 year

Text

Happy Holiday Truce @banchagu !!! I'm really rusty at writing but when I saw "Kitty and Johnny" and "Ghost part" my brain went into punk history brainrot mode. I really wish I had the time to flesh this out better for you, and I'm not sure I did all the topics justice.

Regardless, I really hope you enjoy!!

__________________

Kitty remembers the first time back in '76 when she still went by Kathleen and she didn't know a Siouxsie from a Shane- She knows she ain't supposed to remember, maybe it's 'cause she died so slowly, bleedin out on the ground next to Johnny; he died on impact. But she remembers the first time that she felt the rumblin' beneath her not too worn and nothin fancy shoes.

The ol' boarded up building that she thought used to be a smoke shop had been promising new business for a while but she'd never seen it before was lit up and the street around it shook. It sounded like a riot.

She remembers the shiny new cruisers (not that she had known that name back then) parked in a neat little line up front. Beat-up cars parked in reckless zigzags and more than a couple of lonely bicycles tied, chained, and just sitting against anythin' that even slightly allowed it.

And she remembers walkin' closer to it, weaving across the street, tiptoeing around the shiny bikes to glance on through the windows.

Inside was a hazy den of smoke and flashing lights- this was before the punk scene got too wild but back then she didn't know quite so much- with moody stompers shouting and sceaming. After looking for a minute she had realized they were singing along to a barely audible guitar. The stompers were dancing, she had thought then a little mad, but she had leaned closer all the same tryin' to make out what had them all excited.

"You can go inside ya know."

It hadn't meant much to her back then, but this was the first time she met him, his voice all gravely and smokey, a cigarette in his left hand. He was even slighter back then, all bony awkward elbows in too big clothes. His coat- the same one he wears now the one he died in was even bigger on him, the poor leather hem dragging on the ground. Maybe the meeting would have been better, more impactful, if he hadn't been leaning against a wall and she hadn't been craning her neck to peer through a tiny window. But she only remembered thinking this asshole before stomping over to the door.

She'll never forget this moment, if she dies again, somehow, after her souls faded into less than dust, this memory will stick to the wind, cemented for eternity- or somethin' like that. But when she opened that door the casphony made sense. The musty stompers all clad in denim and safety pins surrounded her and she couldn't see the stage but she knew this sound. Not because she'd heard it before but in the pounding in her chest when she was angry and the drive in her feet before she jumps. Yet somehow in it's familiarity it was overwhelming, awe-inspiring to the point where she felt like she had opened a door to a roaring river and then stepped inside.

Kitty wishes she could say she remembers that night crystal clear- but it's all 'twixt lil scraps of images and things she objectively knows happened. An' unlike Johnny it's not 'cause she died that she forgot. Just that the whole night was the same empty ecstatic feeling of breathing for the first time.

She knows she had stood around a while 'fore Johnny had somehow got her to dance. She remembers this one wicked blue haired stomper lookin her dead in the eyes and piercing her straight through the ear with a safety pin.

Johnny and her had blown the joint once it got too late, him sayin' how she didn't need to be involved with all that stuff. She had tucked her face into his lean back and clung on for dear life. It was a kiddie ride but back then she'd never touched a motorcycle much less ridden one. High on life and too caught up in it to head home, they mosied around town.

When the wind blew through her wooly school blazer and carried the raspy muttering of Johnny, Kitty remembered deciding this would be her eternity.

It wasn't. Not yet at least. Kitty had woken up then next day ice cold in a park all snuggled up 'gainst Johnny an' his bike. Even back then he'd called it 13- didn't know why people couldn't figure out that the man who claimed his own shadow wouldn't claim his bike, but Kitty had been around too long to not realize they were all fucking idiots. Lovingly.

Back then though, she had just desperately tried to remember the night before- twasn't nothin' bad, just her and Johnny clicking like that. She wasn't even slightly sorry when she gyped with Johnny and they rode around town all day.

They had cussed out neighbors and fogies and snuck their way Ol' Freddie's yard, just to see what was back there (a worn down shed and scraggly bushes of molly, Johnny snuck some in his pocket).

As 4 rolled around she met his crew; a silly bunch of goofs, all covered in safety pins and shitty tattoos. Kitty remembers the first time she rode with the pack. Everybody howling an' actin' like crazed wild things; they had been playin it up a bit for the new gal, but the shit they would get into together certainly topped this Rowley brigade. The record shop was near close when they rolled in and looted, pulling out records with labels like "Nipple Erectors" and "Hammersmith Gorillas". Good taste. Back then she thought they were fucking loons.

After it closed they had all rumbled their way around lookin for something cheap to spend their pocket lint on. What they ended up actually finding was a wide storm drain that Johnny had lept down from the short bridge dragging her by the hand down with him too.

"First dibs!" He exclaimed with a wicked grin. Kitty hadn't known it was possible for someone her age to be missing so many teeth.

She kinda liked it. Who would've thought she'd spend her whole life and afterlife with this same dumbfuck?

Sittin' in that drain with Johnny, their legs kicking to and fro, and the gang crouched on the banks, was serene. Kitty had a picture still of her an' Johnny, just sitting there. A tall kid from their gang, Galaxy, they went by, kept pullin out the funniest faces and a sullen girl kept deadpanning things down so that even as Kathy lost track of the conversation she still caught herself roarin with laughter. When footfall passed overhead they all hushed up, but Johnny kept grinning, starin' each of 'em in the eyes trying the break the first laugh. It worked too. They were lucky back then. They didn't get caught this time.

The sun would begin to set and Kitty would have Johnny drive her on home with the promise of seein' her at school the next day (she had doubted, she went to a Catholic girls school). At home she got the first scolding of many before she packed up her things and left. But even that day, before she was used to it, Kitty remembered not feelin' an ounce of regret.

To her surprise, the next day, she did see Johnny, all dressed in a skirt with his hair pulled back in braids. She punched him straight in the face. She didn't get it till her upperclassman, Mary, put her arm around "Joanne's" shoulders and dragged him off to class.

She had chewed her lip raw thinking about it back then, in her first period class. When that final bell rang she had already sprinted over to the shed behind the school- she had bet Johnny stashed his bike there.

Back then she was an arrogant piece of shit and so the first thing out of her mouth was:

"What're you doin' at a school like this? Trying to perv on girls?"

Johnny had given her that little half smirk of his, his canine looking sharp. "I'm 13 for a reason."

