#they got their lashes from their mum

[eilidh-eternal]

You go to dinner

Merry Christmas if that’s your thing! @luminousbeings-crudematter My gift to you and all the rest of the SingleDad!Johnny lovers today is fluff and a lil’ something extra I was originally gonna wait to include, but it just felt right in this chapter. Happy Holidays and Enjoy 🥰🎄🎁

SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | Part 1 | Masterlist

Today is Friday and you’re having dinner with Johnny.

Johnny and Isobel, you remind yourself. Not a date. Even if the man next door seems hellbent on seeing you squirm in his presence, stunned into silence while fire creeps in licking tendrils up your spine and sucks the breath out of you.

It’s not a date. But you still pull that one pretty dress out of your closet anyway, the one you told yourself you’re saving for a special occasion. Still don a few simple pieces of jewelry and go to the extent of styling your hair, swipe mascara onto your lashes and put something other than lip balm on for once. A few strategic spritzes of perfume at the base of your throat and wrists and you decide that anything more is too much. Trying too hard.

Trying too hard to impress someone who’s got it all. Someone who once had it all. Beautiful wife, adorable daughter. Did they live somewhere with a white picket fence? Did Isobel spend her days as a toddler going to parks and tromping through rain puddles, mum and dad at her side? Did Johnny smile at her the way he smiles at Isobel–like she hung the stars in the sky just for him? Could he ever smile at you like that? Could he ever love you–love anyone–the way he loved her again?

It’s hard not to compare yourself to the woman who’s had it all. The woman who had him. Hard not to feel doubt slithering in amongst the hope, to be reminded of everything you aren't even when he gives you no reason to. No, those feelings, that reservation, lies somewhere between yourself and the photo of the woman on his living room wall. Is there room in his heart for another woman when she’s still there to remind him of what he had? You’ll never find out if you don’t find your shoes and coat and get going.

It snowed again last night, and the pavement is dusted in a fine layer of glittering ice that swirls and scatters in the wind, trailing in lazy eddies behind you like the tail of a comet as you make the short walk next door, stepping carefully up onto their front stoop. Light from inside makes the windows glow a warm hue, and the sound of a children's show filters through along with Isobels excited voice when she hears your knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” Isobel is darting towards the door before Johnny can dissuade her or scoop her up into his arms and task her with keeping an eye on the oven while he gets the door. He hates how tall she’s getting. Wishes her mother was here to see her stretching up on her tip-toes to peer out the window. “She’s here, she’s here!” The front door swings open, nearly taking out a vase on the entry table with it, short little arms just long enough to reach the doorknob and throw it open haphazardly. “Hi miss neighbor!”

“Hello Isobel. May I come in?” Johnny nearly drops the serving dish in his hands when he hears your voice, has to remind himself to breathe when Isobel clears the way for you and he catches a glimpse of you from the kitchen. This is just dinner, he reminds himself. Dinner with the gorgeous fucking neighbor that bakes and dotes on Isobel like she’s your daughter.

And Christ that dress… He’s glad he wore more than jeans and a t-shirt, found a dress shirt shoved in the back of his closet that isn't part of his parade dress or uniform. Isobel insisted that they ‘dress up’ for dinner, and Johnny was happy to go along with it if it meant she would take a bath and let him help with detangling her hair after. But standing here now, seeing you… he’s doing everything in his power to keep his hammering pulse in check and keep all his blood from rushing south. What a fucking sight that would be.

“Hi, Johnny.” Yeah, that’s certainly not helping. You look fucking adorable looking up at him like that, hands clasped together in front of you, toying with a delicate ring, tentative smile pulling your features into a face he wants to burn into his memory, tattoo on the back of his eyelids so he never forgets it. Soft and sweet and fucking perfect. His hands twitch at his sides, body reacting to your presence with the need to touch, to have his hand pressed to your back, curled around your waist, wrapped around your shoulder. He shoves them in his pockets instead and braces his shoulder against the wall beside him, crossing one ankle over the other and swallows down the desire to pull you into him.

“Look at ye, Bonnie. Give us a whirl, eh?” Isobel, at some point while he was too busy making moon eyes at you to notice, had taken up her usual spot beside him, arm wrapped around his leg to lean into him.

“Twirl! Twirl!” She bounces on her feet, jostling Johnny, and he feels like he could do the same. Might just join her if it would convince you. It seems he doesn’t have to though, and he watches with rapt attention as you give them a little spin, hands held out to your sides, and when you face them again you look a little less reserved, timid smile blooming into something easy and comfortable as Isobel surges forward. “Ye’re like the girls on the telly!”

Your eyes flick from Isobel’s gaze of wonderment to Johnny, and when he catches the question behind the subtle uptick of a brow, the way your eyes widen a fraction, he explains. “Wean’s been watchin’ those princess movies all week. The one with the, um… what’s ‘er friends name, Bell?”

Isobel scoffs, offended that he doesn’t remember the name of the comical sidekick. “It’s Mushu, and he’s not her friend. He’s her spirit guide. Like the wisps,” she corrects, little hands on her hips and scowling up at him. Johnny puts his hands up in front of him in surrender.

“I’ll get it right one of these days, leannan. How about ye go pause yer movie and we’ll get cleaned up for dinner?” She gives him an enthusiastic nod, all offense forgotten, and trots off to the living room to do just that. With Isobel momentarily occupied his attention returns to you, lingering on all the places your dress clings to your body, to the delicious figure he’s sure you’re hiding beneath it. “She’s right.” Your head tilts to the side, that same brow inching upwards in confusion.

“About what?”

“About ye lookin’ like royalty.” He revels in the way you stall in front of him, body seemingly frozen as your mind works to process his words, and then your eyes are looking anywhere but his face, fingers twisting your ring between them and searching for a response.

“It’s just a dress, nothing special,” you try to dismiss, and he openly appraises you now. Lets his eyes rake down your form before they meet yours again.

“‘S a dress I’d get on muh knees for, bonnie. If royalty isnae the right word for that, then maybe I should-” He doesn’t get to finish, interrupted by Isobel darting out of the living room and tugging on his arm, pulling him backwards towards the kitchen.

“Come on, bubby. Ye said we’d wash up,” she whines and continues pulling on his arm, throwing all of her weight into her efforts to move him.

“Aye, that I did,” he finally relents and lets her pull him back a step. “Go on and have a seat.” He gestures to the table, dinner and place settings all laid out already. “We’ll be right behind ye.”

In the washroom Johnny helps Isobel clamber up onto her step stool to wash her hands. “She’s pretty,” she remarks as she takes the soap from him.

“Aye, she is,” he agrees, helping her to lather her hands.

“D’ye think she’ll bake for us?”

“I dunno leannan. Ye’ll have to ask ‘er after dinner.”

She does, and she’s ecstatic when you agree with a little encouragement from Johnny. He doesn’t know much about baking but he knows you need flour and sugar and eggs and all that, and he’d made sure they have all those things from the shops when they’d gone yesterday to prepare for dinner. Wasn’t at all joking several days earlier when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Isobel bopping about the kitchen together, though he can think of several things other than your spoon that he’d like to lick right now. Watching you bend over to retrieve the pan from the oven has him shifting in his seat and readjusting himself while you and Isobel have your backs turned.

“Bubby, look!” Isobel is nearly jumping with joy as you set the pan down on top of the stove. “We made cookies!” The smile you give her, the adoration pouring off of you in waves, is something he wishes he could bottle and keep all to himself. Something he never dreamed he could have. Someone who loves Isobel just as much as he does. He thinks if Isobel can win you over, make you fall in love with her, then maybe he stands a chance. Maybe you can love him too.

