#sometimes you gotta lean on someone else

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

#alastor x reader #fluff #light angst #radio demon #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #fanfic #short fic #Bun's short fics

[dcxdpdabbles]

So Danny is just a bunch of good that takes a humanoid shape, and we've seen him stretch and warp himself. What is sometimes he just leaves bits of himself behind. He has restoration so he can heal himself and others so when he realizes he left a foot behind he just grows a new one.

Batman: We've found more of the meta, 3 left feet all genetically identical, either were dealing with a cloning operation or someone using a regenerative meta as an organ farm. The most recent finds washed up between Gotham and metropolis.

Meanwhile Danny: I've gotta visit Dani more Madrid was beautiful can't wait to show Jazz the photos, tried to land and eats it, Damn it I though I fixed this!

Danny loves his new power- he likes to call it "Play-Boo" as a pun on playdough because it allows him to shift and change his body as he sees fit.

It was hard to mentally change his appearance as his core was tied to his idea of himself. Still, he can make his hair longer at will, shift to a younger or older version of himself, and even slightly change his coloration, though that takes a bit more concentration.

Danny is sadly unable to shape-shift into someone else. He thinks being able to regenerate is an okay trade-off. Especially when Danny accidentally leaves bits of himself behind with his new warping technique.

It's not the kind of warping he would like- seeing as he could only go a few yards from his original spot- but he hopes with time and practice, he will be able to fling himself from one side of the country to the other, much like opening portals.

But unlike the portals, he won't have to step into the ghost zone as a layaway.

One day, he'll be able to think, "Star City!" and bam will be there without having to destabilize his whole body or lose limbs. Or some internal organs. Like his left kidney.

Which was currently somewhere in Gotham as his warping has developed to the point that he can send himself to the area within eyesight, and he had traveled to metropolis in this method instead of flying to try to perfect it.

"Shoot," He grumbles, falling into a booth across from Dani. She had asked that he visit the big city with her, do a few sights, and then the two would fly downstate to check out some national parks.

"Lost something again?" She asks, sipping the soda she had ordered while waiting for him. Dani had been in the city for about three days and had fallen in love with the diner they were eating at.

She insisted they meet up there just so Danny could try some of their roast beef sandwiches. The favorite food of the two siblings.

"My left Kidney." He sighs, patting his side. Thank goodness his Play-Boo allowed him to not feel pain. He hated to have to feel every time he lost one of his body parts. "I need to eat my troubles away until a new one grows back."

"I'm not paying for your meal."

"But Dani! I'm down a kidney!"

She snorts. "It'll grow back by the time we leave, and you know it. But fine, you big baby, I'll pay for lunch. You have to cover the diner."

Satisfied, he lets her call over a waitress who quickly takes their orders and vanishes to the back, where the cook will likely make "the best damn roast beef" for him. He leans back, asking Dani about her travels.

She eagerly starts talking about the local art she has taken pictures of. At one point, her travels had turned into photo albums, documenting everything she saw and experienced.

She made some money this way, selling some of her photos, but mostly, Dani preferred to keep them for herself or the family.

As she talked about the light reflecting on some large News building- the daily planet- and the great lengths she had to go to get close enough to capture the sunlight, the door to the dinner chimed.

Two men in suits ushered in, one wearing a dark blue that seemed far cheaper than the deep black of his companion. Danny instinctively turned towards the sound, but he quickly looked away as the two men found a seat in a booth furthest away from him.

"I met this guy, Jimmy, who promised to have my photos submitted for a junior photographer contest. It's to help promote tourism, so it's based on the "Metropolis' beauty," but first place is five hundred!" Dani eagerly tells him, her eyes sparkling.

"I know you'll win. You'll make a name for yourself in no time as the best photographer of our era." Danny smiles at his little sister. He lowers his voice "Maybe with that money you win we won't have to sell my organs for a while."

She laughs, adding to the joke like it's second nature, "But you're so fun to harvest! Side's it's not like Vlad will allow you to walk away from the operation. He already has two more kidney orders from Gotham waiting for you."

Danny grimces. "I just lost one this morning. Why does he overbook me so much."

"I can do it if you-"

"Not on your life. I can regerate. You can only cry."

Dani kicks him hard in the shin. She waves her coffee spoon at him like a wizard banishing a wand. "Are you calling me a crybaby?"

"Well, I'm not calling you a cry-lady." He laughs as she scoffs. She opens her mouth to say something when her eyes lock with something over his shoulder. Her face closes down at once, hardening into someone who has traveled through the roughest parts of cities and towns.

Danny used to be worried that her instance of traveling alone at such a young age would ruin her childlike wonder and innocence, but he knew it would be worse to keep her at home.

Even with Vlad finally getting the much-needed help, the fact that Dani has existed for two years now didn't mean she was comfortable with being tied down.

Twisting around, he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The two men are casually eating their meals by the far window- too far for them to hear, the waitress is sitting behind the counter flipping through a magazine, and the chef can be seen through a little window making something at his gril.

What had alarmed Dani so much?

"We have to go," She hisses in ghost speech, eyes never leaving the man in the blue suit. Was it him? He seems to unthreatening with his big bulky glasses and easy smile. "I don't know why, but I don't like that guy's vibe."

Well, he won't argue with her about her gut feelings. Those were never important to ignore. "Let's take the rest of this to go."

She raises her hand, calling over the waitress, flipping open her wallet to leave enough to cover their bill and leave a generous tip. Danny quickly gathers their food in take-home boxes, keeping his body in front of Dani to block the men's view of her.

He's grateful that he had pulled on his hood, as his ears had gotten cold from the warping. With the fact he never turned around once since they walked in and his trusty hood, his face has been kept hidden from the men.

A small victory.

Hopefully, he won't see them again after this.

"Come on." He tells Dani, as she quickly gathers her stuff. "Vlad is going to have my arms and legs if we late meet him. I don't want to be just a torso again."

"I mean, it's your fault for trying to run away." She sighs. "You know how he gets. At least you didn't have to entertain his guests."

"Yeah laying in a dark room hoping to regrow my limbs is much better than letting those freaks touch me." Danny agrees thinking back to the big gala Vlad had invited them to.

To show goodwill and try to move past their hostility, the Fentons' children- Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Dani- had all agreed to go with him, under the condition that they be on their best behavior.

Danny had been running late due to a ghost attack and had chosen to use his wrapping far past the agreed limitation his parents, and Vlad had set for him.

He got to Vlad's castle but none of his limbs had followed him. Mom had been so outraged by his reckless behavior he's been grounded staying in one of the guest rooms without tv to "think about what could have happened!"

Dad and Vlad had merely nodded to their wife's punishment for their child. (And he was still getting used to the idea of Vlad being married to his parents.)

Jazz, Dan, and Dani were left to the gala, where Jazz had intellectual conversations with college professors Vlad was funding or where Dan was talking up some pretty men and women with a drink in hand, Dani as the youngest was left to affluent old ladies pinching her cheeks and giving her backhand compliments on being a "lady."

The Dannies hated being touched by strangers, and those higher-class old ladies had no concept of personal space.

"Don't worry, I'm almost too old soon." Dani chirps, holding the door open for him. "Soon Vlad will have to find other kids to flaunt in front of rich people."

"That would be the day." The two exit the dinner, switching the conversation to the idea of dessert- deciding to search on their phones a local frozen yogurt place.

Neither notice the two men- one whose fork has crumbled in his grip and another who is clicking away on his phone with a look of outer disgust on his face

"Bruce?"

"I'm already messaging Babs. She's following them with the city cameras as we speak. Don't worry, Clark, this "Vlad" isn't going to get away with it."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Practice makes perfect Au #Basically Clark started heard them with his superhearing #He thought it was cute when she talked about the photo contest that quickly grew into alarm at the rest of the convo #Misunderstandings all around #Vlad married Jack and Maddie two years ago #Now he the chill step dad #Danny is 16 #Dani is 14 #Jaz is 18 #and Dan is 17

[ghouljams]

Inspired by this post and @waves-against-a-cliff "Cbf!Johnny" comment. I present more of John Mactavish as the dog he is.

cw: dubcon(reader agrees but just covering my bases), f!reader, overstimulation

Living with Johnny was an easy decision. You've known him your whole life, and with his frequent deployments you usually have the flat to yourself. It's like living alone, except sometimes your best friend is around for "long term sleep overs" as he pitched them. He has his share of the bills on autopay and for the most part it's fun when he's around. You watch movies and throw popcorn at each other. You laugh at his stupid jokes in between complaining about your most recent attempt at dating.

"You know it wouldn't be so bad if any of them were halfway decent in bed," You tell Johnny absentmindedly. He's got his head in your lap, eyes focused on the TV screen as your fingers pet through his hair, barely paying attention.

"Hard getting practice in, not like you can ask a bird to play test dummy," He shrugs. You groan, leaning back against the couch. You guess that's fair, but it's not like you're asking for anything spectacular. An orgasm shouldn't be this hard to come by.

"The special service isn't training you to give head?" You tease.

"No that's just the navy." Johnny grins, finally turning his attention to you. His eyes dart over you, he's got that spark in his eyes that means he has a bad idea. "You know," He rolls the idea over his tongue, "I'm a little out of practice."

You push at his head with a laugh. Johnny sits up rather than be pushed off the couch and grabs your hips to drag you close. You shriek and feel his fingers pinching at your soft sides until you laugh.

"Good for both of us, yeah?" He asks, "I get to practice and you get off."

"You're not funny," You giggle out between fits of laughter. You twist in his grip to crawl away and he pulls you right back. His fingers tighten hard enough to bruise and you whine at the ache. "Ow, Johnny." You kick at him and he catches your ankle, flipping you onto your back.

"Lemme see your cunt." He says and the air rushes from your lungs. You stare up at him, his smile too wide. You've always found his toothy grin to be boyish, charming, but now it feels warning, predatory. You blink at him, feeling your cheeks starting to burn.