He grabbed her hand as he swung his leg over the bike

"You wanna ride or you wanna talk, Chatty Cathy?"

Kathleen had had almost stood there too long, his hand began to pull away.

"Call me Kitty," she said, "And you're lucky to know someone like me."

And yeah, maybe Kitty regrets sayin' that kinda shit back then, but they were both just stupid kids trying their absolute hardest to be cool. An' even if it was cruel Kitty was glad that he got it. That he took her on that bike and they went far. Maybe they took it too far.

She remembered when they rode around like madmen, only getting wilder after they both dropped out, together. Livin' on the "no plates no rules" mindset. As long as they could outrun it an' make it to their next thrill, that was all that mattered.

One time when they were running from the police, Kitty hollering in his ear, they drifted over 70 miles per hour- which may sound like nothin' but with a passenger it ain't nothin'. Kitty remembered leaning so hard her elbow almost touched the ground and a hysterical laugh breaking out as she squeezed her eyes shut for the first time in a long time.

Since then they only got more reckless and the rest is history. Maybe they shouldn't have tried that last turn in such a tight ally and maybe Kitty shouldn't have gotten them in the mess in the first place.

But when she woke up next to Johnny again, sky green or not, she didn't care.

That first day she remembered shaking him awake and calling him Johnny, and him saying he didn't know who the fuck Johnny was. An' when she told him everythin' and called home her Johnny, she remembered this-

"Maybe I was your Johnny, but I ain't nobody's Johnny until I decide to be. But you can stick around if ya like." He held out his hand again, as he was already on the cursed bewitching bike. She grabbed on.

"Call me Kitty, and 13's my lucky number."

He'd remember everything later after they'd ridden for a while and he told her she'd be his ride and die for death. He never remembered that wicked turn or why they tried it in the first place. Kitty would tell him someday- he wasn't so lucky to know a girl like her.

_____________________

Bonus sketch of storm drain photo

#phandomholidaytruce #holiday truce 2022 #danny phantom #kitty and johnny dp #whosvladagain saves #dp #did u see the ember cameo?

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enchantinglyjade · 2 years

Text

Milk & Honey - Ch. 7

Elvis (Movie) x Black!OC

Masterlist

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Summary: Vickie and Honey get invited to a party. What could go wrong?

Warning: NSFW 18+ (Just a hint of spice, but still), sexual themes, dirty dancing, Swearing, forceful flirting, alcohol, smoking

Song: Mannish Boy - Muddy Waters

- Ma’s words stick with me for days. Elvis had tried seeing me at work the next night. In his mind everything was fine again between us, but in mine I could hear her voice. I can’t let him end up like my dad; thrown in jail over something so ridiculous. I can’t bear the thought. It tore Ma to shreds and Elvis ain’t even like my dad. Elvis is a nationwide star with a whole career and future laid out for him with fans and a family that loves him. I can’t take that away from him. Being with him isn’t an option, so I did what I had to do. I pushed him away.

I’ve felt empty since; ignoring Michael’s and Vickie’s calls, barely leaving the four walls of my room. Nothing feels worth doing anymore knowing the world will only shame me and put me back in my box. It took everything in me just to come downstairs this morning and watch television with Ma like we usually do. Of course, she insists on watching the Ed Sullivan show. Normally I love watching this with her, always cozying up after dinner to see the new artists perform. But now with Elvis’ face plastered all over the screen, I just wanna kick the damn thing out the window and cry.

Obnoxious knocks suddenly come from the front door, tearing our attention away from the living room.

“Honey! Honey! Honey! Let me in!”

“Honey, I swear if you don’t get that damn girl under control.” Ma shakes her head with a disapproving lip scrunch.

I let my blanket fall off my shoulders as I raise myself up from the couch and walk over to the door, peeking my head out. “Damn, Vickie. It’s late. What’s goin’ on?!” I whisper aggressively.

She just pushes past me, welcoming herself into the house. “Afternoon, Ms. James!” She greets happily.

“Mmm.” Ma sneers back, turning to the TV once again.

Vickie rotates her concentration back my way with an impish smile. “The two finest girls in all of Memphis just got invited to a party tonight!” She throws her hands in the air and begins doing a little dance. I raise a brow, not exactly following where this is going. She drops her arms unamused. “Us!” She shouts. She leans in close to my ear. “Elvis gon’ be there.” She pulls away, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Uh uh. You ain’t goin’ to no party, Honey. ‘Specially this late.” Ma stands from the couch, wagging her finger at me.

Vickie attempts to ease the situation. “Oh no, Ms. James, it’s not like that. It’s just… a few work friends. For… a promotion- Honey’s promotion!” She turns, throwing her arms up as if to present me. “She’s been working extra hard at the diner and we’re throwing her a little celebration dinner to congratulate her.”

We both told our moms the same lie to save our asses about working at a club. Though Vickie comes from a much richer family than mine, so I doubt she has much on the line if she were to have to quit. Still, she’s a bit younger than me and something even I fear what would happen if she gets involved with the wrong people through out job.

Ma’s glare faces into a bright smile. “Honey, you ain’t tell me you got a promotion. Congratulations, baby.” She wraps her arms around me, rubbing my back while she hugs me. “Look at you, climbin’ that ladder!” She exclaims.

Vickie scoffs from behind her. “Oh, she’s climbin’ somethin’” She coughs out. I give her a light smack on the arm in disbelief.

“What was that now?”

“Nothin’. She’s just bein’ stupid, Ma. Don’t pay her none.” I glare Vickie down as her jaw drops from my comment. “It’s just to celebrate. It’s a good thing she reminded me too. I almost forgot.” I chuckle nervously.

Vickie puts her hands on Ma’s shoulders after giving me a side eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll have her home safe and early.”

“Mmhmm.” She hums, barely convinced only at this comment ironically enough. “You better watch yourself out there.” Ma puts a finger in my face.

“She can go?” Vickie grabs my arm excitedly.

Ma pauses for a second, looking between the two of us. “Yeah, alright.”

“Thank you, Ms. James!” Vickie jumps up and down, bouncing my arm along with her. Man, she is lucky my momma’s open to more things than most because this would not have flown in another household. “Come on, let’s find you somthin’ to wear.” She says as she drags me upstairs and into my room.

She rummages through my closet, throwing piles of shit all over the floor. “What’s with all this broke ass, slave clothes you got?!”

I gasp at her extreme comment. “It’s not that bad, damn!” I kick one of the shirts on the floor at her.