He just wishes she could be here to see it. That was all she’d ever wanted for him—to see him in love, settle down and start a family. Now a piece of her will always be a part of whatever family he chooses to make.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #cod soap #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod au #call of duty au #neighbors au #cod mwii #cod mw #cod mwiii #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #call of duty mw19 #call of duty soap #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare

[pinkcherryblossom18]

Dead. Felix was dead. Tears streamed down your cheeks in rivers, your hands shaking as you took a drag from your cigarette—Felix’s cigarette. It was his pack and his lighter and his room that you were currently sitting in. His mum hadn’t removed anything yet, you weren’t sure if she or Sir James would be the ones to do it. Duncan had already been in here once, earlier this morning to wake Felix only to see you sitting in his bed and realization hitting his old cogs. That made you cry even harder. 

A knock sounded on the door and it opened before you could say anything. You looked up through your lashes and at Oliver. They had a fallout, that you knew but Felix hadn’t talked about it with you, hadn’t told you what happened. (Oliver was thankful for that, maybe Felix couldn’t bare to tell you what he had told him.) But you knew it was going to happen sooner or later, Felix always got bored with his toys and tossed them into whatever dark corner he could find. It was a shame. You had quite liked Oliver, he was kind but awkward and shy but you could talk enough for everyone that he didn’t have to.

You smiled at him. “Hey,” you whispered and Oliver strided across the room, his arms wrapping around you faster than you could blink. Oliver had an unnatural coldness to him but you could take it, that would be more than fine now when the heat of your tears was all you could feel. Oliver's hand tangled in your hair, placing you into the crook of his neck, letting your never ending tears soak his black button up shirt (He felt alive, happy despite losing the second half of his wantings but one was better than none. He would take your warmth and relish in the vulnerability that you were letting him warp). “I can’t believe he’s gone,” you sobbed. “I just–I jus—I can’t!”

Oliver let out a small sound, shushing you and rocking your body back and forth. He said nothing, only held you as you cried and soon enough when the headache became too much and you were starting to run out of tissues, your tears dried slightly and you pulled away from his neck, placing your chin on his shoulder. “He cared about you, you know? I think he genuinely cared this time but he never told me what happened when you both fell out,” you whispered against his shoulder. Tilting your head, you look up at him and smile slightly, it’s wobbly and crooked but it's all you can manage (Oliver will take it, he likes it more than he knows he should). “I’m happy you’re here.”

He nods and kisses the top of your head (he wants to do more. He almost wonders if he could taste Felix still on your painted lips if he searched deep enough in them) and leans back. Your head hits the familiar pillow that once belonged to Felix. You had never slept in the bed that his mother had picked out for you and memories were nestled deep into the mattress. You almost feel bad for having Oliver lay on these sheets that have seen so much of both you and Felix (he knows what these sheets have seen, he’s watched it happen multiple times. He’s even stared at the bed after before anyone could change the blankets or the duvet. Even managing to rub one off while smelling them, imagining that he was in there with the both of you). 

“Thank you,” you whisper to him after an hour goes by. “Thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he answers and for once, it’s the truth.

#oliver quick #oliver quick x reader

[moni-logues]

Practice

Pairing: Namjoon x f. reader

Genre: pwp, smut, established relationship

Summary: Namjoon has a baby niece and it gives you both baby-making thots. Time to get some practice in.

Word count: 2k

Content: unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control); oral sex (f. receiving), lil bit of biting

A/N: I think this was a request? Pretty sure because I don't tend to have baby-making thoughts lmaooo not even for Joon 😂 this has been moderately edited but please forgive any typos lmao I've been belting out ballads as I've been writing whoops

You stared, transfixed, at the tiny, precious bundle in your arms as she yawned widely and shut her eyes. You lowered your head to give hers a big sniff. Who knew what that smell really was? A scent that all brand-new babies shared and no one had yet bottled. Intoxicating. 

“God, smell her, Joonie. Isn’t it the best?”  

Namjoon did as you instructed and grinned. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.” 

You gently leant back and Joon scooted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, both staring down at the tiny human in your arms. She was brand new – brand new! not even a week old! – and utterly perfect: enormous dark eyes framed by the thickest, darkest lashes you’d ever seen; podgy little thighs and miniscule fingers curled into the softest little fist. It almost brought you to tears. You couldn’t believe how perfect she was.  

You had hoped that his sister bringing new life into the world would have distracted his family from asking you and Joon when you would get your act together and marry… In a way, it had: they just started asking when you would be having kids. His sister and her husband hadn’t been together that much longer than the two of you had, but had somehow made it down the aisle and into the maternity ward already. You and Joon had talked about having kids ‘sometime’, ‘in the future’, ‘when we’re ready’. You had to admit this was accelerating those timelines. You couldn’t help but think about what your baby might look like, what Joon would be like as a dad, what you’d be like as a mum. Your heart clenched at the thought. 

* 

“I can’t believe I’m an uncle,” Joon says as you enter your apartment later that evening, kicking off his boots and shedding his puffer coat. “I don’t feel old enough! I’m not grown-up enough to have a niece!” 

“Get used to it, old man! This is just the start!” You laughed as you took off your scarf, gloves and hat. “Wasn’t she perfect?” 

Namjoon wrapped you in his arms and kissed you lightly. You shivered, maybe from the change in temperature from the cold outside. Maybe.  

“She was pretty perfect, but I reckon our babies will be better.”  

He kissed you again. 

“Oh, our babies, eh? Tell me about them.” 

“I think we’ll have three,” he began as he kissed your neck. “Two boys and a girl, boy first. Close together in age so they can be close. Obviously, they’ll have your eyes-” 

“And your brain.” 

“And your heart.” 

He tightened his grip on you and kissed you deeper. 

“And when are we expecting these kids to come along?” 

He pretended to think about it for a moment. 

“Well, the first one probably in about nine months’ time, what do you say?” 

He grinned at you and you laughed. 

“Wow, one niece and that’s all it takes? Have you thought this through?” 

“Ah, we can practise, can’t we? It does make perfect, after all.” 

“You’ve got a point.” 

Namjoon swiped an arm over the sideboard, shifting keys and bags and wallets onto the floor, and then he lifted you onto it, kissing your shoulder and your neck and your jaw. You hadn’t expected such a reaction from him, hadn’t thought that he’d be the one needy and desperate after an hour in a baby’s company, but you weren’t complaining. Far from.  

You grabbed his hair to pull his face to yours and you kissed him hard, taking his bottom lip in your teeth. His hands found their way under your jacket, under your jumper, and he ran a thumb over your nipple, cupping your breast as his tongue tangled with yours. You were quick to pull Namjoon’s hoodie off and quicker to be frustrated by layer after layer of warm clothes. You were burning up all over, the cold outside a long-forgotten memory now. All you could feel was the heat, on your skin, in your core, between your body and his. You were simmering, the flame growing taller, licking across your hips, down your thighs.  

Namjoon shiver, finally naked from the waist up, and you kissed the goosebumps rising all over his flesh.  

“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” he laughed. 

“What? You mean you don’t want to have sex right by our front door? I mean, I guess we can go to the bedroom, if you really want, if-” 

He silenced you with a kiss and picked you up. You kissed his face all over and bit down on the soft flesh of his earlobe as he carried you to the bedroom. When he let you down, you discarded your remaining close with as much haste as you could muster. The sight of his naked body would never get old for you: his strong, thick thighs; perfectly defined V-line; the little happy trail of hair leading to his belly button; his soft, smooth skin; his stiff cock, hot in your hand as you wrapped your fingers around it and pumped.  

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and brought your face close to his.  

“You know they say you’re more likely to conceive if you have at least one orgasm,” he whispered to you. You chuckled. 

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems there, will we?” 