"Not funny," You tell him more firmly, turning to tug yourself out of his grip, your fingers twisting against the arm of the couch. You forget how strong military life has made him, too familiar with the scrawny kid you used to beat at footie. Johnny pulls you with a strength you've never felt, hauls you down the couch to lean over you. He's actually starting to scare you a little, the heat in his eyes is too close to burning and his teeth seem so dangerously promising.

"I'm not joking," His fingers drag from your hip, trail down to rest against the soft swell of your mons. He holds your legs open with the hand around your ankle and you struggle to take a breath. "Who else am I gonna practice on? You tell me what you like, yeah? And I'll show you what I can do with my tongue."

"Johnny I don't-"

"Ya were just sayin' you're in a dry spell," He reasons, his fingers rubbing teasingly between the waistband of your sleep shorts and just dipping too close to your clit, "can tell me exactly what you want as long as you want, know ple'ny of hens would love this opportunity."

Somehow that gets you. You wince at the mention of someone else, Johnny's never been one to date but he brings girls home sometimes. Or- no he usually goes to their place. Stays out late drinking with the boys and doesn't come home until late in the morning. You scrunch your brows together and he starts in on the begging.

"Please hen? Please," He pouts, dropping to rest his chin against your hip, "please? Please. Lemme do it. You gotta. Please. Ahm askin' nice an' everythin'. Please, please, please."

"Christ," you push at his face, just so you don't have to look at it anymore, "Fine, but just this once."

"Just this once tonight," Johnny agrees too quickly, already ripping your shorts down your legs.

You expected any sort of hesitation, but it feels like you've barely gotten your pants off before Johnny's pressed his mouth to your pussy. His tongue licks broad stripes, his head wiggles to try and push closer, lips kissing and sucking at your folds so eagerly it makes your head spin. You swallow, he's messy, unorganized, but the enthusiasm is there. Your fingers find his hair again and you swallow down your hesitation a second time. Johnny's your best friend, you can tell him anything, so you can tell him what you like.

"My clit," You start, tugging at his hair, "lick- lick it, um-" Johnny follows directions well, moving easily to flick his tongue against your clit. It's too gentle, maddeningly gentle, you can just barely feel it. "Harder," You suggest, "more pressure." Johnny presses his tongue harder against you, laves his tongue like a wave against your clit with firm pressure. You whine, feel him drag his mouth against you, his beard scratching your sensitive thighs. His tongue maintains its position, licking at your clit with varying degrees of intensity, testing the waters and listening to your soft panting whines.

You meet his baby blue eyes, his pupils blown wide, and he pulls back to let you see the way his tongue moves. Flat and pink, flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves in teasing licks before he lowers down again. "You can s-suck too," You manage.

"Where hen?" He asks, lips closing around your clit and sucking hard. Your next words die on your tongue, your mind flooded with the sudden pleasure. His pulls back, and you try to come up with the words again, watching his thumbs spread your folds to further expose your clit to him. He sucks at it again, tongue working against it when his lips aren't pulling it. He only stops to work his tongue between your folds, dragging the tip around your hole to collect slick before pulling it towards your clit. "Gotta be specific or I won't know."

He's such a cheeky fucking bastard. He sucks at your folds, sucks at your thighs as his thumb rubs over your clit. Johnny's mouth is on your clit every time you open your mouth to give another direction. He works you up and then lets you drop back down, his lips kissing over your like he has all night.

"Fuck," You whine, hips following his mouth as he drags his tongue from your hole to your clit, "Johnny." He hums, lips around your clit, tongue fluttering against the sensitive bud. "Your tongue my-" He pulls off with a wet noise, and holds his tongue against your slit, waiting like a dog for your next order, "-my, uh-" fuck, having to ask for it out loud is embarrassing, and yet the heat on your cheeks has started to spread through your entire body, "-my hole. Please." You tack the politeness onto the end. You feel a little... guilty asking, but it's Johnny and he asked you to do this. (sort of)

"Look at you," Johnny coos, "such a good girl, so polite when ya want somethin'." You throw your arm over your eyes so you don't have to look at him. Your skin burns with embarrassment. You can't look at him right now.

"Shut up," You mumble. You feel his tongue prod at your clenching hole, the squirmy muscle wiggling it's way inside you to lap at your gummy walls. Johnny sucks your slick straight from the source and groans. The noises he makes, the wet slurping and sucking, make your blood run hot. His thumb rubs at your clit, his tongue stretching you out, the combination makes your cunt tingle with pleasure. Your whines sound more desperate than you'd hoped.

Johnny pulls back, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up your cunt. His licks are long and desperate, too eager to taste you, his eyes closed in bliss even as his ears twitch with your every moan. His mouth leaves you, and you pull your head up from where you'd been arching off the couch to see what he needs. Meeting his gaze is a mistake. As soon as your eyes touch his hand comes down hard on your clit. You yelp, as his fingers soothe over the sting. The sharp pain dissolves into heat, tingles over your skin like a rush of goosebumps. His fingers tap at your clit, and you whimper.

"You gotta keep talkin' hen," He presses, his fingers toying with your folds, "or I might start pullin' at the leash."

"You hit me," You whine. He pouts at you, imitating your own pout, and spanks you again. Your hips jump, your head dropping back against the couch. Two more sharp stinging spanks hit you and your stomach clenches. You can feel slick dripping off of your cunt and wetting the couch underneath you, which means Johnny can feel it too.

"Think you like it," Johnny grins, his fingers press into your cunt, two thick digits filling you without warning. You whine, clenching around the intrusion. "I thought you were helpin' me practice," His fingers twist in and out of you, and you grab for his wrist, "Where's my polite girl gone, hm?"

You squeeze his wrist, try to get him to stop fucking you with those delicious twisting jabs. It only makes him fuck his thick fingers into you faster. You gasp, your muscles tightening as he hits that delicious sweet spot you never seem able to find yourself. Moans drip from your lips, his fingers only slowing when Johnny lowers his mouth to suck at your clit again. You try to blink the stars from your eyes, your lashes fluttering until you can't keep your eyes open anymore. Your pleasure crashes into you with shaking legs, your pussy fluttering greedily around Johnny's fingers.

It's not good enough for him. His mouth leaves you, his breath heavy, and his fingers thrust into you hard. You writhe against the couch, your whines turning high and tight. The spring in your stomach coils and coils, holding you at an edge that doesn't seem to have an escape. The begging in your head falls out of your mouth.

"Please, please," You sob, your hips humping Johnny's fingers, "please Johnny, gonna come."

"Oh bonnie thing," He coos, his fingers picking up their pace, "you come as much as you want, my polite girl." His words split through you. Your back arches, your hips jump, the tightness turns into popping heat and wetness, and you come. Your slick squirting up his arm as he makes soft encouraging noises. Johnny's fingers never stop moving, your orgasm drawn up and released again and again until your hips hurt. Your insides ache, your cunt pushing at his fingers desperately for a break.

Your head is spinning, your vision blurry and your body heavy when you find enough energy to open your eyes. You glance down at Johnny, watch the way he rubs his cock against you. His tip is red and angry, drooling, the length is already coated in the slick it pulls from between your legs. You twitch when he nudges your clit, whimper at the sensitivity.

"Johnny?" He isn't looking at you, eyes glued on the mess between your legs, on the glaze of your come coating your pussy, dripping down your thighs. He wrenches his gaze from you only to shush you, leaning over your body to press his lips against your cheek.

"Just practice," He mumbles, "doesn't count, doesn't mean anythin', does it dummy?"

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance.

#cod x reader #x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap smut #johnny mactavish x reader #dub con #I feel like technically this could be considered coercion #but it's consent #really feeling Mr. Mactavish recently #wow writing is really painful right now #it's cuz I'm bleeding ouch

[luveline]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]

fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 

You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 

You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.

It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.

You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 

He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 

Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 

You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 

"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 

Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 

Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 

"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 

His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 

You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 

You shake it off. 

"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 

His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 

"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 

Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 

He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 

"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.

You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 

Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 

Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 

For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 

You wander into the kitchen to help. 

"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 

"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 

"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 

"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 

"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 

You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 

His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 

You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.

It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 

There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 

"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 

It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 

"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 

You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 

Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 

He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 

"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 

You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 

"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 

Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 

Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 

"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 

He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 

“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 

You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 

Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 

Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 

"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 

The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 

"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  

"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 

"Just water will be fine." 

"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."

You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 

Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 

He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 

He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 

"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 

"Three?" you ask. 

His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 

"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 

"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 

"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 

"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 

You look down at the table. 

"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 

"What's that mean?" 

"What?" 

"You know what," you say. 

Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 

"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 

You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 

"That's cruel." 

"What?" 

"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.

"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 

Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 

"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 

"I want to be more than that." 

"You're making fun of me." 

"No." 

Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 

"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 

You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 

"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 

"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 

People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 

Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 

"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 

"No, I am," you say. 

"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 

You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.

Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 

"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 

"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 

"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 

"Exactly." 

Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 

"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 

"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 

Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 

He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.

"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 

Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 

There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 

Eddie takes the plunge. 

He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.

You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 

"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 

Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 

He's not wrong. 

—

Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 

"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.

"Staring." 

"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 

"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 

"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 

"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 

"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 

"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 

Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 

"You would be too–"

"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 

"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 

"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 

Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 

He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 

He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 

It's glorious. 

And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 

He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 

"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 

You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 

"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 

He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 

"You're awful," you murmur. 

He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.

"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 

"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 

"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 

You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 

"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 

"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 

"I know you do." 

Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 

He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 

You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 

"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 

"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 

No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #eddie munson x plus sized reader #eddie munson x plus size reader

[thevoidstaredback]

Here's a shenanigan that I won't be using in Batman's Biggest Hater, but I think it's really funny.

So, we all know that in canon, the Batman persona sometimes slips into the Brucie persona (not hugely, but it does on occasion). And I know we all love a good head canon where the vice versa happens.