I walk over to my dresser to grab a new headscarf to wear when something buried beneath the cloth catches my eye. Something I’ve never worn before, but have been hiding from mom in case of a moment like this. Hmm… “Hand me that dress right there, could ya?”

She looks down, following where my fingers is pointing before her face contorts in some kind of mixture of disgust and confusion. “Uh uh, Honey. That’s the worst one. Please don’t do me like that, not now.” She begs.

“Just hand it to me!” I put my hand out in from of me, waiting for it to be filled with the dress in question.

She stomps before throwing it over angrily.

With a smile, I grab the item from the dresser drawer and hurriedly bring everything to the bathroom to get changed. I adjust the dress and headscarf in the mirror so everything looks well put together and revoltingly shrewd. Then, I walk back to the room to display the outfit to Vickie.

She turns away in a dramatic disgust, shielding her eyes. “Come on, Honey. It’s bad enough you been ignoring me for days, now you gon’ do this to me!? Do som’ nice with your face at least. That damn dress looks like my grandmama’s table runner!”

We manage to get past Ma without her suspecting anything is up and we begin our long walk to the party. Man, I can’t wait to get a car.

She walks with her hands behind her back and a scheming smile on her face. “Seein’ you and Elvis the other night was somethin’ else. He is all over you, Honey. I think my advice is working after all.” She states, proudly lifting her head high in the air and giving each of her steps a happy bounce. “You gon’ keep teasing him or go for a home run?” She asks excitedly, rubbing her hands together.

“I’m gonna leave him alone.” I reply with a lot less enthusiasm than she has.

She throws her hands down in a rush of annoyance. “Why?!”

I take a deep breath in. “Him and I got into a fight.”

“So?! She groans. “This is the perfect opportunity to tease him more. Build that tension until all the frustration overflows into some good ass makeup s-”

“Vickie!” I shout. Honestly, her idea would probably relieve half the stress I’m feeling, but… “Michael’s still in the picture and I don’t know how-...if I can get rid of him.”

She sneers. “Man, dump his ass. You got Elvis Presley!”

I let out a frustrated whine. “I wish everything were that easy. Michael’s helping me set up a career in singing. Do you know how hard it is to find trustworthy people in the entertainment industry, let alone people willing to help someone like me? And Ma don’t want me anywhere near Elvis anyway. Thinks I’m safer with Micahel, which is the truth.If I choose Elvis, I’ll upset her AND the rest of the country for that matter. I don’t wanna put Ma in danger again.” I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, never realizing how sensitive the whole ordeal is for me until I said it out loud.

For the first time, I watch Vickie’s face turn gloomy. She gives me a sympathetic look as she reaches out for my hand. “Look, we go to this party, have ourselves a good ol’ time, relax, and think about it some other day? Whatever happens tonight remains a secret with me.” I send her a weak smile, appreciating her efforts to distract me from my problems. “But promise me you’ll at least sleep with the motherfucker, damn! You ain’t gotta marry him, but seeing you two talk in givin’ ME sexual frustration!”

I giggle, looking away to hide the redness that rises to my cheeks from the thought. The topic still feels weird to talk about despite how many times I’ve thought about it. I had hope she didn’t notice, but I’m very wrong.

“You a virgin.” She states bluntly, a large grin growing on her face.

I snap my head back to her, trying to come up with something I can say to make her think otherwise, but a simple, “What?” is all I can muster.

She raises a brow, putting her hand on her hip. “You are obnoxiously square, Honey. It ain’t nothing to be ashamed about. I know deep down you got a little spark in ya. I see it in your eyes when you look at him, but you gotta be more confident. You got two fine ass men after you! And you’re amazingly talented and beautiful, so don’t let them, or yourself, forget that.”

I can’t help but smile at her words, feeling all flustered by the compliment.

“Now, when we go in there, you go up to tha tman and give him the best damn ride on his life!”

“Oh my God!”

We tumble down the dim light sidewalk, hand in hand as we laugh together, continuing towards the house. Once we make it it the final block, I stop in my tracks and suddenly begin shimmying of my dress, getting my arm stuck in the tight fabric for a moment.

“Honey! What the hell are you doing?!” She whispers, whipping her head back and forth to make sure no strangers are peeking out their windows.

I pull the grandma dress off to reveal a tight fitted, satin-like, black dress. I smooth it out, watching as it shimmers under the street lights. I then step out of my old dress, pick it up, and proudly parade past Vickie whose jaw is on the floor.

“Ooo, Honey, you sly thing. I knew you’d come through!”

We all but skip to the front of the house, excited for everything that was waiting for us on the other side of that door. She knocks three times before a man opens it, greeting Vickie and smiling at me before stepping aside to let us in.

Suddenly all my previous excitement is replaced with anxiety, just not realizing what I have gotten myself into. I have never been to a party before.

As we hang up of things at the entrance, Vickie leans over to whisper to me. “They’re members of a band I saw the other night. They’re here on tour.” I nod slowly, taking in the environment around me, mostly the exits.

Vickie leads me further into the house. It’s mostly empty and quiet, and honestly a little crummy, that is until we go down into the basement. Music and life fill the space, along with smoke, musk, and a warm, tingling sensation. The basement’s nearly as big as the house. In one corner, a few men are in the middle of a game of pool. In another corner, a woman sits in a man's lap while they basically eat each other’s faces. In the center is a table. There sits a few familiar musicians, Elvis and King being two of them. The table is filled with guitar, harmonica, singing, everything essential to the blues. You can practically taste the talent in the room, it’s so potent. But I can’t ignore that the only other girls here were seductively dancing around the room, egging the musicians on to continue playing.

“Vickie, why exactly did we get invited here?”

She shrugs. “I talked to them at the club the other night, said they saw you perform and through we’d be fun to be around, I guess. I don’t know. Don’t look so deep into it! Just go around and make connections. Unless you’d prefer connecting to your man…” She elbows me with a wide smile before ditching me for a band mate.

I feel my stomach fall the further away Vickie gets from me. She’s my pillar of support for my confidence and now I feel my walls crumbling down. What do I do with myself? Do I sit? Do I talk or drink? I tentatively follow Vickie’s general direction, thinking I’d be safe if I stayed near her. I walk past Elvis, who pretends not to notice me, still upset about my behavior towards him recently. I try to sneak past to not disturb him or anyone else, but accidentally make myself known to the man next to him.