Namjoon pushed you onto the bed and leant down from above you. The dark lust in his eyes lightened for a second as he looked at you and he kissed you gently on the lips. 

“I love you, really; I love you.”  

“I love you, too.” 

You kissed him once and then again and then again, each a little less soft than the one before. Because you loved him, because he loved you, because you were so sickly sweet, gooey and soft for each other, but you were also needy now, thirsty, hungry for him. Love was all well and good but you wanted to be fucked. 

“Now are you going to make me come or what?” 

He laughed and playfully tapped your cheek before offering you a cheeky salute.  

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He kissed your collar bone as his fingers found your clit. He kissed your breasts as his fingers slipped and curled inside you and his thumb rubbed your swollen bud. His kisses trailed down your stomach and his tongue replaced his thumb against you; he sucked hard as his fingers thrummed and you let yourself go to him, melted into the mattress, limbs heavy and hot.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, moaning as his tongue flicked back and across. It surprised you still, every time, how quickly he could turn you to jelly, how easily he could get you off. He knew your every move, every gesture, every twitch, every flush of your skin, every different, little noise you let slip as he worked you over. Practice, he’d said. As if he needed it. 

Namjoon removed his fingers briefly and ran his tongue across your entrance. Taking one of your lips in his mouth, he bit lightly and you squirmed. 

“Harder,” you panted and you could feel him grin against you. He clamped his teeth harder and his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing your arousal all over, making a mess of you. He trapped it tightly between two fingers and rolled them back and forth. He bit the soft flesh of your inner thigh and hot skin of your mound; he kissed the crease of your hips and pushed your legs open wider. All the while, you could feel the pressure build inside you, you walls spasming and clenching as you neared your climax. You gripped the bedsheets tight as you moaned, pulling hard as the waves rolled through your body.  

Namjoon’s mouth was back on your clit, sucking and licking; his fingers back inside you, hooking and curling against you. He held you down as you bucked beneath him, crying out as pleasure overwhelmed you. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter, didn’t stutter as you came all over him, gushing over his hand, clenching his fingers inside you. Unable to utter a coherent string of words, you tapped him on the head for relief. He came up for air, mouth shiny and sticky, and lay a line of sloppy kisses across your stomach and your breasts and your chest.  

You pulled his face to yours and kissed him, tasting yourself all over his lips and his tongue.  

“Ok,” you said, breathlessly. “Orgasm, check. Time to pretend to make a baby?” 

He chuckled, the noise rumbling deep in his chest and kissed you again. He seemed in no rush, but you had never had the patience. You reached between you to take him in your hand again; his tip was slick with pre-cum and your thighs trembled in anticipation of him inside you.  

“Imagine, though,” you whispered as he guided himself towards your waiting wings. “If we had a baby-”.  

You gasped as he pushed himself inside you, your eyes fluttering shut, your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Babe,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes looking deep into yours when you opened them. He rolled his hips. “Our baby is going to be the best baby there’s ever been.” 

You nodded and let your eyes roll back, feeling every contour of him against your tight slip. A baby. Namjoon’s baby. Couldn’t be anything but the best. 

“Best baby ever,” you agreed, breathless and whiny. “’Cause you’re the best.”  

Namjoon nipped at your earlobe. 

“No, ’cause we’re the best.” 

“I love you.” The words barely audible as your breath escaped in shallow bursts. “I love you, I love you.”  

He lay so close on top of you that your torsos met as he thrust harder and harder, his breath becoming laboured, his groans louder. You whined quietly in his ear and tugged at his hair; you wrapped your legs around him and the two of you moaned in unison when he hit deeper inside you. He lifted himself up on to his hands, looking down at you with half-closed eyes. He wanted to come on your tits, spray himself over your chest and mark you as his own, his and only his, but then he thought about coming inside you, making a baby – even a pretend one – and he felt all his muscles twitch. You were on birth control so it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d ever come inside you, but it felt different this time. He felt closer to you. He felt like this meant something different. This was something you had done dozens, even hundreds of times, but it was different this time.  

“Fuck,” he growled, feeling close to the edge.  

He thrust faster, breathing hard, looking down at you: your messy hair, hand over your eyes, mouth agape, your smooth skin and kiss-swollen lips, the mole on your left breast, the tiny scar by your hairline. As the blood roared in his ears, he felt his heart clench, not knowing how it was possible to love one person quite this much. With a sudden shudder, he came, shooting his hot seed inside you, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched.  

He fell on top of you, still inside you. You both lay still for a moment, no sound in the air but your breathing, no sound in your ears but the thumping of your heart. You felt hot inside and out, tingling with pleasure and relief.  

“I love you,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. With your legs still wrapped tight, you wrapped your arms around him too and kissed his forehead. 

“I love you, too, Joonie.”  

“That was-…” 

“Yeah.” 

You patted just above where your uterus rested. 

“See you in nine months, mate!” 

Namjoon laughed and you felt it in your own chest.  

“Maybe next time, it shouldn’t be just for practice.”  

He looked at you searchingly. Your heart flipped.  

“You want to have a baby with me for real, Joon?” 

“I want to have everything with you.”  

You shuffled beneath him, bringing your faces closer.  

“Ok,” you whispered, your faces so close that your lips touched his as you spoke. “I’ll make an appointment and get my IUD removed.”  

Namjoon nodded. 

“But does next time have to wait ’til then? ’Cause I’d really like to practise some more.”  

Namjoon grinned. 

“Well, it does make perfect.” 

#namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts fic #mmm repost

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Are my parents and I the assholes for insinuating that my aunt and uncle's dog should be put down?

I (21F) hate one of my aunt and uncle's current dogs. They rescue old racing dogs and have done for like 15 years now. Their first two dogs I loved. First one was a bitch in both senses of the word, but she was funny and well behaved when it was important. Second one was a true gentle giant and a lovely boy. The second pair they've adopted though are a nightmare.

Alice, the current bitch they have, has suffered some form of trauma in her past. There are three years missing from her medical history and she's got some scars, so we'll never know exactly what happened but something did. She's a very nervous dog. She can be a sweetie, and they were making progress with her until they got the new one. Alice, however, does what more dominant dogs around her do, which has become a problem.

Enter Blue. Blue is genuinely dangerous. Blue snaps with no previous warning and tries to kill things. My family all know about dogs, this isn't us misreading his body language, he is giving no warning then going for the throat. He's taken a particular dislike to mum (who is usually a bit of a dog whisperer) and has got her in the hand a few times. Blue also tries to kill any dog who doesn't share his breed. We were in a restaurant, sitting outside, Blue saw a Beagle and before any of us could do anything he'd pulled my uncle backwards off of his chair and dragged him towards this poor dog. My uncle is a big man, 6" and not thin, so you can imagine the strength it took for Blue to drag him like a doll (the Beagle and owner got away DW).

I've disliked Blue for a while, but what made me actually hate him was that, when my aunt and uncle came to see us just after our own elderly dog had passed, Blue walked into our sitting room and pissed on the carpet. He's house trained and has never done this before. I think he was doing it territorially because he could smell that our dog was dead. I've never wanted to kick an animal before, but I did then and had to excuse myself before I caused a scene.

Cut to yesterday. We were in the pub having a family meal. Blue is muzzled now in public after the last restaurant incident. There was a family sitting across the room from us with a very little girl, 3 or 4 years old I'd say. She was looking at Alice and trying to get her attention from across the room. As her mum got up to take her to the toilet, the girl pointed at our table and asked to see the dogs. Her mum asked us if it was okay. My aunt agreed. The little girl came over. Alice immediately hid under the table.

My aunt was like "ooh sorry, she's shy, why don't you say hello to Blue".