Scenario: Pre ID Reveal. The JL are up on the Watchtower for a monthly briefing. Superman and Wonder Woman both know who Batman is, and Batman knows who they are. No one else does.

Just as the meeting has started Bruce gets a call that he'll have to answer as Brucie, but he can't answer in front of the JL. Luckily, he can get away with sending whoever it is to voicemail exactly once. If they call again, he'll have to take it. Unfortunately, whoever it is calls again, so Batman excuses himself and heads to his room on the Watchtower for some privacy.

Thirty minutes later, Batman still hasn't come back. Superman says that he's still on the phone and that it's an important phone call. Wonder Woman agrees and tries to get things moving along. The others know Batman has a civilian identity, but why would a phone call be taking this long? Green Arrow excuses himself to the bathroom and goes to check on Batman.

The door is closed but unlocked, probably because Bats didn't think he'd be in there that long. Green Arrow hears a voice on the other side that he's very familiar with, but it's not Batman's growl. Worried that someone snuck into the tower somehow, Green Arrow walks into the room.

Batman is still on the phone, but he's Brucie Wayne right now, not The Dark Knight: "Of course I will be there, hun! I wouldn't miss your birthday gala for the world!"

Oliver Queen went to school with Bruce Wayne. They dated for a little while in school. Green Arrow is a little bit frightened. He doesn't know what to do, so he stands there in shock as Bruce Wayne Batman jumps from topic to topic while on the phone with whoever this is for another ten minutes.

Batman knew he should've locked the door, but this is an amusing outcome, so he's not too upset. Regardless, he finished his phone call, but didn't slip back into his Batman mindset.

Green Arrow, still in shock and denial about what he's just discovered: "No. Say it isn't true. Bruce? Brucie? Is that...is that you?"

Batman, still in full Himbo Mode: "Ollie! It's about time you figured it out!"

Green Arrow, still reeling: "No."

Batman, being dramatic because this opportunity is too good to pass up: "Yes, Ollie Babe, it's true."

Green Arrow: "I've gotta be dreaming. This is absurd!"

Batman: "I know it is. But you wanna know the best part?"

Green Arrow, despite his better judgement, nods.

Batman leans in real close to his ear and whispers, "No one will ever believe you." He then kisses his cheek and leaves the room. They have a meeting to get back to.

#dc #dc universe #dcu #batman #green arrow #bruce wayne #oliver queen #batman is so dramatic

[moonstruckme]

i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!

no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them

(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)

Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)

cw: weed, mention of transactional sex

dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers. 

“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?” 

You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it. 

Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash. 

You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.

“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.” 

You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.

“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.” 

“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.” 

You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch. 

“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say. 

“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?” 

You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.” 

Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?” 

A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either. 

“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.” 

You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.” 

“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.” 

“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.” 

Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.” 

You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.” 

You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.” 

“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?” 

“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.” 

“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.” 

“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.” 

His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.

Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you. 

“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?” 

You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.” 

“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.” 

For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them. 

“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.” 

He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye. 

“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.” 

You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something. 

“A date?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.” 

“And you…don’t want to have sex.” 

“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.” 

You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.” 

“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”

You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?” 

“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.” 

“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”

#dealer!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x self insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #stranger things s4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fandom #stranger things x reader #tw drugs #tw weed

[sweetsreverie]

could you write a drabble where darry’s girlfriend is totally adored by the rest of the boys and she’s almost motherly to them?

bro... thank you for planting this idea in my head ♡︎

pairing: darry curtis x f!reader wc: 972 warnings/notes: none

You met Darry six months ago while you were at the grocery store. You were clearly having trouble trying to reach something on the top shelf and he offered to help you, retrieving the item and handing it to you with a charming, kind smile. The two of you ended up talking in the spice aisle for nearly ten minutes before you both realized that you had places to be. Darry had scribbled his home phone number on your grocery list before leaving. Since then, you mostly saw him on the weekends when he wasn’t working, or on the rare occasion that he wasn’t totally exhausted after work, you would see him for dinner.

It took a while for him to introduce you to his brothers, and eventually the rest of their little gang. But when he did, he came to notice that the boys treated you differently than anyone else. They seemed to respect you, and they didn’t really pick on you or mess with you like they did other people. That was also partially because you seemed to take care of them, and honestly you didn’t even think much of it. You just found yourself doing little things for them here and there. It started with you cleaning up Darry’s work boots one night, and then you ironed Sodapop’s work shirt one day while he was running late for work, and you’ve helped Ponyboy with his homework on multiple occasions when he was struggling through his math homework. 

It made Darry’s heart swell, especially when you took care of Ponyboy and Soda. Ever since their mom died, they haven’t had a female, or even somewhat of a motherly figure in their life. Darry could be tough on them, so having your gentle nature around was almost comforting for them.

Today you had the day off of work so you spent some time at the Curtis’ house. Darry was working so you tried to clean up the place to take it off of his shoulders. Besides, you sometimes spent the night with Darry and ate dinner with them, so you figure you might as well pull your own weight and treat the place as your own. 

“You know Y/N, this ain’t even your house. You don’t have to clean up after us.” Pony says while he sits on the couch and Johnny sits on the floor near the coffee table, and the two of them were playing ‘go fish’.

“Well- I stay here enough and eat enough of yall’s food, I might as well. And I don’t want Darry to have to worry about it when he gets back from work.” You explain as you wipe down the kitchen table with a damp cloth.

Ponyboy smiles softly at that before he looks down at the cards in his hand. “Well… I know that Darry really appreciates it. He probably don’t show it or say it, but… I know he does.” Pony tells you with a little nod.

“I just know he’s got a lot on his plate, and I don’t see you boys helping him clean up much.” You say, the teasing tone clear in your voice while you grin over at Pony. Pony’s expression turns sheepish immediately, and Johnny even chuckles at your playful scolding.

Later that evening when Darry comes home, you stand in the kitchen with him while you two wait for dinner to finish cooking. After a few moments, Darry turns to you as you’re leaning against the counter.

“You know, Ponyboy told me you scolded him like a mother today.” Darry says, and you groan and shake your head.

“I did not! I was just messing with him-” You insist, and Darry laughs.

“He knows that, doll face. I just… think it’s funny. You really do take care of us.” Darry says with a little smile while he reaches for your hand.

You think about it for a second, and you realize that you really do take care of these boys.

“Well… you’re my boys. And someone’s gotta keep some order around here.” You tell Darry with a grin. You hear the front door open, and you poke your head out from around the doorway to see Sodapop and Steve.

“Aht aht, don’t bring them dirty boots in the house. Leave ‘em on the porch.” You tell the two of them, and Ponyboy laughs as they turn back around and begin to take their boots off on the porch.

When you turn back to Darry in the kitchen, the man is just grinning from ear to ear.

“What were you saying about keeping order around here?” He asks jokingly and you can’t help but laugh.

“Hell, even Dally listens to you. You must have instilled some kinda fear in him or something.”

You laugh at that and shake your head, and you move closer to Darry so you’re tucked in his side.

“But… really. Ever since our folks passed, Pony and Soda haven’t really had… a woman to care for them, or like.. A mother figure. If you know what I mean.” Darry tries to explain, and you nod while giving him a little smile.

“I understand, Darry. Really- and… I’m happy to be that for them. I know I can never replace your mom, and I don’t want to- but… I’m happy to look after them. I know it's hard for you to do on your own.” You explain to Darry, and he lets out a quiet sigh while he looks down at you with an expression of admiration.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Darry asks, and you laugh softly.

“Yeah. Once or twice I think.” You tease him lightly before the two of you carry on with making dinner before the boys in the living room start getting too rowdy.

#the outsiders imagine #the outsiders one shot #the outsiders oneshot #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

7:28

this post by @footburn inspired me in that 'you must type this out before you can do anything else' way so here. this was literally from brain to computer in about 20 minutes.

rated m this is literally just the softest and sweetest fluff, with some implied sexual content discussed

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

"Eds."

"Hm?"

Eddie's sleepy voice whispered against Steve's ear, his breath sending a shiver down his spine.

Steve turned his head as his hand reached over to cup the back of Eddie's head, his fingers gently gripping the frizzy strands of hair sticking out.

"Gotta get up," Steve mumbled.

The alarm clock would be going off in two minutes, a stark reminder that the real world was just outside of their bedroom and unfortunately required putting on clothes and going to work.

If he could, he'd stay like this all day, every day, for the rest of their lives.

Next to Eddie, on top of Eddie, under Eddie, any way he could possibly have him. As long as the sunlight kept streaming through the window and the warmth of Eddie's soft, sleepy smile was in view, Steve would be happy.

"Mm-mm," Eddie shook his head once, nuzzling closer so his next exhale made Steve's eyes flutter closed.

"I have to open today."

Eddie's hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing once before falling away again.

"Stupid."

"What is, baby?" Steve smirked as he watched Eddie's brows furrow as he finally started to wake up.

"Work."

Eddie's eyes fluttered open.

The alarm clock switched to 7:29.

"Call out," Eddie's eyes blinked slowly.

"I can't. It's just me today. Robs would kill me."

"But it'll kill me to watch you get out of bed," Eddie pouted.

Steve sat up, leaning on his elbow, and looked down at Eddie.

Eddie looked back up at him with those wide eyes, bottom lip out like it would actually convince Steve to stay.

The alarm clock showed 7:30.

Steve reached over to shut off the alarm as soon as it started beeping.

He leaned down to kiss his head, then his heart tattoo, then the scar on his side.

"Pleeeease?" Eddie whined. "I have today off. We could sleep and not sleep."

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but want to give in.

They had so few days like this: where one of them didn't wake up screaming or crying from a nightmare, where they weren't in pain the moment their eyes opened, where someone wasn't needing them the moment the sun rose.

It was tempting to take advantage of this moment, of this day, see where it would lead if Steve just settled back down in bed, see if they were able to sleep for another couple of hours.