The man turns in his chair towards me. “Ah, come on in, baby girl.” He puts his arm around my hips, pulling me in towards the table. “Now, who is it that you belong to?”

I hold back disgust. “Definitely not you.”

The boys around him all shout with laughter, hitting him on the shoulder at my remark. Elvis disguises himself to appear as if he is paying no mind to the stranger's hand on my thigh, but I note the irritated pop in his jaw. “Woah, got a mouth on this one.” The man says, taking his arm from me as he realizes I’d be too much work for him.

I look away, noticing a large bass in front of him that one of the musicians has left on the table. It’s a beautiful, burnt orange, glossy guitar. Without thinking, I extend my hand to ever so gently run my finger along the frets, feeling each metal bump scrape against my fingertip. But then, the man rudely snatches it away, adjusting it on his lap. “Watch it, lil’ mama. Men at play here. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt now.” He warns in a condescending tone.

I hum, biting my tongue from saying anything particularly smart or rude back. “I like to play.” I flirtatiously add before concluding my time spent at the table and choosing to walk away to sit against the wall. The table is filled with an array of ‘Ooo’s’ from my taunting.

Now seated on the other side of the room, I can see Elvis more clearly. His head is pointed down while he strums his guitar, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. After taking a puff, he takes it from his mouth, then squeezes it between the strings on the head of the guitar se he can have both hands available to play. King analyzes his playing, matching him with a similar melody for the rest of the guys to jam to.

Elvis looks so stunning when he’s concentrating. He really knows how to feel a song; always bopping his head, tapping his foot. It’s something I envy in him; the ability to lose myself in something. It’s inspiring and I can’t help but want to be surrounded by this type of energy.

I sigh, turning my attention away from him as a means to distract myself from the feeling of ache in my heart. The harmonica player calls a woman over to him. He throws his legs over the table to lounge more casually in his chair. “Do that little dance you did earlier, baby. Been doin’ nothin’ but playin’ all night, I need som’ pretty to look at.” He chuckles out cockily. The woman does so, happily matching the beat of the music with ease. She smooths her hands down her body with grace, dancing in such a confident and tempting way. The grin on his face drops as he licks his lips, nearly breaking his neck to watch her shake from behind.

I quickly look away, feeling a prang of shameful jealousy grow inside me. The ability to dance, but not the stomach to move; a painful disease I carry.

As my eyes scan the room for a new place to land, the pit in my gut only enlarges when I find Elvis once again. Two women, both whom have shed a few layers of clothing from the heat of the music. “Ooo, play it, daddy!” One of the girls says, gliding her hand through his loosely buttoned shirt and down his skin. A panic runs through my heart as she comes dangerously close to his belt line and speeds up when her other hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head to rest on her breasts. The other woman smiles as she takes a sip from her drink, twirling her hips right in his view.

To my dismay, Elvis smiles at the excited girls before his gaze lazily finds mine from across the room. Only when he does this do I truly understand what he’s doing. His chest heaves and eyes gloss over with a lusty haze while he waits for me to cry, beg, or some other weak shit. I know under his carefree demeanor surges a longing. For me. The jealousy, the need, it’s all in his eyes, the way he looks at me and only me even when surrounded by other girls.

King gives me a look, almost apologetic for Elvis’ actions. That feeling of patheticness makes something snap in me. Elvis wants me to react.

Well, I’ll give him a reaction.

I stand from my spot, gunning Elvis down with a glare. As I walk over to him, I reach my hands up and slowly unwrap my headscarf. The cloth cascades down my body and onto the floor, leaving my blonde curls to freely frame my face in public for the first time. His entire attitude changes, melting into his chair as I see that shy boy I’ve always known return to his eyes, but it’s too late now.

The girls move to the side to make room for me, confused and almost offended by my sudden presence. His hands slowly continue to pick at the guitar, but quickly become frigid with my every step. Now standing in front of him, I mute the strings before taking the instrument out of his lap, placing it on the table. Elvis is too amazed and enthralled to challenge me in doing so.

Once the guitar is out of my way, I reach down to play with the hem of my dress and then hike it up my legs. Now, I have everyone’s attention. I graze my fingers up my thighs, still dragging the cloth up and exposing more and more of my skin. The boys watch intensely, hootin’ and hollerin’, hoping so desperately that I continue only to watch me stop short of what they really wanted to see.

I lift one leg, swinging it over Elvis’ lap and adjust my hips to sit more comfortably, purposely wiggling myself over his most sensitive areas which he reacts to with a sharp inhale and a leg twitch. I reach behind me, grabbing the cigarette out from between his guitar strings, taking a small inhale before resting it between his own lips. He accepts it from me, instinctively pressing a kiss onto my pinched fingertips.

Elvis and I had smoked together before; the four of us would get into so much crazy shit as kids that our mama’s never found out about, so the feeling of the smoke in my lungs isn’t a foreign one despite it not being a favorited pastime.

I bring my hand up to push back the sweat coated hair out of his face before leaning in close to his ear. “Thought I was your only girl, ‘daddy’.” I whisper mockingly, only for him to quietly moan at my new nickname for him, leaning his head back further into my palm and the chair behind him.

He inhales from the cigarette, but before he lets it back out into the air, I take the cigarette out from his lips and press mine to his. He immediately kisses back with a deep groan, roughly groping the part of my thigh just below the cheek, pulling me forward into the kiss, before taking one of his hands away to lace into my hair. I take the smoke into my lungs as he exhales. I hold my breath just long enough to get a better taste of him, moving my lips carefully against his to keep the tainted air trapped. I hold my face close to his, mouth against mouth but unmoving. My eyes flutter open to meet his heavy lidded ones before I slowly straighten myself again, pulling away only to finally exhale, letting the smoke cloud out vision.

He closes his eyes in what I can only imagine to be ecstasy. It’s not until now that I even remember we’re in a room filled with observers, who, surprisingly, haven’t stopped playing their instruments yet. With a cocky giggle, I slide off his lap, walking back to my seat as my heart races with adrenaline and a sly smirk sets in on my face. Cigarette still in my hands, I take a puff from it, peering over my shoulder at Elvis in the corner of my eye. The ego he had only 5 minutes prior now lies on the floor, exchanged with desperation. Serves him right. I smirk at Vickie, who looks as though she’s about to absolutely lose her mind at my sudden bravery. I admit, this whole exchange fills me with an enormous amount of pride and, damn, it feels good.