Blues head pops up. The mum sees he's wearing a muzzle and tries to pull her daughter away from him but the kid was too quick and went to pat him on the head. He was super chill with it, pressed into her palm like he wanted harder pets, then with no warning growl, no tensed up body language, nothing, just lunges for the kid.

Obviously she's terrified. The mum is terrified and pulls her away. My uncle grabs hold of Blue's leash and my aunt is ineffectually going "oh no blue bad boy" over and over. My parents jumped up to help the mum and the little girl. I grabbed Alice so she couldn't start copying Blue. We all got kicked out of the pub.

We were standing on the street outside when my parents and I started laying into my aunt about how irresponsible that was. She is like "he'll never become accustomed to humans if he's locked away". Dad shouted that he doesn't get to maul someone to learn that lesson. She scoffed and said he had the muzzle. I said it takes one piece of brittle plastic before he gets put down. My aunt told us all to fuck off and stormed off in the opposite direction. My uncle took Alice from me and followed her.

My aunt made a passive aggressive series of Facebook posts about how all dogs deserve care, and how everyone lashes out when exposed to trauma, then blocked mum (only Facebook user in our house).

I don't think we're the assholes, but I know I'm very biased, because I genuinely hate that dog and would be quite happy to hear it had moved on, whether that be to a different home or the afterlife, I'm not picky.

So awta?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[tasteleeknow]

Knife kink? 👀

18+ content. minors dni. knife play.

Minho is safe. It's one of the first feelings you'd had about him. He was walking comfort, gentle and soft spoken. Even when he got excitable, bouncy and a little loud, it would only take a gentle word and he'd calm—adjusting to your mood.

It's why you're completely relaxed when you hand him your small folding knife—the one you usually kept buried in your backpack—and ask him to help you with your dress.

He looks between you and the knife held closed in his hand, clearly confused.

"The zip is stuck," you explain, turning your back to him. "I need you to cut it."

"Cut... the dress?"

"Mm, please."

"I might be able to—"

"Just cut it, please. It's stuck and I wanna resuse the fabric for something else anyway."

He's quiet for a moment. You brush your hair over your shoulder, holding out of the way for him.

"What if I... cut you?" he murmurs. "There's scissors somewhere—"

"You won't."

You feel him step in closer, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck as he leans in to inspect where the zip is caught. "Don't move," he says finally.

You hum in acknowledgement. Scissors were boring.

Then he's pulling the fabric from your skin, creating as much distance between you and the place he'll cut as he can. You can't see how he does it, you don't need to. You're as calm as if he was brushing your hair. He's more careful with you than you'd ever be with yourself.

Then the fabric tears. You hear the knife clatter on the bench. A second later and his hands work to shred the dress until you're forced to hold the fabric onto your body with your hands across your chest.

"There," he whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder. "Good?"

You turn to face him. "No."

"No?"

"I need more help."

His eyes drop as you release the dress, letting it fall to your ankles. Then he's reaching for your underwear, tugging at the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin lightly. "You can't take these off yourself?"

You shake your head.

He huffs out a breathy laugh. "Why is that?"

"Because I want you to cut them off me."

He steps into you, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. His brown eyes are a little hooded, lashes long and dark. "Why?" he whispers.

You mirror his actions, looping your arms around his neck so you can play with the hair at the back of his head. "I remember once—I must've been 10 or 11—I went to a museum with my class. There was this big sword on the wall and I remember looking around at all the people in the room and feeling anxious about it. I've always been like that. Even in the kitchen when my mum was sharpening one the knives I was on always a little on edge. She could drop it on her toes or accidentally turn at wrong time as I'm walking past..." You trail one of your hands down over his shoulder, fingers gently stroking over his skin until they rest at his throat. He doesn't react, even as you give an experimental squeeze. "I noticed the other day, when you were making dinner. I was so relaxed. It's a lot for me, to be completely free of it. No anxiety at all. You can stand there behind me with a knife practically brushing my skin and—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, forcing your fingers into the sides of his neck a little in the second before you can react and pull them away.

When he releases you he has the knife in his hand. You hadn't noticed him pick it up from the bench. He drops to his knees.

You keep a handful of his soft hair between your fingers as he slips the knife between your skin and the fabric of your underwear—at the side; at your hip. He keeps the blade facing away from you, his arms working to keep you steady as he cuts the fabric off you.

He leans forward when he's done, his lips soft against your thigh. "You're so soft," he whispers. He's making a trail with his lips, towards your centre. "So perfect."

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #minho drabbles

[cookiepie111]

König headcanon

These are completely random and have no rhyme or reason and have been sitting in the drafts for too long

He fidgets a lot, nothing crazy. He just can't seem to stay still. His teammates notice the way he's constantly changing positions when they talk to him. Standing with his arms behind his back, then on his hips, moving from one leg to another all this in the space of a minute

Dad is smart ass first time he comes home from the military "How's the sniper life going" knowing full well, it didn't work out

He's more likely to lash out and fight against his dad now. So it's surprise when he reaches over and grabs his dad. mum tries to intervene

Likes to slip into your bed and rest on your chest, likes the way you run your hands over his head( if he's not bald but even stil!)

Likes friendly competition.

I've said this before, but handy man! He's been living by himself for a long time, so just does everything himself. Also, joining so young, he just began fixing things himself if it'd take too long asking

Problem kid in the military like kid why are acting like a sniper we didn't place you there.

Wasn't well liked at first, would get in fights with people, projecting and got something to prove

Being a batering ram doesn't do good to your mental health. He's supposed to be the first to charge into death.

I'd like to think he mellows out in his older years still got that something to prove energy but like has the history and skill to back him up.

Doesn't like lateness Doesn't find it cute. Is confused how you're late to dates with him when you start living together.

When he first read about Hephaestus, he dropped to his knees. "He's just like me fr"

Likes to pick you up off the ground.

He wants to be comfortable he wants someone he can be comfortable with to hold softly. To hold him.

Is determined. Doesn't give up easily so you can't either will try to help you work through whatever you're dealing with. Picking you up like a mother cat does her kitten by the scruff .

Had an idea of what his life would be like in /after the military, while his life isn't exactly like that at least he's alive! And healthy.

Trys to get into relationships go on dates but it overwhelms him the more he thinks about on the day, as he's standing there facing the mirror really looking at himself , it's not a pretty face he's not a pretty person. The idea that a woman would see his face. He's really starting to think about all the things that come with being in a relationship. Does he have it in him to be vulnerable? Can he trust her. Will he be able to sleep next to her. He also hasn't become comfortable with showing his face. He looks in the mirror and just feels sad. He ends up standing the woman up. He sits and tries to avoid those feelings bubbling back up

#könig x black reader #könig x reader #könig headcanons #könig imagine #cod x black reader #call of duty x black reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #könig #könig mw2 #my writing #cod imagine

[yearning-for-autumn]

Acotar Trauma-Verse -- Part 1

Azriel

A/N - This is a self indulgent character study series, I wanted to explore the trauma of each of the batboys, and how it manifested in their childhood. This is pure angst.

---

Summary - Azriel has been in Rhysand's house for about a month. He is struggling.

Warnings - Childhood trauma, angst, unhealthy coping.

Pairings - None

Word Count - 900

“Azriel? Azriel? Azriel.”

Someone was calling his name, but Azriel couldn’t hear them. Well, he could. They were muffled as if they were underwater. Or he was underwater. He felt wet, and warm, like he had been swimming. He would be cold if he had been swimming wouldn’t he? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he ever had been swimming before.

“Azriel, wake up.”

It was Cassian’s voice. At least, it sounded like Cassian. He loved Cassian. He loved both of his brothers. His new brothers. They were nice to him. He wasn’t always that nice to them. He had been mean to Rhysand today, he pushed him down the stairs. Rhys had cried. Why had he cried? Doesn’t he know there’s no point? No one’s coming to help you. Even if you cry. Even if it hurts. Even when you need someone to—

“AZRIEL!”