Maybe wake up with lips against skin, or hands against chests or thighs.

Maybe eat breakfast in bed and make more than one type of mess.

Maybe only get up to take a shower together, scrub off the stickiness of syrup and body fluids.

Or maybe they'd get a call in 15 minutes from Dustin, who should know better than to call before ten in the morning on weekends, but does anyway because he won't admit that he misses them.

Maybe Robin would show up to shove Steve out the door for the shift he's supposed to work, pissed that he'd even try to get out of it.

Maybe Wayne would finally remember to bring that cake recipe he found in an old family cookbook and insist on helping him make it since he knows the secret.

Or maybe Steve would kiss Eddie's lips once before getting up and doing the thing he doesn't want to do today so they can enjoy their peace tomorrow.

Maybe Steve can look at the alarm clock that now reads 7:31 and think about how sometimes love is getting out of a cozy bed and going to work so you have money to pay for those concert tickets that are gonna be the best birthday present he's ever gotten.

"Love you so much, Eds," Steve whispers as he pulls away from Eddie's mouth, already longing for another kiss.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Bring ya lunch?" Eddie's eyes were getting heavy again as he turned his head into the sheets, breathing in the scent of Steve, of them.

"See you then."

At 7:32, Steve managed to go into the bathroom to shower and get ready for his day.

At 7:56, Steve kissed Eddie's forehead as he slept, careful not to wake him.

At 8:02, Steve left a note for Eddie on his way out the door, the same note he wrote for him every morning, left on his favorite mug so he wouldn't miss it when he made his coffee.

Love you, miss you, want you - your Stevie

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #this art has me feral #clearly #i stopped mid assignment to do this

[mayearies]

BAD HABIT miles g. morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY. miles can’t communicate. he has trouble recognizing his emotions, rio knows this. uncle aaron knows this. you don’t know this. you don’t really know anything is wrong, but you always wish him the best. but you can only wish upon the same star so many times until something changes. CONTENTS. miles being head-over-heels, mentioned break up, rio worrying for her son, uncle aaron being against the whole relationship thing, mentioned meeting his parents AUTHORS NOTE. haii i’m not back but ill feed you once every few months also format ib: luvjunie

rio .

mother knows best. we all know this. a mother knows when she sits on the couch and her 15-year-old sits next to her and starts going on about his girlfriend, how he’s everything she’s ever wanted that he’s in love.

but, a mother also knows her son. “miles, let me ask you something.” she sighed, “how much does she know about you? you tell me all these things about her, does she know the same?”

he paused, taking a soft breath, “i mean, no. but she doesn’t seem like she wants to know all that much.”

her brow creased, “if she’s dating you obviously she wants to know more about you. ¿de qué hablas?”

“yeah, i know, but she doesn’t really ask me.” his brows raised then creased a little.

confusion and concern.

“i’ll tell you one thing, girls tend to not say a lot of stuff that’s on their minds,” she cleared her throat, “they want you to tell them first. it takes a while for them to be comfortable with you.”

miles sighed and bit his cheek. now he was doubting you weren’t comfortable with him. you had only been dating a month.

“i just… want you opening up more. your uncle does too.” her voice turned softer. now miles felt a bit bad because he thought she was being unreasonable with the whole uncomfortable thing.

plus, uncle aaron knows he can’t open up like that to her. he barely has time for his hobbies because of this whole… prowler thing. so what the hell can he talk about? not to mention he can’t even talk to his mother about this because she doesn’t know that either.

“talk to her about comics-con!” miles groaned when she said that. “ma. no.”

rio pouted, “you gotta open up at some point, miles. i mean it.” she noticed one of his braids was slightly undone and braided it for him, “you’re like a shell now. i worry about you.”

miles kept quiet, after a bit he leaned on her shoulder and kept his eyes straight. “i know.”

they didn’t say anything else. rio knew miles knew already. he mumbled a ‘sorry’ and they left it at that with a kiss to his head. there wasn’t a point in talking anymore.

aaron .

“i’m tellin’ you, this isn’t gon’ work out well for you, man.” he warned, “someone’s gon’ end up getting hurt. both you, and her.”

“not like you liked her that much anyway.” miles muttered under his breath, sitting on the couch ans watching the news. just the same thing every week. sinister six this, sinister six that… god damn.

“i never said that, i just don’t want you making a mistake,” he huffed.

aaron was more rough around the edges than his mother, that’s for sure. he didn’t hate him but he was so serious sometimes for no reason. takes part in why he doesn’t talk about this stuff with him. not like he has a father figure to turn to anyway.

“how do you know i’ll make a mistake?” miles felt a bit more defensive now.

“because that’s how it goes—you fall in love, think everything is great, something goes wrong, everything crashes, you move on. it’s a cycle.” he paused before saying this next sentence. “how do you think your ma’s marriage went? think about it.”

miles softed a bit, but he was still a bit irritated. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

he knew that. but it was a perfect example of the worst thing that could have happened. miles sighed, sinking into the couch and turning off the tv. there was tension, and it filled the silence.

“you’re saying i shouldn’t be in love? it’s that bad to like someone?” he kept his eyes on the ceiling.

aaron sighed, finding a better approach to it. “be in love all you want. tell her all about you. your hobbies, what you like. you know how closed off you are, man.” he paused, “just… don’t tell her too much. don’t make a stupid mistake.”

“…alright.”

present day .

miles walked through the apartment door, looking the same as normal. but rio sensed something was off. “qué pasó?”

“nothing. hi, ma.” he kissed her forehead before walking off down the hallway. he didn’t really act like this. his mom could always tell the difference.

“how are you and your little girlfriend doing?” he chucked lightly, trying to make light.

“oh, uh… we broke up.” there was a long silence, “like, today.”

rio was not entirely surprised, but she couldn’t help but ask why. miles shrugged, not facing her.

“just because.”

@ MAYEARIES ‘24

#!⋆⭒˚｡⋆ delivery! ‹𝟹 💗 #miles morales #miles g morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #42 #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #miles morales earth 42 #earth

[erwinsvow]

have you ever written something where shy reader is too anxious to tell someone they got her order wrong or tell the lady at the nail salon she didn’t exactly like the color/shape

no but omg this is soooo real

getting your nails done was always fun—though sometimes, you leave with something completely different than what you came in wanting.

you found it hard to speak up to anyone, your nail tech included. instead you'd nod politely and smile sweetly when they were doing your nails.

it was just nails—it didn't matter if they were a little shorter than you wanted, or if the pink was a little more bubblegum than baby. they looked pretty and you avoided someone getting upset with you—you considered it a win-win situation.

and it was beginning to work itself out—you had discovered your favorite nail lady, the one who always understood what you wanted and didn't make you nervous when you'd show her the picture you'd brought for inspiration. and going today, you were expecting your appointment to be with her—like always.

until you found out she was home sick. normally you'd wait—but you were at the salon today specially since you were going to a party with rafe tonight, and the idea of going with your bare and currently very ugly nails seemed completely out of the question.

and even worse—rafe had brought you. you didn't want to turn to him and tell him to take you back home, not when he'd driven you all the way here and agreed to sit with you even though you're sure he doesn't want to.

so you suck it up—you show the new tech your photo, a pretty pink and white french tip with some bows and flowers, and hope for the best. she's doing fine, it looks like the picture for the most part.. except your nails are looking more square than round, and it's a little too long for your taste. she's about to start painting, telling you to go wash your hands.

you get up, heart thudding uncomfortably. you hate this about yourself—hate it worse than anyone else could. the nail lady couldn't care less if you ask for them shorter and rounder, but you can't bring yourself to do it. instead you stare down at your nails in the sink and feel like you might start crying.

rafe has a sixth sense—he can always tell when you're feeling upset. you don't know how he does it, just that he does.

all he had noticed was that you had stopped smiling back at him every few minutes about half way into the second hand getting done—and then just now, when you got up, you didn't look at him on your way to the sink.

rafe follows you there, a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. he's got a candy in his mouth, plucked from the bowl they keep near the entrance.

"what's wrong?" he comes out a little raspy, his tongue red.

"nothing," you reply, too quickly. you look up at him with your watery eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

"c'mon, kid. what is it? someone say something?" he asks, turning around to where you were sitting and the two techs in the vicinity.

"no, no. nothing. it's just-" again, you hate this. you don't know why it's so hard to find the words, why they just don't want to come out. you swallow it down.

"what? you gotta tell me if you want me to help," he says, quieter, leaning in a little. you feel better immediately when he says it, but you still can't look up at him. you stare down at the too-long, too-square acrylics.

"it's not.. exactly what i wanted. i don't know how to tell them. i don't want them to be upset-"

"is that it?" rafe asks, and you look up quickly, eyes getting teary again. is he mad at you too now? your expression gives you away, lips turning into a sad pout. "baby, she doesn't care. they get paid either way. gotta ask for what you want."

"but i don't want her to-"

"s'okay. i'll tell her. c'mon. don't cry, it's fine."

you follow rafe back—cheeks burning with embarassmnet. bad enough that you can't ever speak up for yourself, now rafe is involved and he probably thinks you're some kind of child-

"stop overthinkin'. it's easy for me to tell her, it's harder for you. so i'll tell her, okay?" looking up at your boyfriend, your ears ring a little. you hear him talk to your tech—you see his mouth moving, maybe making out shorter and she likes round, okay?

you can't hear anything, it feels like there's music in your ears. the tech nods and smiles at you, fixing them and before your very eyes, your nails look exactly how you wanted them to. rafe pulls his chair closer to yours, a hand on your knee.

his words keep repeating in your head—stop overthinking. and like always, you listen to rafe.