“Woo, that was somethin’!” One of the men holler, before turning to his own girl, “How come you ain’t do som’ like that for me, huh, baby?” His friends laugh, and just like that, the party resumes back to normal. Well, almost everyone.

On the other side of the room, a woman picks out a record to play, letting it spin before dropping the needle down onto it, all while Elvis’ eyes never leave mine for even a second. “Oh! I love this song! Dance with me, Sunny!” She calls out, reaching for the mentioned man, dragging him out from his seat and onto the makeshift dance floor. At first he seems annoyed, embarrassed even, as his friends smirk and tease him. However, the second she begins moving her hips, he pulls her against him with a new found enthusiasm, making the other boys in the room jealous.

The others follow suit, body rolling into each other all across the room; in the corner, on the pool table, anywhere they could manage, yelping and laughing with lust.

As I watch them, I almost don’t notice Elvis picking himself up from his chair. I raise a brow at him, but as he stalks closer and closer my face begins to drop. I sit up straight on the edge of my seat with twinkling eyes, waiting to see what he’s gonna do. Before I can even stand or say anything, he rips the cigarette from my mouth, throwing it into the nearest ashtray. “Get up.” He demands.

I furrow my eyebrows at his straightforwardness, pretending to be offended, but really I could only feel excitement build up inside me. I stand nonetheless. He escorts me to the darkest corner of the room. A familiar tingle shoots through my body as I close my eyes, preparing for him to grab me and kiss me, or something. When nothing happens, I open my eyes only to see him stand with his hand extended for me. Skeptically, I take it and just as our skin touches, he immediately pulls me closer, other hand on my waist. “Come here, baby. We’re dancin’.”

I scoff out a laugh. “You brought me over here to dance?”

His hand drifts downward from my waist, thumbing the faint love handles at my sides. “That’s not all. Don’t worry.” He mumbles deeply, beginning to sway me back and forth to the beat.

My mother said I was gonna be the greatest man alive

But now I’m a man

I’m age 21

I want you to believe me, honey

We having lots of fun

“Got you some nerve teasin’ me like that, mama. ‘Specially after the way you been actin’.”

I tilt my head up, leaving a kiss on his jawline. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, baby.” I whisper into his ear, causing his hands to tense.

His next words vibrate against my lips while I continue to kiss up his neck. “Mhm, I’m sure you didn’t.” He leans his head up towards the ceiling to allow me better access to his skin.

I pull back, delaying my next thought for a moment, but I eventually let it out. “Why you keep comin’ back to me? I thought I’m barely your type anyway?” I ask lightheartedly despite the deep anxiety I feel over the many answers he can give me.

His eyebrows wrinkle, dumbfounded I’d even ask such a question. “And what is my type exactly?” He inquires with a deep interest in my answer.

I shrug, now too embarrassed to keep making eye contact with him. “Figured you’d be a more Marylin Monroe type man. You know - sexy, blonde, white, voluptuous.”

A large smile appears on his face at this. I raise a brow as to why, which only causes him to simply laugh. “You practically described yourself, baby.”

I roll my eyes with a smile. “Oh, whatever.”

He chuckles, pressing his forehead against mine. “Ain’t nobody I want more than you, darlin’.”

When I make love to a woman

She can’t resist

I can make love to you, honey

In 5 minutes time

His hand slowly trails up my leg, my dress bunching up at his wrist. He grips my thigh, bringing it up towards his waist and resting it on top of his own slightly bent leg.

My heart feels as though it’s jumped into my throat. All rational thought quickly dissipates from my mind, including my mother’s warning. I place a hand on his neck, pulling him in for another needy kiss, still tasting the smoke on his tongue. “I missed you.” I breathe onto his lips.

For one brief second, my body feels at ease as I finally allow myself to give in to what I’ve been feeling for so many years, allowing myself to become his, even if just for a moment. But that feeling of ease is short lasting, satisfaction rapidly fading and replaced with a long repressed hunger for more.

His hand swirls my bottom half in motion with him. I cling tightly onto him, bringing myself even closer so that I can twirl my hips right on top of his. I shamelessly grind my core against his, absolutely loving the sensation it brings. At the angle, I’m able to feel everything he has to offer to me and I’m clearly working him up.

“Oh, baby.” He gasps out with closed lids.

Heavy, open mouth breathing fills out air while he leans my upper body back to get a better angle at my neck, leaving wet kisses along my collarbone. This is by far the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done in my life, in public with a white man no less.

I’m a man

I spell M, A child, N

That represents ‘man’

Ain’t that a man

He wraps his arm around my torso, bending me back into a dip in time with the guitar. As I come back up, he spins me around so my back’s pressed against him. Our hips continue moving in unison, his fingertips glide up my thighs and with each rotation he brings his hands higher and higher beneath my dress.

I take myself back to that little bar in Mississippi, that woman that used to dance there. She was slow and sensual, letting the melody guide her in scandalous ways. I wind my arm up behind me to rest on his shoulder. I let my hand play with a loose curl on the back of his head, all while he works up my legs.

He dusts over my inner thighs, barely grazing my most intimate area before stopping and letting my dress fall before anyone else in the room can see.

I purse my lips out with a whine of disappointment, needing him more than I’d like to admit. He keeps a hand on my hip bone, the other tipping my head up to meet his lips once more. He kisses away my pout, giving me a small nibble on my bottom lip, my smile pulling it out from between his teeth.

“Hey! Michael, my man!”

Oh shi-

I yank myself out of Elvis’ arms in a panic, frantically searching the area for Michael. His feet emerge on the steps, his head soon coming into view until he’s able to greet the man at the bottom of the stares. What the hell is he doing here?!

Oh no.

My stomach drops, realizing what I have just done. Reluctantly, I peer behind me. Elvis eyes Michael from across the room, chest still heaving from our previous activities, before concentrating back on me and visibly unhappy to do so. With his eyes broken and his smile wounded, he throws his hands lazily in the air in a giving up fashion, before turning his back to me.

I gulp down the guilt that builds up in my throat. Elvis may be viewed as the devil by so many people, but at this moment I feel like the worst of sinners.

Vickie creeps up behind me, snapping my eyes away from Elvis for only a second. “Ooo, you look like you was making love out there.” She gasps proudly, but I fall numb to her jestering, only able to watch as Elvis walks away from me.

Michael laughs at something his friends say until his eyes land on me, then he makes his way over. Vickie notices this and quickly fumbles with fixing my hair and smudged makeup to look like it didn’t just have another man up in it.