He jolted awake with a gasp. Instantly he could tell what was wrong. Cassian was sat by the foot of his bed, Rhys by his side. Rhysand had been the one to finally wake him, shouting directly into his mind. Both of them knew by now not to shake him awake.

Azriel’s shadows had flooded the space, swirling around his brothers frantically. By the looks on their faces, they weren’t contained to just his room. They must have infiltrated the entire house. He stared off into the distance, praying that they were at least masking his scent. His brothers couldn’t find out. They could never find out. He could feel his hands shaking violently and willed them to stop, they didn’t obey. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He could hear Rhys and Cassian asking if he was ok, what happened, what’s wrong, Az. Az?

“Azriel.” Her voice. Her scent. His shadows slowly retreated back to him. “Boys, leave him alone for a while, I will look after him. He’ll be ready to see you again in the morning.” Rhys’ mother. His mother. Her gentle hands, calloused from her hours of sewing and tailoring, guided him towards her. He couldn’t speak, but with Cassian and Rhysand gone, he could cry.

He took heavy, shuddering breaths as he cried. Hot tears running down his cheeks and wetting his mothers shoulder. She held him firm through it all.

“Now, darling.” She said as his tears calmed. “Let’s get you out of bed and cleaned up.”

Anger bubbled up inside him. He didn’t know where it came from. Nor could he control it. His shadows lashed out before he could and slammed the door that was barely ajar.

“No!” His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Azriel, I know you’re upset. But you need to clean up. I will stay, I will help you.” His mother, held his hands in hers, gently massaging them over the thick bandages. He growled, and something like delight flickered in him when she flinched, before it was swamped by crushing guilt.

“Mama.” He said softly, and she kissed him on the forehead.

“My darling. Please let me help you.”

“I don’t want to!” He knew he was yelling, it felt good to yell. His mother looked resigned and let him. He screamed. Screamed and screamed and cried. The wardrobe door was squeaking on its hinges as his shadows flung it open and slammed it over and over. His desk was hovering just off the ground, as if the dark whorls of energy were ready to send it flying out of the window. The curtains ripped and tore.

Light returned, after a little while. After his voice grew tired, and his screams became sobs and his shadows got bored of wreaking havoc on their room. Rhys’ mum took a calming breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth.

“I know. I know you don’t. Let’s at least get you out of these wet clothes.” She said, her voice shook a little, but her hands stayed firm.

Azriel pulled his hands away, a movement that jolted his mother backwards. He scrambled out of the bed, grimacing at the cold air on his soaked pyjamas, and hurriedly hid himself in the corner, his shadows completely engulfing him.

He could hear nothing. He could see nothing. He could feel nothing.

His wings pressed up against the cold of the wall, but it didn’t matter, they were useless anyway. They weren’t like Cassians, or Rhysands. They didn’t work. Maybe they never would. It took him a while to let his shadows retreat again. But when he did, his mother was still there. Sat in the same place on the bed that he had left her. She smiled.

“Are you ready?” She asked. Azriel took a shaky breath, and nodded.

He let her dress him. Tried not to look at the wet clothes and sheets that got piled into the laundry basket. He wanted to help her make the bed. It was the least he could do. But she refused. Once she was done, she extended her arms and he was helpless to stop himself. He crawled into her embrace, letting himself be tucked up tightly under the duvet, his mother curled around him. She hummed gently, an old Illyrian tune. He let it lull him back to sleep. She kissed his hair, his cheek, his forehead. He could never deserve something so gentle. But he was selfish. And he took it for himself. His shadows sheltered under the duvet with him.

When he woke she would be gone. She always was. To work. To tend to her husband. Or her real son. But for now, he let himself dream that she stayed.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #writing #azriel shadowsinger #fanfic #night court #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel #acotar series #azriel acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fandom #cassian #rhysand #rhysands mother #azriel smut #trauma #childhood trauma #azriel trauma #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #high lord rhysand #gwynriel #elriel

[meowmeowriley]

The Only Thing We Share is the Same Last Name

Tell ,e about the whump pretty pretty please 🥹🥹🥹

Eheh eheheheheheh okie dokie.

After hearing of his brothers death in Mexico Thomas Riley joins the army. He wants to be more like his brother was, wants to be a better person. He passes selections, gets into the SAS, he's on the right track. Why the fuck does Lieutenant Ghost of the 141 look like he's about to fucking murder him?

Here's the opening 😁

***

Tom held the receiver to his ear and listened to it ring. He could see the man tasked with listening in out of the corner of his eye. They wouldn't recognize this number, maybe they wouldn't answer. He'd just leave a message, but truly he wished-

"Hello?" It was Beth.

"Hey Lov- er, HI, Beth." He wasn't sure where they stood.

"Tom?"

"Yeah."

"Oh thank heavens." Rustling on the other end. Tom could easily imagine she'd just slumped over the kitchen island. The same kitchen island she'd found him slumped against half conscious He'd seen her do it so many times, any time someone on the other end of the phone gave her news that offered relief. So she'd wanted to hear from him? "It's been almost six months, Tom." She sounded tired. She had two young boys to care for, she had a right to be tired.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know." He could've called five months ago. He could've called three months ago. He could've called last week. He had two minutes. "I, er, I've been busy. Been training. Practicin' the CQB. Selections is today. In a few minutes, in fact." He swallowed. His throat was so dry, Beth could probably hear it through the line.

"The SAS, then?"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm."

The clock ticking on the wall was maddening. One minute. Nut up, Riley.

"H-how's Mum?" A frog could've said it clearer.

"She's... oh, y'know... she's coping." Right. Coping. 'The damn army is gonna take both my sons from me! Queen and country, what about your poor mother!?" He wondered if anyone patched the hole in the wall, or replaced the lamp. "Just popped down to the shop with Jo," Beth continued. "'S just me 'n Si-"

"I'm gonna have to hop off, here." He scrambled to stop her sentence. "Gotta... gotta do this." The plastic of the phone groaned under the pressure of him white knuckling it. Beth could probably hear that too.

"Hey." Tom closed his eyes. He deserved whatever tongue lashing he got, but he wished she'd yell. It would be easier. "Y'know, the way we left things..." she sighed. "I miss you. I'm sorry." It would be so much easier if she'd just yell.

"Joseph doesn't deserve a father like that. Not some j-.... The boys, they deserve a father they can be proud of. Not the man I was. But the man I'm becoming." A man like him.

"The man you are, Thomas." Not yet. Maybe not ever. But he'd be damned if he didn't try. "I'm proud of you.... He would be too."

Tom exhaled slowly, desperately grasping at the last of his composure. "Wish me luck." Far from steady, but at least his voice hadn't cracked.

"You don't need me to. You'll do fine."

"If, er, if things go to plan, and I get in, I should still be on track to have some leave. Three weeks."

"You'll come home?" The hope in her voice is what broke him.

"If you'll have me?" There was still an out. She could still send him away. He'd understand if she did.

"Please."

***

Just a lil taste 😋

#ao3 #fanfic wip #fanfiction #fanfic #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #simon ghost riley #tommy riley #whump #modern warfare #ask hoard #ask answered #ask #ask game

[newtonsheffield]

Awww I love author Anthony! When does Kate find out he carries that photo around? Can we get a snippet of that night it was taken?

Let’s see Kate’s point of view

She’s not even really sure how she ended up here. They’d been in the pub, surrounded by their friends with empty glasses strewn on the table around them and Anthony had scoffed.

“Oh, of course you think Frankenstein is trash. Of course you do!”

Kate raised her eyebrows while the rest of the table groaned.