[mandarinmoons]

Hi! i saw the other request and this came to mind!

reader and reid are in a situationship (not relationship) one night reader gets drunk and kisses someone else and reid sees it and gets jealous and kinda disappointed?? but he has to take her home, she asks him to stay but he doesnt wants to cajse hes mad Andd idk something like that but with happy ending pls 😩 if u dont want to dont do it Its ok <3 <3

Ofc i want to <3

You and Spencer had quite a unique relationship. At work you two were professional coworkers who were also good friends, but behind closed doors you two could be considered as more than friends. Cuddling, the occasional kiss or two or full blown making out, it was something you two kept to yourself. You both previously had bad luck in the romance game and would agree to keep things casual, nothing serious but as humans are, have a need for love and care, both of you agreed to offer it to one another.

It was hard to keep it to yourselves at times. Sometimes you had a desperate need to be in Spencer’s arms, but you were at work and had to keep your needs to yourself until both you and Spencer were in the safeness of your four walls.

One night you and the team headed out for drinks to celebrate a case that took over 3 months to solve. You were going to get wasted and if you were going to end up getting all touchy feely with Spencer you could attest that it was the alcohol talking, a solid alibi and no one would think that there was something going on between you and your close coworker.

Some hours in and a few cocktails and shots later, the booze had taken its effect and made you into a giggly and affectionate mess. After your first drink you were slightly cuddling into Spencer’s side, but now you had your arms wrapped around his neck and occasionally pressed a few kisses against his cheek.

"Who knew Y/N was so affectionate,” Emily laughed.

“Yeah what’s a man gotta do to have ‘em here all up in my arms,” Derek chimed in.

You scoffed and tightened your hold on Spencer’s neck, “If you know how to turn yourself pretty like Spencer over here, then you can give me a call.”

The whole team chuckled and a blush creeped on Spencer’s cheeks, although he did love the affection he was receiving from you he was a bit nervous about your little shared secret coming to light.

“Y/N, hey, I’ll get you some water okay? I don’t want you to have too bad of a headache in the morning.”

“Fineee,” you pouted as Spencer lightly took a hold of your hands and unraveled them from around him. You watched as he walked off and chuckled to yourself as your eyes did land on his rear, and you liked what you saw.

In your head for what seemed like 10 minutes, which was probably only 2, you stood up and headed towards the bar to find your special friend. You leaned your arms on the counter to try and steady yourself and felt a hand on your arm.

“Hey, you okay there?”

You nodded and looked up to see Spencer looking at you with concerned eyes, or what looked to be Spencer. Your vision was a bit blurry, but you could still make out the sharp jawline and brown eyes that you adored.

“I missed you.”

“Did you?” the man chuckled and caressed your arm.

You nodded and leaned closer and pecked his lips lightly, which turned into a deeper kiss a moment later.

All of a sudden you felt yourself be pulled back by a forceful tug, “What’re you doing?!”

You looked up and saw a very clearly heated Spencer, his eyebrows were furrowed and you could make out a vein protruding from the side of his forehead, the man you had just kissed was not him.

“Spence I-”

“I’m taking you home, now.”

Spencer’s grip on your arm was gentle yet firm as he dragged you to the table the team was sitting at, took your coat and said good night to everyone, before turning around with you in his arms and headed to his car.

The ride back to your apartment was silent. You may have been inebriated, but you could tell that Spencer was pissed. Why should he be though? You weren’t a couple so what’s the problem? Well, the boundaries you both set up were kind of blurry and over time you both seemed to cross them more and more. You wouldn’t be able to lie to yourself that you didn’t feel something towards him if you were to see Spencer kissing someone else, the thought made your stomach churn, or maybe that was the alcohol? No, this was different.

After helping you up the stairs, lying you down on the couch and draping a blanket over you, Spencer turned on his heel and turned towards the door.

"Spence, wait!”

Spencer turned around and clenched his jaw as he glanced at you, you had never seen him be this pissed off.

“I thought that it was you I… I’m sorry,” tears pricked to your eyes and your voice wavered, you couldn’t lose him, not right now.

Spencer sighed and cast his eyes down before slowly moving towards your way and sat down next to you. You hugged him and he wrapped his arms around you gently, one of his hands cradling your head.

"Please stay.”

Spencer nodded and tightened his hold on you, “I will sweetheart, don’t worry.”

Soon enough you fell asleep on his shoulder and Spencer moved so you both were laying down on the couch. He pulled the blanket over both of you and pulled you close to his chest, kissing your head and smiled when he felt you nuzzling into his neck.

Spencer knew that he couldn’t keep this up any longer, his feelings for you had grown quite strong and he didn’t want to keep sneaking around. He knew that it wasn’t other people’s business as to what was going on in his love life, but it felt unfair on you and him that he had to keep this under wraps when you were the reason he was so happy after a long while.

He sighed as he caressed your back and admired your peaceful face. This was it, he had to talk to you in the morning.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence

@sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

#spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x gn! reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid hc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds headcanon #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[highdefhoetry]

Just for the night.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, lots of sexual tension and buildup, casual sex/hookup, premature ejaculation, oral sex (vaginal), blowjobs, penetration (brief vaginal fingering & penis in vagina), spanking, biting, light breast play/nipple sucking, cumming in mouth, missionary and doggy style, creampie, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, no use of (y/n)

summary: a wayfaring group of pirates come into your tavern while you're on the clock, and a certain swordsman catches your eye.

author's note: i JUST started watching one piece and i've only made it to the reverse mountain arc, this fic takes place sometime in between arlong park and loungetown!

It had been an interesting night at work. The town was throwing some kind of festival, quite common during this time of the year, and the bar had been nonstop busy ever since your boss had opened the doors. You lost count long ago of how many beers you’d poured, how many wooden kegs you’d refilled, how many plates of piping hot food you’d served, and how many times you’d avoided unwanted groping from eager hands. You’d earned some good money, though, which almost made it worthwhile. 

The most interesting part of the night, however, were the new faces who’d shown up earlier that evening. A ragtag group who claimed to be pirates had come into the tavern for a drink and a good time after getting wind of the local festivities, joining the celebration that had begun a couple hours ago. The self-proclaimed captain of the weirdos, a rubber man donning a straw hat and flip flops, had joined some of the patron in a meat eating contest and was currently on his way to beat the reigning champ. His navigator, a young redhead with a charming smile and big, bright eyes, was schmoozing some poor bastard who was too drunk to notice her slipping his wallet out of his pocket. Then there was the blonde Frenchman, a casanova type who was hitting on a few of your giggling coworkers. A cigarette dangles from his lips, which he ashes on the floor. 

Truly, they were the definition of a motley crew.

It’s now halfway through your shift, and orders have died down considerably. Most of the patrons are passed out at their tables while others are being carried home by their companions. The tavern is still pretty lively, but you manage to sneak away for a moment and catch a breather. You pour yourself a cup of water and take a sip as you watch the chaos unfold. 

As you continue looking around, silently observing the chaotic scene, the sight of sea green catches your eye. You notice a stern-looking man mulling in the far corner, sipping on a giant mug with a frown. He looks a bit out of place, but you remember seeing him come in with those straw hat freaks earlier. You hear the rubber man call out to him, something about a dance-off or whatever, and the green-haired man barks out a loud “No!” before crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall again with a scowl.

Very interesting, indeed. 

Who could this man be?

“Are you serious?! That’s the Roronoa Zoro?”

“I’m not lying!! Look at his waist, don’t you see those swords he’s carrying? Only Roronoa Zoro uses the three sword technique! It has to be him!”

The annoying, high pitched voices of your coworkers garners your attention. You turn to look at the three frightened waitresses, who are currently huddled behind the bar in an attempt to avoid the scowling man’s gaze. 

“Someone’s gotta bring him his sake. He ordered it like an hour ago.”

“No way. I’m not going near him! He’ll probably kill me just for looking at him!”

“Well I’m not going over there! I’m not risking my life for a few dollars.”

It was the perfect excuse to approach him. You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance as you grab the tray from their hands.

“Fine. I’ll go. You damn scaredy cats.”

Your comment earns a few glares, but you pay them no mind. You fill the giant mug with sake and waltz over to the sullen swordsman. Someone starts playing the accordion; someone else grabs a fiddle. The tavern turns into a dance floor, and its drunk patrons cry out in excitement while they fall over one another trying to get there.

You approach this so-called Roronoa Zoro, but before you can get a word out, he says,

“I’m not going to dance, if that’s what you came to ask me.”

You raise a brow in confusion. “What?”

“You came all the way over here to talk to me, didn’t you? I can tell you got somethin’ you wanna ask. Get it over with already and stop wasting my time.”

Was this guy for real? You scoff and slam the tray down on the table in front of him.

“You ordered sake, didn’t you?”

He narrows his eyes. “How’d you know that?”

“I work here?”

You give him a perplexed look, and he responds with a wide-eyed stare before mentally facepalming himself. He grabs the mug from the tray and mutters a “took you long enough” before taking a huge gulp. 

Up close, you can see more of his features. He was tall, handsome, and quite muscular. His skin was tan, kissed by the sun after many days spent traveling the seas. He donned three gold dangling earrings in his left ear and had a black cloth tied around his forearm. His muscled arms bulged in his thin white shirt, and you could see a thin sheet of sweat on his exposed chest. Then, of course, there was that odd seagreen colored hair, which, as far as you could tell, was completely natural. You’d never seen anyone who looked like him before, and it intrigued you deeply. You couldn’t stop staring, even when he caught you looking from the corner of his eye.

“I take it you’re not a fan of dancing?” you ask in a weak attempt to make conversation.

He grunts in response. With arms crossed again, he lets out a sigh and gazes at the crowd on the dance floor, his expression cold and unfriendly.

He must not have been a fan of talking, either. You’re about to leave when suddenly your eyes meet, and his gaze captures your attention. Those eyes… something about them made it impossible to look away. They were deep chesnut brown, and held both a fiery passion and a deep sadness that tugged at your heartstrings…

“What’s the matter? Is there somethin’ on my face?”

The gruff voice snaps you out of it. You shake your head vigorously.

“No! It’s just… you’re not from around here, are you?”