“Hey…?” Michael says with confusion in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“The band invited us.” Vickie quickly responds for me, faking an excited smile.

He clenches his teeth, hissing inward. “Yikes. Woulda told you not to show up had I known you were coming. My bandmates can be… a lot sometimes.” He laughs.

Holy shit. “They’re- They’re your band?” I stutter out. Vickie’s jaw drops the same as mine.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you a while back you should talk to them? They know a lot about the music biz, things you should learn. They seemed excited to meet you, though I fear for the wrong reasons.” He chuckles guiltily. “I admit I told them about how stunning you are. But now that you’re here, I can finally introduce you. Maybe even show you our little home recording studio one of our old buddies got set up upstairs. Come on, I’ll bring you over.”

He reaches for my hand, leading me to the rest of the boys. I can’t even count the beats per minute that my heart is racing. “Hey, have you guys got the chance to talk with Honey yet? She’s my girl I’ve been telling y’all about.”

I watch as all of their smiles release from their faces. There goes my singing career.

“Her!? Michael, you-”

“Michael, I’m actually feeling kind of shy right now. Would you mind showing me around the studio yourself? I was hoping for a little alone time with you.” I quickly whisper to Michael, cutting off the bandmate.

His eyes widen at my question before he subtly bites his lip, scanning my face and body, before nodding and dismissing his friends. We hold hands up the stairs, exiting the basement. I know I shouldn’t, but I take one last look at Elvis while I still have the chance to. He has such a vast look of resentment in his eyes that lets me know I’ve betrayed his trust one too many times now. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive me now, I’m in too deep. I can’t believe I let myself get into a situation like this.

I don’t like using Michael for my own personal gain, but I doubt I’d be able to get far on my own in society without the help of some kind of man. If it were a plausible option, I’d love to just go with Elvis and I’m sure he’d be happy to do so, but he could only bring me so far without there being a risk to both of our lives. For now, I’m stuck. So much of my life is out of my hands and I have to do what I can to get by.

Michael opens one of the bedroom doors, revealing a small studio setup. However, before I have much of a chance to take everything in, he immediately traps me between him and the nearest wall, pressing his lips onto mine. I gasp into the kiss, squeezing my eyes shut and fighting back the urge to let my face twist with distaste. Usually, I feel annoyed when Elvis constantly shows up whenever Michael and I are together, ruining my chances at a nice and easy career, but the one time I really need him, he’s nowhere in sight.

“You look so sexy with your hair down like that, baby. And that dress…” He whispers before going back in for a deeper kiss.

After a decent amount of gentle pushes, I’m able to separate him from me, keeping him at an arm’s distance while he looks at me with a semi-irritated look.

“Said you wanted some alone time, baby.” He states firmly in a tone I’ve never heard him use before.

I gulp nervously. “I do, I do! I just- You keep saying how important it is for me to learn more and we’re in the studio. Might as well learn now well I’m here. We can kiss anytime.” I quickly add, just barely convincing him.

He nods, slowly pondering the idea. “Yeah, you’re right. Get on in there, I’ll record you one time.”

My eyes widen in amazement. Just like that? “Uh- what should I sing?”

He shrugs, getting behind all the electronic equipment that I’m insanely unfamiliar with. “Anything you want. Unless you wanted to try ‘Rock Me Baby’ again?”

Hopefully it will be to your standards this time, I think to myself, but I hold my tongue. I bite at my bottom lip, pushing through the door into the recording area. It’s hauntingly quiet and empty. I assume a band would usually be in here as well.

He gives me a thumbs up through the small window and presses the record button, before quickly grabbing a guitar and sneaking into the room with me. He nods for me to start singing into the mic, and follows me with a melody once I begin.

Once done, he stops the machine with a look of astonishment. “Where’d all that come from? That was amazing!” He asks with wide eyes.

Thanks, Elvis taught me. “Whatever, you’re just sayin’ that.” I blush.

“No! I mean it, that was great! I’d even consider sending the recording over to a broadcasting station.”

My jaw drops. “Really?!”

“Yeah, I know a few people and you have a great voice. I really think you could make it far in the industry and I don’t say that to everyone.” He stands with his hands on his hips, proudly looking at me through the door.

I mentally hug myself, grateful for having pushed myself so hard recently. Finally, this would be it for me, so long as his band doesn’t get in my way.

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judasrpc · 6 months

Text

PALIA SENTENCE STARTERS

based on the mmorpg 'palia' developed by singularity 6. add context & change gendered language to your needs !! if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!

Welcome to the general store, pal.

[…] so I guess I should say: welcome to the livin'!

Come back when you get some cash, we'll take care of your needs.

The more you spend, the more you get back. Trust me. That's just how the world works.

What can I do for you?

Make the most out of each day, my friend.

Here I was thinking you'd be too busy setting up to say 'hello'. How goes it?

Are you new in town, or just passing through?

There's something about you that just brightens up my day.

I have a good feeling about today.

I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get sleepy.

So, I think it's safe to say my job is about to get A LOT more interesting.

Are you off on an adventure?

Today is a great day for adventure! Well… any day is a great day for adventure. But today is especially good.

What ails you, my four-legged friend?

You've got a surprise for me?

I wish I knew what you were saying…

Well, if it isn't another friend I haven't met yet!

Hey there! The day treating you alright?

I don't know it [name] was laughing with me or at me, but either way, I appreciate the chuckle.

Tonight, I'm feeling exuberant, with a bit of nostalgic ennui mixed in.

I don't need your company… but it would certainly be appreciated.

Relaxed… I envy you. I don't think I've ever felt relaxation.

It pleases me to see your thirst for knowledge is so difficult to quench.

Back again, are we?

Your mischief and wit know no bounds, neither does your desire for knowledge.

Even the most cunning hunter needs a helping hand once in a while. You hear me? If you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.

You showed up just in time.

I like you and all, kid, but there ain't nobody who can stop me from bein' me.

So, how are you feeling? I am sure this is quite a lot to take in.

Keep that positivity, and you'll overcome any troubles the world offers you.

I was just settling in for my evening meditation. Care to join me?

Name's [name], but you can call me trouble.

I see that look on your face. Up to no good, aren't ya?

Let me guess: You were just dying to see me.

Just so y'know, our doors are always open for ya.

So nice to talk to someone who wants to listen… between you and me, with the kids, it's always in one ear and out the other.