“No! No, we’re having a nice night! Please don’t start arguing.”

Kate smiled and leaned across the table at Anthony, his stupid handsome face making something flutter in her chest. “Convince me, Bridgerton. Convince me that Victor Frankenstein isn’t a complete dickhead who got in over his head.”

“If you don’t understand the metaphor for the fact that we are eventually all brought down by our own hubris, then I can’t explain it to you, Sharma. You’re hopeless.”

“Sounds like you’re scared to convince me. Almost like you… know you can’t.”

His laughter was so beautiful. She hated how nice that sound was. Warm and happy. He ran his hair through his already messy hair. “Katie Kat I could convince you to do so many things.”

God, she wanted him to. She’d thought they’d never be friends the first time they met, and she definitely didn’t think she’d be where she is now, with her heart fluttering in her chest every time she saw him. And she didn’t think when he looked at her through his lashes, a lit cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling between him that she’d say yes so easily.

“I thought you were giving up smoking.”

Anthony sighed, looking wistfully at it, “I know, I know. You hate smokers. I just miss the smell when I’m a few pints deep. Makes me feel like a tortured artist.” He stamped it out on the side of the bin, tossing the cigarette in the ashtray unsmoked. “Are you heading somewhere?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, “Just… back to my dorm.”

Anthony nodded, stepping closer and putting his hands in his pockets, the scarf his mum had made him for Christmas wrapped around his neck. “Are you actually up for a friendly literary debate back at mine?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Their breath had frosting in the air between them as they made their way back to his flat, laughing and giggling about one thing or another. And here they were now.

Kate had pulled off her boots and their coats were abandoned on the floor by the kitchen, empty bottles between them as they sat on the rug in front of the fire, the only light in the room. Anthony’s wire rimmed glasses slid down his nose as he shook his head.

“You are ridiculous!”

“I’m not ridiculous! Angus, Thongs, and full frontal Snogging is a fucking great book for its demographic! I still love that book!”

“I am… obsessed with this confidence.” Anthony grinned, “I’m obsessed with you.”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Kate sighed to herself, taking another long drag from her drink. He would make a move if he wanted to. He’s slept with a quarter of the girls on our course.

“Oh and what were you reading at 12? Were you composing a modern version of Beowulf?”

Anthony flushed, “There was some epic poetry involved, yes.”

Kate laughed, ruffling his hair, “You’re so stupid.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“If you’re so obsessed with me,” She snatched his brother’s Polaroid camera off the coffee table, “Take a picture so it’ll last longer.”

Anthony rolled his eyes at the challenge, “Well strike a pose for me then. Something worth capturing, please madam.”

She waited for the flash and the square of film to shoot out the bottom of the camera and their body’s swayed closer as she peered down at it. “Fuck, you better put that in your wallet, Bridgerton. A memento of this glorious night when we got along. When I looked pretty as hell”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re always fucking beautiful. You know that.”

She could sense the shift in the air. She felt her breath caught in her chest and she was suddenly too aware of how close her body was to his and the heat of the fire radiating between them. She was too aware of how easy it would be for him to close the distance between them, tilt her chin up and claim her lips for himself.

“Do I know that?”

“You should.” His eyes flicked down to her lips and his teeth bit his own, seconds slipping by. “I’m… having a nice time with you.”

“Yeah me too.”

Anthony took a shuddering breath and leaned backwards, slapping his hands against his thighs before he stood, his feet slipping on the floor in his socks. “Another drink while you prepare you Wuthering heights is the worst arguments?”

“Yeah.” Kate cleared her throat, hoping the firelight would distract from her own embarrassment as she pushed it down, “And I know you hate it too so don’t pretend!”

“Maybe I just want to hear your arguments!”

“You’re such a glutton for punishment.”

“Remind me to never bloody let you read my manuscript.”

“No promises there.”

#you never called it what it was #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[resident-gay-bitch]

My Barty Crouch Jr headcannons:

He’s a kleptomaniac - at least to some degree. I think he can’t help but steal things from the people he loves, like he’s just always taking their shit and he has little collections of his favorite people’s things hidden away in his room

He actually has a massive fucking heart and feels so deeply but he doesn’t let anyone know that because his father kept telling him it wasn’t manly to have emotions so he shuts them all up

Death eater or not - wizards or not - stuck in a war or not - no matter fucking what circumstance Barty would actually kill for those he loves. If someone he cares about comes crying about being hurt he would lash out and hurt them back and he would not hesitate to kill them if granted permission

He’s not the healthiest. He smokes compulsively, if he was alive now he’d also vape like it was his last resort.

His diet is basically energy drinks, chips, and plain pieces of bread. He really doesn’t eat much at all so he’s really skinny to the point where it’s concerning and borderline an eating disorder.

He’s never or will never love anyone to the extent that he loves Pandora. He looked at her one day and just decided she was his entire fucking world. She’s the only one he really opens up too, the only one who sees him cry (before his lover), the first person besides his mum who’s ever hugged him and held him and told him he’s worthy of being loved. He would go to the ends of the earth for her, and he really wishes he could just put her in his pocket and protect her from everything. They are the ultimate besties.

Barty falls for every single one of his friends. Some deeper than others. But he gets crushes on anyone that makes the time for him, listens to what he has to say, and genuinely enjoys his presence. There aren’t many that do, so he genuinely fucking clings.

That man would have the most random fucking tattoos ever. They’re mostly cool as shit. Like he’ll have big scary boy tattoos but then smushed in between scorpions and snakes and like demons with blood he’d just have a little ghost with love heart eyes or something. Most of the random ones are because they’re funny or because Pandora said she liked something so he just got a tattoo of it. He also has her name tattood on his chest.

He has had them most retched mullets in his days. He only gets rid of them when Pandora finally breaks and asks him to grow it out. He somehow still gets bitches with those atrocities though.

If he was alive now, he would definitely own a maid costume and would pull it out at the most random times. Regulus / Evan would fucking thirst over it so much.

Acts like a dom outside the bedroom, the most bottom man ever in the bedroom - but he’s cheeky about it

He just wants to be loved at the end of the day

Would 1000% have a dick piercing. Probably even more than one. He would also have a dick tattoo because he’s stupid

His favorite colours are pale forest greens and sky blues

Socks on at all times when he’s around other people or in active mode. The only time they come off is in the shower or bed, and only if he’s in bed alone. Man’s will be butt ass naked without a care but he will still be wearing his socks. He also only owns dumb socks

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE SOME OF YOURS! come put them all in my ask box <3

I do have more but this is what I’m sharing for now :)))

#Barty crouch jr #jay talks #headcannons #Barty headcannon #Barty & Pandora #slytherin skittles #bartylus #rosekiller #marauders

[afewproblems]

62 &/or 71 for platonic stobin perhaps?

62: It's okay to cry & 71: You are the single best thing to happen to me.

Thank you very much for this, I love these prompts and got real carried away with this! I hope you enjoy!

If you had asked Robin Buckley to describe her relationship with Steve Harrington back in her freshman year, she'd laugh in your face. 

Why on earth would King-Steve be caught talking to her, let alone do it enough to constitute a relationship?

He was a popular jock, and Robin was a freshie with a trumpet.

It wasn't how things worked.

Steve operated on the outside of her periphery. She had an awareness of him, his actions in the popular crowd. Like any minor celebrity, the gossip mill ran rampant with tales of King-Steve.

"Harrington scored the winning shot at last night's game! Not many Juniors get opportunities like that!"

"King-Steve told Tommy to leave Harvey alone cuz he's just a freshie, saved him from a swirlie -swear to God man".

“Yeah well, I heard he broke Byer’s camera the other day, so--”

"Have you seen his hair, ugh he's so dreamy!"