He scoffs, shifting in place.

“No. I’m not.”

“You must be with that weird pirate crew who came in earlier.”

“Yup. That’s my idiot captain over there,” he juts his chin in the same direction as the straw hat man, who was laughing and jumping around like a little kid. You stifle a laugh, wondering how the hell these two ended up on the same crew together. 

“And you are?”

“Roronoa Zoro. His right hand man.”

So your coworkers were right, after all. You’d never heard of him, but apparently he was well-known. You didn’t see why they were so scared of him, though. He seemed like a regular guy, apart from the three swords and grumpiness.

“Well? Are you gonna tell me your name or what?”

“Oh!” You snap yourself out of it and tell him your name. He grunts again.

“Huh. That’s fitting.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. Nevermind.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face. Subtle, but noticeable. That must’ve been his strange way of teasing you. You decide to let it go for now.

“Why are you sulking around back here? Don’t you wanna join in on the fun?” you ask, keeping your tone light and playful.

Zoro raises an eyebrow and takes another sip of his sake, his eyes fixated on the lively crowd.

“Too loud in there… Luffy’s laugh gives me a headache.”

“Yeah, it has gotten a bit rowdy. Tends to happen at this time of night.”

He nods in agreement. “So… don’t you need to get back to work or somethin’?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” he murmurs. “Just wouldn’t want you to get caught slacking off.”

You give him a cheeky little smile. “I’m hiding. It’s been crazy busy all night and I need a breather.”

He grunts again, leaning back against the wall.

“I don’t blame you… I hide from Luffy quite often.”

He says it with a smirk, but chuckles when he looks over at Luffy and the others. He was acting like he was irritated, yet he spoke of his captain with fondness and admiration. You could tell he cared about him deeply, despite his grievances. It gave you a warm fuzzy feeling that made you smile again.

“My shift’s almost over, anyway. And most of the other waitresses are caught up with that French guy over there,” You point at the blonde guy on the other side of the room, who’s still surrounded by your swooning coworkers. 

“Tch. Typical.”

The conversation lulls again, but it feels less awkward this time. You lean back against the wall, mirroring his body language, and go back to being a silent observer. He appears to do the same. He seems a bit more relaxed, though. He’s not as closed off as he was before you started speaking.

“Soooo… how’s the sake?”

He glances over at you, sets the mug on the table.

“Actually, it’s very good. I’m liking it a lot. Been awhile since I’ve had the good stuff.”

Your eyes dart to his drink. “I’ve never had that kind before.”

“You want some…?”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

You grab the mug before he can say another word and take a huge swig. It goes down smoother than you thought it would. The taste is light and refreshing, the perfect drink to end a long night of work.

“Damn, that’s good sake! I can’t believe I haven’t tried it until now!”

He chuckles quietly, a small smile creeping up his face. It was kinda cute. Made him look even more handsome. Although his grumpy scowl was cute in its own way, too.

“You have good taste.”

“Mind if I have another?”

He gestures his hands towards the mug. “Be my guest.”

The two of you hit it off, chatting about this and that for some time while the party raged on around you. The sound of lively chatter fell to the background as you inched closer to one another, until it felt like you were the only ones in the room. As the night went on, more and more people started to head home, except for a few of the regulars and the straw hats who lingered in the main room. By the time your coworkers started closing up, you were already pretty buzzed from the egregious amount of sake you’d had. You reach for the bottle again but realize it’s empty.

“...Ah, sorry, I drank a lot of your sake…” you frown, feeling a little guilty for drinking most of his order. “Want me to grab you another one? It’ll be on the house.”

“Eh, it’s fine. But thanks,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he turns towards you, towering over your head with one arm braced on the wall beside your head. “I’m sure.”

He’s so close. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating. The smell of sea salt and sweaty man wafts in the air. His eyes bore into you, analyzing your face and body, as if he’s waiting for your next move.

“So…” you start, rubbing your lips together. “Did you all get rooms here for the night?”

“We did. Why?”

You shrug, trying to force back a smile.

“Just wondering.”

He raises an eyebrow, looks you up and down.

“If you wanna see me so bad, you don’t need to be coy about asking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure ya don’t.”

Pause. Something crashes down on the floor; you both look just in time to see Luffy falling down with a large meat bone sticking out of his mouth. You splutter out a laugh, but are silenced when a strong hand takes your chin and pulls it back towards Zoro, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You’re not being very honest,” he growls, and your heart skips a beat.

“That’s rich, coming from a pirate,” you bite back, hiding how flustered you are behind a bratty facade.

“...Hah, touché.”

He lets go of your chin, but keeps his eyes on you. There seems to be an impasse. The two of you dance around your subtle attempts to flirt, as if waiting to see which one will misstep first. The tension was so thick you felt like you could reach out and touch it with your hand. Those beautiful brown eyes of his gaze deeply into your own, never faltering for even a second.

“It’s getting late,” he says.

“It sure is,” you respond, breath hitching in your chest. “Do you need an escort to your room?”

His eyes grow wide for a moment, then he lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. 

“Now you decide to be bold.”

He gets off the wall and nods his head toward the staircase leading up to the guest rooms. You move to follow him, but stand up a little too quickly and feel a rush of blood go to your head, stumbling as you take a step forward. He catches you, grabbing your waist with his strong hands before you can fall.

“Jeez, are you really that drunk?” he grumbles, placing your arm across his shoulders and steadying you with an arm wrapped around the small of your back. You’re really not that drunk, but there’s nothing wrong with a little white lie and some bad acting to get close to someone, right?

“Shut up…” you mumble. “I just drank it too fast, that’s all.”

His firm hand, his strong arms carrying you, his low baritone voice growling in your ear… he really was handsome… or maybe it was the sake getting to your head. Either way, you feel your cheeks flush as he leads you upstairs, taking cautious steps to ensure you don’t trip and fall.

For some reason, it takes longer than it should have to get there. He stumbles around, checking each door and dragging you down every single damn hallway with you leaning against his body for balance. You start to get the sense that he doesn't know where the hell he's going. That is, until you finally stop at the last door on the left.

"Are you sure this is the right room?" you ask, suddenly feeling uncertain.

“Tch... shut up you damn lightweight…” he mumbles while fishing out his key. Once he turns the lock, you both go inside and shut the door behind you.

It’s a small, simple room, but one that serves its purpose. The bed takes up most of the space, and fortunately it’s just large enough to fit two. You plop down on the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy, and pat the empty space beside you. 

He lets out a small sigh before sitting down.

“Just so you know, it’s… been a while,” he grumbles sheepishly in a low voice, scratching the back of his head. You smile and put your hand on his thigh, slowly caressing it as you climb further and further. Your palm brushes against his crotch, where you feel his hardened cock poking through his pants.

“That’s alright. Same for me.”

You lock your gaze with his, falling silent as you both drink in the moment. Then, in tandem, the two of you lean forward. You feel his lips press against you, and the taste of sake greets your tongue. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. You respond by putting a hand on the back of his neck, gently scratching at the buzzed hair on his scalp. He moans deeply, kissing you harder. Your tongue dances with his, your teeth gently bite his bottom lip. 

Your clumsy hands fumble as you try to undo his belt buckle and zipper. Eventually he lends a hand, yanking his pants down his legs before tossing them across the room along with his heavy boots. You hear a small crash; he cringes with furrowed brows while you giggle. But your laughter dies down when you look at his newly exposed cock and see what he’s been hiding under those clothes.

He’s huge. You’re not sure how big he is, but his dick is the biggest you’ve ever seen up close. It’s not that girthy, but makes up for that in length alone. If you had to guess it was at least 8 inches. It’s slightly paler than the rest of his body, a faint shade of tan lighter than his arms and legs. And it’s almost perfectly straight, with no curves or crookedness. You watch in awe as it throbs and pulses.

Without a word, you lean forward and take him into your mouth. You start off slow, simply sucking and licking the tip, and as soon as your lips wrap around his cock he lets out a long, deep, groan of pleasure. His dick tastes salty, but clean, as if he showered recently. Hygienic, for a pirate. After teasing him for a bit, you take his member into your mouth and slowly drag your lips and tongue down his shaft…

But suddenly, he lets out a strained cry, and you feel an explosion of warmth in your mouth. His dick pulses rapidly as he lets loose his load, filling your mouth with a salty, warm taste that you swallow instinctively. It goes limp after a few seconds. He pants heavily as he pulls it from your mouth.

“...Gahhh… Sorry…” he mutters, his face turning beet red. He won’t look at you, won’t even lift his head. It was cute seeing him all embarrassed. You couldn’t be mad that he came so quickly; after all, he’d warned you ahead of time, and the fast cum gave you something of a power rush. You wanted to tease him playfully, but figured he didn’t need another bruise to his pride right now.

Instead, you grab his chin and force him to look at you. You say nothing, leaning forward to kiss him so he could taste himself on your lips. At first he’s tense and uncertain, but soon he relaxes when he realizes you’re not going to kick him while he’s down. 

The kiss gets more intense, more demanding; he grabs the back of your head and gently pulls your hair at the base of your scalp, eliciting fluttered, airy moans from your lips. He kisses across your cheek, down your jaw and neck, lips fluttering against sensitive skin. Your moans grow louder when he tears your shirt, pulling the sleeves down your shoulders to expose your breasts. A shiver runs through you as your nipples are exposed to the cool air. He takes them in his mouth, sucking and licking your areolas while his hands grope and play with your soft tits. His fingers tease the skin, stroking the undersides of your chest, playing around to see what kind of reactions he can get from you. You alternate between cries of pleasure and fits of giggles, feeling a bit overstimulated. 

He pulls away for a moment, only to bark out an order.

“Lay down.”