There's nothin' like the feelin' of a job well done.

Some people think it’s boring all the way out here… But I like it.

It is way too early… or did I stay up too late?

You might want to stand back. I’m working on my latest invention, and I’m not entirely sure this thing is stable.

You look as though you have something you’d like to ask.

I chose to keep them around for mostly sentimental reasons.

These daily chats of ours bring me much peace. Please continue to come by, I would miss it if they stopped.

I’m also good at lifting heavy stuff, if you need anything heavy lifted!

You lost? That's okay, I get lost sometimes too.

Oh… sorry I didn’t see you there. I was just a bit distracted. Seems to happen to me a lot…

I am just an intrepid explorer of the supernatural, a detective of the unseen divine, a pioneer of pervasive thought…

I am glad you are still able to experience joy after everything you’ve gone through.

Hello, hello! You have caught me at just the right time.

All it’s taught me so far is how to die of boredom. So stop by again later and keep me entertained, ok?

Are you just going to stand there staring at me, or did you have something to say?

Sometimes I forget how interesting the world is. Like, I’m pretty sure I saw a gnarly looking beetle over there!

Aren’t we feeling bold today?

Oh, good. Someone to talk to who DOESN’T give me a splitting headache.

This had better be important…

I was so caught off guard, I realized I forgot to introduce myself or explain why I'm here.

Why don't you come back when my head's spinning just a little less?

It's good to see you again! I always look forward to seeing your face. But you know, like a normal amount.

It is… good to see you. Why was that so hard to say?

Perhaps you should learn to become more comfortable with solitude yourself.

Oh no, I know that look.

I'm presently ruminating on the darkness of the soul.

I do fear where my thoughts might go if I linger here alone too long…

Unfortunately, I returned with many new ideas and no new direction.

Beyond that, you shall have to answer the question of "what you are" for yourself. As do we all.

You were bound to return one day… why not today?

For now, I enjoy basking in the presence of others.

Hmm… What should I make for dinner tonight…?

You’re talkin’ to me?

Been makin’ a name for yourself lately. Every time I go into town, someone’s singin’ your praises.

#rp memes #rp meme #rp prompts #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #writing prompts #ask box meme #askbox meme #rph #rpc #judasrpc

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

Could you do something like Eddie needing to go to hospital for some minor injury or illness and Steve just having a complete trauma response of oh god last time he was in hospital he nearly died (and wayne being the one to reassure him bc we love uncle wayne in this household)

I must live in the same household as you because I include Wayne in things just to have him be supportive even when it doesn’t make sense to the story 😎

“It’s just a quick trip.”

Wayne was trying to reassure Steve. Trying being the key word.

Eddie was asleep, as he had been for most of the last three days.

His fever was getting higher instead of lower and he hadn’t been able to keep any food down for more than two of the last three days.

His water intake had gone nonexistent, too.

He was pale and sweaty, but visibly shivering anytime Steve looked at him.

It was probably just a really bad flu, but it didn’t help that he’d only been out of the hospital for four months and was still technically recovering from bat bites and nearly bleeding out.

“But what if it’s not?”

Wayne looked at him sadly.

“Son, he just needs some fluids and maybe some better meds than I can get at the drug store without a prescription. He’ll be feeling a bit better within a few hours if we take him.”

“But-“

“Steve. I promise I won’t let nothin’ happen to our boy, okay?”

Steve felt his heart clench at the words.

Sometimes he forgot that Wayne almost lost his only family, his son in all ways but genetics.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Think you can carry him to the truck?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie woke up twice on the way, trying his best to give Steve a smile, but failing miserably.

When they brought him back to get an IV started, Wayne went with him, but Steve had to wait in the waiting room.

Wayne kept checking in, though, letting him know every 30 minutes how things were going.

He was grateful that Eddie had someone like him.

He was grateful he had someone like him.

Four hours later, Wayne was walking out the double doors with Eddie, who was able to stand, but not support himself.

An improvement is still an improvement, though.

“Eds, feeling a little better?”

“Feel like a million bucks. No need to worry.”

Which is what he said when he woke up after his week-long coma.

Steve burst into tears and Wayne gently smacked Eddie on the head.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“What?!”

“Let’s get you home before Steve ends up havin’ a breakdown in the waiting room.”

Luckily, they made it home before Steve really did break completely down.

But at least this time Eddie was awake and holding his hand, talking to him like nothing was wrong.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon #mentions of illness

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visionarystoryteller · 6 months

Text

Moving Forward|| Love For Noella Levesque

*this is apart of ‘Love For Noella Levesque’ OC World*

Noella was sitting at production, looking at her phone as there was a commercial break, seeing a message from one of her friends with a link to WWE. They finally had released a statement. Noella let out a deep breath before opening the link.

Following the news of Noella Helmsley’s exit with WWE, Vince McMahon,CEO, offers a statement- “Noella Helmsley was quite the worker here within the WWE and her hard work will be missed. She had the heart of a leader and can make anyone proud, she would’ve been a great production runner here. she’ll always have a place here.” Good luck Noella!

Noella was flabbergasted beyond belief but had to snap out of it as she heard voices in her headset letting her know commercial was ending and they were back any second. She did her job as usual but harbored her emotions. She worked almost like a robot. Tony took notice and got Jerichos attention. Once Tony pointed to Noella, Chris looked at her and saw her state. He tried to think about what could have sent her into it. He’d known the girl since she was basically a baby. Chris pulled out his phone and saw news updates about WWE. Chris quickly looked at the articles and instantly knew what sent Noella into robotics mode. Chris put his phone down and excused himself and went to sit down next to Noella. Noella kept her eyes forward but felt someone sit next to her. She darted her eyes quickly and found Chris sitting next to her. He didn’t try to look at her, looking forward himself. The pair had been here many times before. It seemed to be a thing Chris and Noella did a lot. Chris was no idiot to how Vince treated her. Literally like the stepchild from hell, but one he employed. Vince constantly made her jump through hoops. Noella had confided in Chris a lot during his time there before he left, he knew Noella wanted to work in production, run show…Vince hated the idea of her running it.

“Feels like we’ve been here before huh” Chris offers. Noella stays quiet, wanting to smile but finding the words of the article stuck on repeat on her mind.

“Right forgot you won’t talk for about 5 minutes, I’ll be quiet” Chris says leaning back in his chair. Noella rolled her eyes. As she watched the screen she saw Max was having an interview in the ring with Tony Shivone. Noella watched max wanting nothin more than to just run to him and hug him. He always made her feel better.