To which Robin thought, 'I've seen him leave half a bagel of crumbs all over his English notes, how dreamy can he be?'

And to top it all off, Tammy Thompson wouldn't stop staring at him, twirling her long blond hair around her pink varnished nails while reading sonnets from Romeo and Juliet loudly at her cafeteria table, trying valiantly to catch his eye --peak romance right there.

But Robin wasn't quite ready to think about how much she wished Tammy would bat those long lashes at her, nah, hating Steve Harrington was easier. 

Besides, he had no idea she existed, right? 

Robin grabs a can of Coke from the fridge, reaching into her pocket for change before joining her mother at the till.

The corner store was all the way out on Main Street, but still closer to home than Mevalds or the grocer on Parsons so Mrs Buckley had stopped for a few things on their way back from Robin's band practice. 

She slides the change onto the counter and pops the tab before throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "I'll go wait by the car mum". 

Mrs.Buckley nods distractedly, waving her hand with a smile and she hunts through her purse for her checkbook.

Robin makes her way down the aisle to the entrance, the little bell above the door jingles lightly. She steps over the threshold into cool November air and shrugs her jacket collar up against the chill. 

She sighs as she looks back through the window, her mom seems to be taking her sweet time, chatting with the clerk now and going through her checkbook with a smile. 

A muffled groan catches her attention from across the lot, she tilts her head towards the sound and startles when she spots Steve Harrington, the bane of her existence, leaning against a car with a can of soda pressed to his beaten bloody face. 

He hasn't seen her, his eyes are trained at a point just ahead of him as he rolls the can over his split cheek. 

What the hell?

Robin leans away, keeping herself behind her mom's station wagon and out of his sight line. 

Who would have kicked the shit out of old King-Steve? And where were his two cronies Hagan and Perkins? She had so many questions and--

Steve sniffs once, pushing the heel of his free hand into his eye as he drops the hand holding the can.

Oh.

Robin suddenly feels as though she's intruding on something private. Watching this boy she's never talked to, who she saw last Monday walking with the rest of the basketball team into the cafeteria, Nancy Wheeler hanging off his arm with an affectionate roll of her eyes and the biggest grin plastered all over his dumb face.

But this Steve is hurt and alone and smaller than she's ever seen him before.

It's bizarre.

Suddenly he's moving, throwing the can to the gravel and stepping off the car before sliding his arm across his face in one motion, he clears his throat and throws open the driver's side door.

The engine of his beemer roars to life just as Robin's mother exits the store, she frowns as Steve peels out of the parking lot, brakes squealing.

"Honestly, why they give teenagers licenses, I'll never know," Mrs.Buckley mutters under her breath as she unlocks the car and hands Robin the paper bag, "do you know that boy?"

Robin watches as the tail lights of Steve's car disappear around the corner, the image of his hunched shoulders and black eye branded in her mind's eye. 

Robin shrugs once as she opens the passenger door, "Not really".  

***

It's not until two years later that Robin crosses paths with Steve again, slinging ice cream with the former King down at the new mall.

Her first job and it’s at some horrible sailor themed ice cream shop of all places and to top it all off, she’s stuck with Steve Harrington.

Sure, she'd seen him in passing at school, watching as he slowly fell away from the popular crowd. While it was somewhat satisfying to see Tammy pretend she had never really been interested in the former King of Hawkins High, she couldn't help but remember the way Steve looked that day, face bloody, holding a cold can of pop to the worst of the bruises.

Robin can't help but wonder just what had suddenly turned Harrington's life completely on its head that day. She'd heard it was Jonathan that had beaten him up, but given how weirdly close he, Nancy, and Steve got after that cold November day, she didn't really believe it. 

Wasn't he rich too? He drove a BMW to work for chrissakes. So why was he here?

And then there’s the kids. 

They follow him around like ducklings, begging for rides during his spare time and free samples of ice cream on the days he’s working.

It would be endearing with anyone else, but it’s Steve Harrington. 

They've been working with one another for about two weeks before it happens again.

Robin idly sprays the glass display case with the spray bottle from the back. Whatever green liquid is in the unlabeled bottle smells absolutely foul but it's the only thing in the store powerful enough to get rid of all the finger and face prints on the glass from kids standing on their tiptoes to see the flavors.

They end up having to clean the customer side of the window far more often than their employee side and normally she and Steve will flip a coin for it.

Neither of them enjoy being out from behind the counter, the shorts and the socks are reason enough for this, but it also has the negative effect of piquing enough customer interest to interrupt their down time, like the movement and streak free glass shine draws their eyes.

But, nine times out of ten Steve would ‘lose’ and pick up the spray bottle without complaint. 

Robin had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, but why the hell would Harrington do something like that? 

She wrinkles her freckled nose and starts wiping the glass, clearing away the smudges and dirt before spraying again to get at the more stubborn fingerprints.

Steve is late today, which is weird. 

Another surprise from Hawkins golden-boy, Robin would have expected Steve to waltz in twenty minutes late to every shift, with a scowl on his face and a refusal to pull his weight. 

But it was the opposite. 

Steve would get there early, he would review the cleaning list for the day, check the inventory to see what ice creams would need to be restocked and what the special was for the day. 

The only thing Steve had ever asked her to do, was to write out the specials on the board. 

When Robin had scoffed and asked why he couldn't do it himself, Steve had gotten very quiet, chewed his lip for a beat and said, "I don't want to mess it up, or have you have to redo it for me". 

Steve shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, "sometimes the letters are weird when I read and then it makes it harder to write them out”.

He sighs but it comes out more like a scoff, “there’s a reason I’m still here Buckley”.

Oh…so the golden boy of Hawkins High would not be leaving for college in the fall then. 

He looked at her, his big eyes traced over her face as though he were looking for any hint of a laugh.

And what else could she do in the moment but pick up the dry erase marker and shoulder him out of the way of the board with a, ‘you owe me dingus’. 

She turned her face away at the small smile Steve gave her, ignoring the twinge in her chest at his tiny confession. 

God Dammit, he was not endearing, he wasn’t!

Robin balls up the rag she used to wipe down the glass and looks up to the wall clock on the far side of the food court. 

It’s nearly eleven in the morning and Steve is still not here, she’s tempted to use the phone in the back to call his house when she remembers she has no clue what his phone number is or if it would even be listed.

She’s sure he’s scheduled with her today; it’s Tuesday, they always work Tuesdays together. 

Robin looks around the food court, scoping out the entrances and nearby tables. There’s no sign of him, no obnoxious hair, no big goofy grin, or big hazel eyes to be found. 

She huffs and makes her way to the back room, pushing the swing door open hard enough that it makes a satisfying bang against the wall. 

She freezes at the sudden yelp from the back corner. 

Steve whirls away from her, his face tipped into his open locker, his shoulders are a tense hunched line. It's a horribly familiar pose and once again Robin can’t help but feel like she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t.

“Steve?” she says softly, taking another step into the room, “whats--”

“I know I’m late,” he mumbles, the words are tight but there’s no waiver to them, “sorry”.

Robin wishes she were better at this sort of thing --her mom always seemed to know what to do and what to say when people were upset. That skill definitely skipped a generation in her case. 

He turns to face her, slowly, one hand on his nose, the other holding his wrist against his chest.

There’s an ugly, rapidly purpling bruise running down his arm where it’s cradled. The shape is strange, almost as if someone had grabbed him - it runs around the entire circumference of his forearm and--

Oh.

Steve eyes her challengingly but there’s no real heat in it, his eyes slightly shiny in the awful humming fluorescent lights.

“Actually,” Robin swallows roughly after nearly a full minute, clearing her throat as she leans back on her heels, “Uh, Marcus said we only needed one person on today, it’s slow as shit so,” she shrugs and tilts her head to the employee entrance, “you could go home if you want”.