You comply, letting him pull your shirt and skirt down over your hips and legs so he can admire your nude body. He pauses for a second to relish the sight of your nakedness before grabbing your thighs and holding them apart. Then, he buries his handsome face in your mound, right where it belongs. You moan loudly while he kisses your folds, presses his tongue against your clit, licks the entrance to your hole. It feels so fucking good, you find yourself clawing at his scalp in attempt to grab fistfuls of his short buzzed hair. He chuckles, confidence restored now that he’s brought you to the edge. He stays there, committed to your pleasure, until he’s certain you’re ready to take him. You feel his stick one of his thick fingers inside you for a moment, gasping as he tests your wetness. He smirks down at you once he feels how slippery you are.

Your eyes glance down quickly. His dick is fully erect once more. This man got hard just from eating you out; it makes you want him even more. He leans forward, bracing himself with both arms beside your head, kissing you while guiding his cock into your pussy. You gasp again when the tip pushes inside and cry out when he shoves the rest in without warning. He quietly grunts out a raspy "fuck", and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. He lets out short, jagged breaths as he pumps himself inside you. In and out, in and out, steadily increasing in intensity and speed. The smack of your skin against his in rhythm with your moans.

He slows down after some time, panting heavily while he pulls out. His cock still throbs as he holds it, and from his expression you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to explode. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and gives you another command.

“Turn around.”

You flip onto your stomach, then raise your ass in the air for more. His lips trail a path of kisses on each cheek, biting down now and then to keep you on edge. He chuckles every time he hears your little cries, bites a little harder to see how far he can go. Then suddenly, he takes his spanks you hard with his huge hand, causing you to shriek in both pleasure and pain.

“Ouch! God damn it, warn me next time!” you turn back to glare at him, getting a cheeky grin in response. He grips your cheeks, giving you another hard smack. 

“Here’s your warning.”

You don’t bother complaining this time. It feels too fucking good. The way he’s grabbing your hips, pushing his tip inside before ramming his dick into your hole while you cry out over and over, spanking you again and again until your cheeks are reddened and sore. From this angle he’s hitting all the right spots. You feel mindless pleasure, like your brain’s gone blank and all you can think of is his deep thrusts and sexy, guttural groans. He’s quiet, yet intense, focusing entirely on fucking you as hard and deep as possible. An orgasm rips through your body, sending electrifying shocks rippling every single nerve ending, but he doesn’t stop there. He’s close, you can sense it. A few moments later he comes again, releasing another heavy load inside you. His cock throbs as his cum fills you up, and he doesn’t pull out until he’s damn finished. And when he is, he collapses on the bed next to you, with a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his bronze skin.

You roll onto your back, taking a minute to catch your breath. You listen to your own unsteady breathing along with his, enjoying the quiet moment and the leftover waves of pleasure washing over your body. After a few minutes, you turn over and start to say something before realizing he’s fast asleep. He snores quietly, arms resting behind his head as he peacefully drifts into slumber.

He looks even cuter when he’s asleep. You laugh softly and nestle yourself in a cozy spot next to him before falling asleep yourself.

—-

The next morning, you carefully unwrap yourself from him and grab your clothes lying haphazardly on the floor. You start to dress yourself, but realize your shirt’s completely wrecked thanks to Zoro’s dumbass ripping it off your shoulders last night. You mutter in irritation and grab his shirt instead. He owed you that much.

As you make your way out of the room, you take one last look at the handsome swordsman and blow him a kiss goodbye before carefully shutting the door behind you. 

You had a lot of fun, even if it was just for the night. You’ll always remember him for that. Alas, he was a pirate, and soon he’d be gone, heading back to the sea in search of adventure.

But he would always know where to find you. 

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece smut #minors dni #pirate sex lulz #you x zoro #zoro x you

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 3

Grass Talks (Literally)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: Soft, lowkey ooc Bakugou but thats bc I imagine him to be a lot more mellow as an adult. Little bit of a serious talk, but nothing crazy. Readers quirk is also mentioned

Word Count: 1k

previous chapter

The date had been going well so far, and the sun was even beginning to set since now it was almost 7:00 pm.

You two were currently lying on your backs together, looking up at the sky filled with clouds, stomachs full of yummy food.

"That one looks like a giraffe, or something else with a long neck." You said point up at a cloud.

Bakugou hummed, "Nah, I think it's a flower or something. Don't you see the stem? And there's even petals around it."

Tilting your head at a different angle, you tried to see what he saw.

"I don't see it! I thought I would, since I'm used to seeing flowers all the time..." You said while still looking up in wonder.

Bakugou sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, "That's right. You're a florist ain't you? What made you wanna do that?"

You stayed lying down and answered him, "Yeah, I've been a florist for a few years now. I chose it because of my quirk."

"What is your quirk anyways? Is it something with plants and all that crap?"

"Yep. I can talk to plants, so taking care of them is much easier and I love being able to help others that are struggling with their own plants."

Bakugou rubbed his hand along the grass, "So me doing this... is it hurting the grass?"

You closed your eyes and listened, hearing the grass ask what it was that was rubbing all over them.

"It's not hurting them, but they can feel it."

He pulled his hand away. "What about walking on the grass. Does that hurt 'em?"

"Sometimes it can. If you're walking normally, then no. But if you're stomping all over them, then yes it does hurt them." You said, finally sitting up and facing him.

You leaned over and ran your hand along the top of the grass very lightly, hearing the voice of the grass sigh at the feeling. You learned early on after developing your quirk that most plants actually enjoy being pet, if you can call it that.

"They like it when you do this to them. Just make sure you do it really gently." You said while showing him how to pet the grass.

He followed your directions with a grunt and did the same motion as you.

You laughed lightly, "Petting grass is kind of silly now that I think about it. I guess it's different since I know that the grass likes it."

He shook his head and pulled his hand away, "It's not. I think it's interesting. I have some plants at home, now I'm wonderin' if they're happy with me."

You giggled at that, "I'm sure they are. But thank you. I always felt like my quirk wasn't super useful since I couldn't be a hero, y'know?"

"You don't gotta be a hero to have a useful quirk. Everyone can find a way to use their quirk, trust me."

You smiled softly, "You know what, you're really sweet. You don't portray yourself like that on the media at all."

"I ain't sweet." He said looking away shyly.

"If you say soooo." You cooed.

He smirked lightly and looked at you, "Thanks for uh, being genuine by the way."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be genuine?"

"I mean like, almost everyone I've met just wants to be with me because I'm a hero. It just makes dating a lot harder, I guess."

You frowned at his words. You knew there were people who were out for money, but to play with someone's feelings like that? That was just heartless. You knew Bakugou was a grown man and fully capable of handling himself, but you couldn't help but feel bad.

You place on of your hands on top of his and said, "I understand what you mean, and I want to let you know that I don't have any bad intentions at all."

"I won't lie and say I'm not a fan of you as a hero," You continued, "but right now I'm getting to know you as Bakugou. So I hope you'll continue to allow me to."

Bakugou genuinely smiled. No smirk, or sly remark following it. Just a smile.

"Thanks. That means more than you know. But on that same topic, I also wanted to talk to you about a boundary I have if we're going to continue seeing each other." He said seriously.

You nodded your head and listened attentively.

"Because of my line of work, I just ask that you be honest with me about things. I fuckin' hate liars in general, but I really need you to understand that I can't have someone around if they're gonna be keepin' secrets and shit." He said frowning, almost as if he was thinking of a particular person when speaking about liars.

You nodded and smiled. "I promise, I'll be completely honest with you. I really wanna keep seeing you and if that's all it takes then I'm willing to do it."

He grunted. "Good. Let's clean up now, I'll take you home."

Just as you were about to start cleaning up, your phone went off. You picked it up quickly and saw that it was an email, a notification from the site you write fan fiction on.

You bit your lip and thought about what Bakugou just said. Deciding to ignore the notification, you just continued to clean up.

...

After Bakugou had dropped you off back at home, you quickly changed into your pajamas and got comfortable.

You said goodnight to Cheerios and your plants, who said goodnight back.

When you got in bed, you looked through your emails and at the notifications from HeroFiction.com that you had received earlier.

You began to think about Bakugou's words again.

"I fuckin' hate liars."

You shook your head and tried to rid away any negative thoughts you had. This secret wasn't that big of a deal, and it was probably for the better that he didn't know.

Keeping one secret wouldn't hurt, right?

...

next chapter

authors note

i had fun writing this chapter :) i hope you liked it! i also hope you liked softer bakugou here, hehe.

taglist: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19

(those in pink are not able to be tagged unfortunately)

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfic #anime #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #topsecretfiction #bakugou x you #mha bakugou

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Ok well i had the brief thought “what about an ER nurse Eddie au?” and then this popped fully formed into existence so fuck it Friday pt 2.. warnings for smoking and vague references to critically injured kids

“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”

Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely in Eddie’s hand. “It’s not, particularly.”

Buck’s hands are in his pockets as he strolls away from the glass doors out into the ambulance bay where Eddie is doing the mature, professional equivalent of playing hide and seek. He comes to a stop barely a foot or two away from where Eddie leans against grimy concrete. “Didn’t know you were a smoker.”

“I’m not,” Eddie sighs, “Particularly.” He looks over Buck’s face as he takes a drag, cataloging bruises and cuts. He hadn’t been the one to look him over before he was discharged, probably because he was out here avoiding having to do so. “Only when it’s- only after the bad shifts.” And only once a month, even if the bad shifts come again and again. He bought this pack in January, it’s stale as shit.

Buck’s eyes follow the smoke as it drifts skyward. “Rough one today?”

Eddie thinks he probably doesn’t have to explain to Buck that it’s sometimes better when a kid is dead on arrival so he doesn’t have to try his best to administer care he knows will be useless. He doesn’t have to explain a day where nothing goes right and he loses more people than he can save and he still has to walk away from someone’s parent or wife or sister, left behind forever in a waiting room on the worst day of their life, and go on to lose the next person too. Doesn’t have to explain why he’s out here, and not in there. “Mm. We’ve got this repeat customer, always hate to have him back.”