“So you and Friedman” Chris says. Noella sighs.

“Shut up Chris.” Noella says. Chris chuckles.

“Right…” he begins to tap his fingers on the table. Noella looks over at him and Chris can see it in her eyes she’s so confused and hurt. Chris sighs and gives her a sympathetic look.

“You’re better here anyway.” Chris says. Noella shrugs.

“I’m just so…he’s such an asshole” Noella says.

“One who knows how to capitalize off bullshit” Chris agrees. Noella nods in agreement. Noella takes a deep breath.

“Hey Tony” she calls down the table to him.

“Yea Noe?” He asks.

“Can I go take some time, I shouldn’t be longer than maybe 30 minutes” Noella says.

“Yea go ahead, me and the others got it for right now” Tony says. Noella nods and removes her headset and grabs her phone, standing up and leaving.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Max got to production after his segment in the ring and looked for Noella. He didn’t see her sitting there. Maxs eyes scan the production team and lock with Chris’s.

“She’s around here somewhere. She needed some time out” Chris shakes his head with sad eyes.

“Fuck…what happened” Max asks Chris walking closer to him. He crosses his arms at his chest as Chris sits at the monitors.

“Vince McMahon…” Chris says. Maxs closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. Max stiffly nods his head and turns to leave.

“Thanks Jericho” he says as he leaves. Max walks down the halls looking for Noella. When he couldn’t find her he was starting to panic a little. He eventually spotted Britt and stopped her.

“Hey Britt!” He calls. Britt turns around and sees max, she walks over to him.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“Have you seen Noella?” He asks. Britt thinks for a second.

“No sorry” she says. Max huffs and speeds away. Max walked everywhere before he finally saw her coming back into the arena. Max took a deep relieved breath and sped over to Noella. Other patrons were milling around but not paying attention to anything, that’s when Noella heard heavy and fast steps coming towards her. Noella looked up more and saw Max walking pretty fast to her. He must’ve seen it or heard. Noella stayed in place and briefly closed her eyes as she took a breath. When she opened her eyes, Max had just got to her. He looks her over before picking her up, her legs automatically wrapping around him. Noella took a second to respond with her upper body before she wrapped the rest of herself around Max. He held her head down on his shoulder as he turned to walk back to the locker rooms. Noella just stayed wrapped in his arms, tired and sad. Once they got to Maxs locker room, he sat them on the couch, her still wrapped around Max. Max rubbed up and down her back.

“He’s making it look like I would have the production job at WWE. He’s mocking me with the dream position and now that I have it somewhere else he thinks I’m worth it or some shit? What kind of shit is that?” Noella speaks into the air.

“He wants to get to you”

“If people actually knew” Noella says irate.

“You could always say something but you don’t owe him anything Noella. I will tell you this all the time, you owe no one nothing. Well except me because well I’m like I’m your mush” Max says, his cheeks reddening at the end of his statement. Noella had called him her mush because of him admitting he was only mushy feeling toward her. Noella pulled back from his shoulder and looked at him, a small smile trying to break on her lips.

“MJF deserves everything right” Noella chuckles out rolling her eyes. Maxwell chuckles.

“Your funny sweetheart” max laughs. Noella gives a small laugh back.

“I try” she shrugs with a small smile. Max chuckles.

“There’s my girl” max says as he puts his fingers on her chin to pull her closer to him. Noellas cheeks redden before max pulls her into a kiss. His facial hair kissing her cheeks. Maxs hand wraps around in a hold on Noellas hair and tips her head back, giving him access to her neck. He trailed kisses along her neck, traveling to her ear.

“My pretty kissed out girl” Max whispers into her ear before kissing back to her lips. Noella hummed in agreement, her hands gripped onto his shoulders. Max pulled back.

“If I don’t stop kissing you now, I don’t think I’ll stop” Max says quietly, running his thumb along her lips. Noella looked at max with soft eyes.

“Maybe I like the idea of you not stopping” Noella says quietly back. Max groans and leans his forehead on Noellas.

“Sweetheart, you have a show to run” Max strains himself to say. Noella sighs and nods.

“Right, I should probably get back” she says. Max nods and helps her off his lap. Max stand up and pulls her into a hug before she leaves.

“I’ll see you later Mush” she says kissing his cheek. Max shakes his head chuckling with red cheeks.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

In the weeks following Vince’s rebuttal, Noella released a statement.

@NoellaALev: do not take Vince’s words seriously. I worked my ass off for years meeting every goal and expectation to be told I wasn’t going to get the job, or I wasn’t ready.

The wrestling world was set back. Some people thought Noella to be lying and that she’s mad she didn’t get it. Truth was Noellas glad now she didn’t get the job there. Everyone here is caring and fun. Tony likes to keep up his employees morale, often inviting them to barbecues and jags games. It was a whole change of pace from what it was like at WWE. Of course after her follow-up statement was released, it took about maybe a half an hour for her dad to start blowing up her phone. She had been helping some of the crew clean up when her dad’s theme music played. She took a breath and decided to answer it.

“Hello” she says, walking away from the almost cleaned up production area.

“Finally. Hi Noella.” Her dad says.

“Again hello.” She says staring down at her finger nails.

“Vince is pissed.” Her dad says.

“Cool. Don’t care” Noella responds. Paul takes a deep breath.

“Noella…you have to be careful. He can sue you” Paul says.

“Yea and I will sue him for the same thing. Defamation of my work. He needs off his pedestal. If you just called to tell me shit about Vince, I’m uninterested and busy.” Noella says.

“Noella I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks.” Paul says.

“Okay and?”

“Noella please just talk to me.” Paul begs.

“I am right now.”

“Don’t be a smartass Noella.” Paul chides. Noella rolls her eyes but stays quiet.

“Are you liking the job?” He asks. Noella chewed on her lip for a moment.

“Yes a lot” Noella responds.

“That’s good. I am proud of you Noella” Paul says. Noella closes her eyes to keep the tears at bay.

“Look, I have to finish with some things. I’ll talk soon….bye” Noella says a bit choked up before hanging up. She put her phone in her pocket and leaned against the wall taking a deep breath.

#visionarystoryteller #storytellingg #storyteller writes #story teller g #storytellerguniverse #wrestling imagines #aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagines #wwe #AEW fic #wwe fic #wrestling fic #love for noella levesque #MJF #Chris Jericho

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