Buck’s eyes flick to his face before they settle somewhere around his elbow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I worry about him. He’s here too often.”

Buck doesn’t look up. “What was he in for this time?”

“Minor concussion. Bruising. Lacerations.” Eddie sucks cancer into his lungs. “Heard a house fell on him.” Exhales it into the night.

Buck does look up this time, eyes a darker blue out here in the shadows. “Part of a house. Just a staircase and the- like, the balcony, really.”

“Maybe he should stay away from those.”

“From houses?” Buck asks, half his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eddie rests his head on the wall behind him. “Guess that’s not really practical.”

“No.” Buck is quiet for a moment, one hand slipping out of his pocket and running through his hair. Eddie wonders what he looks like, when he’s not here. He’s more styled, sometimes, when things aren’t very bad. He wonders if he’s usually all gelled up and neat. Eddie kind of likes the loose curls. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making your day worse.” Buck looks genuinely apologetic, and Eddie shakes his head.

“The guy made it out okay this time.” Buck is just close enough that Eddie can kick at his boot with his sensible orthopedic sneaker. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s good.” Eddie’s left foot is pressed along the inside of Buck’s right, and Buck is staring down at them. “His favorite nurse was on break. I would have missed you if someone else had to do them.”

Eddie laughs, just a few bursts of soundless oxygen. “You gotta find new ways to see me before something happens that I can’t fix.”

Buck moves, taking the few steps necessary to lean against the wall beside him. Carefully, he takes the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, holds it between two of his own fingers, and takes a drag. Eddie watches it happen like he’s monitoring somebody’s pulse ox, and when Buck coughs he laughs again, louder this time. “Fuck,” Buck says, laughing too. “Thought that would be cooler than it was.”

“Smoking isn’t cool, firefighter Buckley,” Eddie says, taking the cigarette back and pulling from it again between smiling lips.

“Hm,” Buck says, grinning out into the night. Then he sighs, and rolls his head along the concrete to look at Eddie. “I think there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

They’re very close. “There’s lots I can’t fix.”

Buck shrugs like he disagrees. “I also think I’d like to find other ways to see you.”

Buck’s eyes are even more in shadow at this angle, and they’re the color of the lake back in El Paso that he and a bunch of kids went to after graduation, drunk off beer somebody’s cousin got for them, skinny dipping with breathless terrified delight under bright constellations. “Then ask me.”

Buck inhales as Eddie exhales. “What time’s your shift end?”

“5:30 AM. So, probably 6:15.”

Buck traces the two fingers he’d used to hold the cigarette down Eddie’s arm. “You wanna get breakfast with me?”

“Yes. I would.”

Buck smiles, and Eddie snubs out the cigarette on the wall between them. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Alright.” He takes a step forward, then a step to the right so he’s standing in front of Buck. “Two hours.”

“Uh huh.”

He should really get back inside. They’re understaffed, as always, and there are too many patients, as always, and not enough beds, as always. “See you then.” He doesn’t make any move to leave.

“See you then,” Buck almost whispers. He leans forward, and Eddie still doesn’t move, so he presses a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth for just a moment. His lips are warm. Eddie hadn’t noticed it was cold outside.

Buck pulls back and leans against the wall again. Eddie smiles, puts a hand in his pocket, and walks back toward the doors.

#my writing #fuck it Friday #i swear I’m going to finish trapped buck and Chris and work on proposal fic before i work on this more #but it would be a bunch of glimpses of Buck’s various hospital trips from Eddie’s nurse perspective #and maybe shuffle some events around? like maybe eddie still gets shot but by a disgruntled former patient this time and #so he does a stint in the maternity ward and buck shows up there #and Eddie is like you’re having a kid? #and bucks like no my sister is what are you doing here #and when buck gets the story he’s like fuck. shit. im sorry i wasnt there #and eddies like picturing seeing buck in that moment of violence and says im glad you weren’t #also Eddie could still be the one who restarts his heart after the lightning strike #this bit is maybe the last scene actually sorry for posting the end first #have a good breakfast boys #buddie #evan Buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc

[llamagoddessofficial]

Oh my stars, Im biting the moth boys

How would they react to an Mc that messes with their fluff as a stim?

Sans: He's good at playing it cool. He acts like there's nothing unusual about what she's doing. He's fully aware that she doesn't know the moth significance of mutual grooming, but hey... he's not going to tell her, especially not when she's in the habit of coming right up to him and brushing his fur whenever she feels like it. She clearly enjoys it, petting or combing him, scrunching up the fur, sometimes nuzzling into it... and he loves it too. He very quietly purrs whenever she does it, the only time he eases up enough to make that sound.

Why would he tell her that it's highly intimate? Why tell her its exclusively for family and mates? Why make it awkward, why spoil the fun? The human he adores is being very cosy with him. He's happy.

... Besides. She'll be his, eventually, if all his plans work out. Might as well get accustomed to grooming each other.

Red: He would be very embarrassed, because damn, that's pretty forward of her. The moth equivalent of just coming up to someone you're flirting with and gently caressing their hair. He's already got feelings so the forwardness massively flusters him... depending on how close he is to her, he might even pull away, purely because he's embarrassed at how intense his feelings are and he knows that she doesn't understand the gravity of grooming to a moth.

... If it's a repeated stim, though, sometimes he just might not be able to help himself but but lean into it. If he's tired, or they're alone together, or he's just feeling particularly lovestruck that day... he can't help but let her run her fingers through his fluff. He might sleepily reciprocate, playing carefully with her hair.

Sometimes you just gotta take advantage of the moment. Sometimes, when the cute human you have a crush on puts her soft hands in your fluff, you just gotta let her.

Skull: It's almost as if his fluff is his 'deactivate' button. Like when you scratch a dog in just the right place, and it can't help but fall over. She touches his fur and he immediately drops.

Sometimes, it's good, because it's a guaranteed way to make him totally relax. He'll be cuddled up to her and when she starts playing with his fur he just lets out a big happy mix between a purr and a sigh, and completely eases. But sometimes it's bad, because when a massive clingy moth beast with four arms decides he's enjoying the attention and you're not going anywhere... well, you're really not going anywhere.

Skull's isolation from other moths means he doesn't really understand the importance of grooming each other. All he knows is that he really wants to touch her hair, and he really likes how it feels when she plays with his fur. Sometimes the feelings confuse him a little- if anyone else touched him, they'd lose the arm.

#llamagines #moth sanses au #sans lets her do it #red might not let her do it #and skull wont let her leave unless she keeps doing it

[moonstruckme]

We have whimsical reader in marauders

We need one with tasm peter

Oorrrr

Can you imagine (or make) a witch/wizard reader with tasm peter!!???

Thanks for requesting love!

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 679 words

Peter comes in through the window, more out of habit than anything else now that he’s not hiding anything from you, but you don’t startle. You’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through what looks like his old physics textbook. 

“Baby,” he says, “why was there an apple on the fire escape again?” 

“It was still there?” You look up, disappointed to find a whole apple in your boyfriend’s hand. “I thought Ricardo would’ve gotten to it by now. I hope he’s okay.” 

Peter scoffs, going into the kitchen to wash the apple and put it away. He scrubs it extra hard just in case the raccoon you’re set on befriending did get his grubby paws on it. 

“Ricardo can eat without your help,” he says. “He’s hardy, he’s from Brooklyn.” 

“I know,” you sigh, “but apples are his favorite.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, but you’re not looking, your attention on something in the book. “How do you know that?” 

“He’ll let me pet him while he’s eating apples.” 

He sighs, leaning his forearms on the counter. He’s going to have to find a way to move that raccoon to another neighborhood the next time he goes out. Before it gives you rabies.

“What’re you doing over there?” he asks you. 

“Pressing flowers.” 

“Yeah?” Peter rounds the counter, moving behind you to sit on the couch. His knees bracket your shoulders. The A/C is blasting to combat the summer heat, and goosebumps prickle down your arms. “What for?” 

“I was thinking May could bring them to work,” you say, flattening a dandelion between two pieces of wax paper. The movements are deft and routined, and Peter wonders how many flowers are already enclosed between the pages. There’s a small pile of them sitting next to you, miraculously intact despite the fragile puffs. “She was telling me about some of the kids she works with last week. I thought they might like to have them.” You shrug. “For bookmarks or whatever.” 

Peter’s insides go melty soft. “I’m sure they would.” He leans forward, setting his hand on your shoulder and his lips to your head. You only keep working. Sometimes Peter feels like a weird rock or a feather that you’d picked up somewhere, put in your pocket without a second thought. But you do love your rocks and feathers, so it’s not an awful fate. “Where’d you get these, sweetheart?” 

“I found them,” you say simply. “Parks, sidewalks, you know. They grow anywhere. Do you think I should save a few in case they want to make wishes instead of keeping them?” 

It’s said so seriously Peter can’t help but grin, turning so his cheek smushes into the crown of your head. “That seems like a good idea. Mind if I use one?” 

“Of course.” You sound surprised. “Use as many as you want, Peter. I can always get more.” 

“Just one is good.” 

He slides off of the couch, sitting beside you and picking up a dandelion. He waits until you’re looking over at him before blowing. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as the seeds rush towards you. Peter’s close enough that they get stuck in your eyelashes and eyebrows, a couple in your hair. His breath weakens as he starts laughing, the last few seeds coming off the flower by way of little puffs of air. 

“You don’t have to blow it at someone,” you say, lips stretching into a pretty smile. You blink cautiously, opening your eyes once no dandelion fluff falls in. 

He lowers the stem. “I just wanted to make sure my wish went in the right direction.” 

Your head tilts. “What’d you wish for?” 

Peter combs a bit of white fluff out of your hair, grinning. “C’mon, baby,” he tsks, shifting his fingers to your jaw. You’re pliant to the touch, angling your head at the slightest cue from him. You keep your eyes open, curious, but your lips are soft against his. “You know that’s not how it works. I’ve still gotta make sure it comes true.”

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