Steve stares at her, his eyes raking over her face the same way he did after the white board incident, before he sniffs once and shakes his head, muttering under his breath that he’d rather get hit by a bus and Robin stiffens at the implication.

“You’re a terrible liar Buckley,” he says eventually, closing his locker and running a slightly shaky hand through his hair before walking towards her and the storefront, “but thanks,” Steve says softly as he passes. 

“Does that mean I can go home?” Robin calls after him, immediately wincing but pleased at the startled laugh she hears from the counter.

She follows him out front, slowly, suddenly feeling with absolute certainty that she really doesn’t know Steve Harrington at all.

***

Robin never thought she would be here. 

Not once did she think she would have ever come out to someone while she was still in highschool, let alone the former King of Hawkins high who would in turn become her best friend, her platonic soul-mate if you would. 

After the debacle that was their official last shift with Scoops Ahoy and the Russian Spy Alternate dimension bullshit where Steve risked his damn life to save her and the kids --who all knew about this monster filled Upside Down just by the by. 

So many things suddenly made so much sense, Steve and his injuries over the years, his weird relationship with Nancy and Jonathan, even the sudden personality 180.

And through the truth serum, the torture, the fire, and running down another car driven by a maniac from California, Steve was there to hold her hand, and Robin is infinitely grateful for it.

They take a job together at Family Video, attached at the hip ever since the mall burned down in July; the video store is one of the few places still hiring that summer that pays a dollar above minimum wage. 

It’s not exactly glamorous, it’s mostly restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes but it’s easy and the hours are good. 

She and Steve are able to get their shifts together most of the time, they both know this is so Keith can avoid working with Steve directly -a bonus if there ever was one. 

Things have been quiet ever since Billy’s death and the Mind Flayer’s obliteration from their world, but it’s been especially quiet since the Byer’s packed up and moved to California. 

Most of that seems to be influenced by the cloud of sadness that has draped itself over the rest of the kids and Nancy -who has been coming by more and more lately, stopping in at Family Video and lingering in the evenings, chatting with Steve while Robin shelves the returns. 

It wouldn’t even have made a blip on Robin’s radar if not for the way Steve would shut down for the rest of their close after Nancy left. 

He refuses to speak more than one word answers, refuses to engage with Robin’s one sided bantering as she balances the till and shuts down the neon Open sign.

It’s nothing like after she saw the bruises at Scoops, nothing like the quiet acknowledgement that the Harrington house wasn’t all money and sunshine the way she thought it was. 

And Robin doesn’t know what to do about it.

It’s been going on for weeks now, and she’ll be starting school again soon. She won't be able to take the same number of shifts as she could over the summer months, and Robin has no idea what will happen when she’s not there as a buffer anymore.

It’s the last week of August when she brings it up to him.

“Steve?” she says as she hands him another copy of The Terminator tape for him to rewind; it’s nearly nine at night and Nancy hasn’t been by at all today. Robin’s stomach has been in knots watching Steve watch the windows for her all night. 

He tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow at her as Robin breathes in deeply through her nose, her heart suddenly in her throat. 

“Just,” she bites her lip, “what is going on with you and Nancy?” 

Oh, perfect, real subtle.

All at once Steve’s face shutters.  

“No, come on, don’t do that,” Robin wheedles, stepping in front of him, “Steve, just talk to me--”

“There’s nothing to talk about, just drop it Robin,” he bites out as he steps around her to grab the returns cart and wheel it over to the New Release shelf.

“No, nope,” she huffs, walking quickly to the other side of the cart and grab the handles, “this is against all the laws of best-friendom”.

“That's not a word,” he mumbles tiredly, reaching up to pinch his nose and close his eyes. 

Ah shit. 

“Dingus, Steve,” Robin says softly as she lets go of the handles and steps closer into his space, “talk to me?”

Steve hesitates, seeming to chew the words or the inside of his cheek - she can’t quite tell at this point, before he blinks once, twice, his eyes rapidly becoming shinier by the second.

Oh double shit.

He shakes his head and turns away from her sharply and Robin doesn’t know what to do with her hands as Steve takes a deep wobbly breath. 

“It’s okay you know,” she finds herself saying softly as she takes a step closer, “to cry?”

Steve barks out a wet laugh and shakes his head again, still not looking at her.

“I don’t know what to do, like literally,” Robin whispers in a panicked voice, “can I, I mean, do you want a hug?”

He nods but doesn’t move as Robin steps even closer to wrap her arms loosely around his waist, he’s stiff in her embrace but slowly begins to relax the longer they stand there - as though he’s not used to something like this.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I am here if you want to talk, or if you even just want to vent - man I want to vent,” Robin says, pulling back slightly to look Steve in the eyes, “don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is Nancy doing?”

Steve stills in her arms but she keeps going, “honestly, aren’t she and Jonathan still dating?” 

“Like I get that he’s all the way in California but why is she coming in here, and don’t tell me it's about the movies --she never asks me to help find anything, just you, and half the time she doesn't even end up renting anything?”

Robin stops as Steve’s breath hitches once, “it's not fair to you,” she finishes lamely, her voice petering out as Steve nods and sighs, finally bringing his own arms around Robin’s shoulders to draw her closer and bury his face in her hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers in her ear as he squeezes her tight enough to leave her nearly breathless.

“You’re the only person I can actually talk to that won’t think less of me about, about everything,” he whispers into her hair, Robin’s hands twitch as she fists his work vest between her fingers. 

“I think, you are the single best thing to have happened to me in the last like, two years Robs,” the words are constricted, as though he has to drag them out, “and…I need to tell you something”.

Robin nods as he pulls away this time to look at her, his red rimmed eyes trace over her face, just like they had at Scoops all those months ago.

“I,” he swallows and drops his gaze to the floor, “I don’t…feel that way about Nancy anymore,” Steve says quietly. 

“But you seem so upset whenever she leaves, you were looking for her today?” Robin says, confusion painting her words. 

Steve sighs and tips his head back this time, looking at the ceiling as though the answer is hidden among the ceiling tiles and water stains. 

“It's complicated, I…” his mouth opens and closes for a beat, “I am sad for her that Jonathan is gone - he was a better fit for Nancy, way better than me,” he mutters and looks at Robin once more. 

“And I know what she's doing, coming in here all the time, she’s lonely, but that's not why I’m upset Birdy”.

Robin frowns, “then what--”

“There’s this guy,” Steve blurts out, speaking over her in a rush.

Robin feels herself stop breathing, what?

His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as he continues, “I-I’ve never told anyone this before”.

“Okay, okay,” Robin whispers, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he moves even closer and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs into her vest and hair, his breath warm and wet as his chest stutters and heaves. 

“It’s okay,” she says again, repeating the words she’s told herself the last three years, “you’re okay”.

“Loving Nancy is easy, but I…” he sniffs and breathes out, Robin feels a gathering wetness on her shoulder but it only makes her hug him harder.

“But you don’t,” she says softly, finishing his sentence for him.

Steve nods and lets out another shaky breath, finally lifting his face from her shoulder.

He’s a mess, face red and blotchy, tear tracks and snot shine in the streetlights from outside the video store window. Steve’s eyes are red and puffy and his mouth has stretched into an uncharacteristic frown that makes Robin’s chest ache. 

Now Robin’s mother may have been an expert on making people feel better no matter the occasion, but Robin was an expert on putting her foot in her mouth and making Steve laugh.

And the latter felt much more appropriate at this moment. 

“I mean, you’ve come to the right person at any rate,” she says sagely, reaching up to wipe a loose tear from his nose, he snorts and bats her hand away.

“I’m serious, if anyone is an expert in gay pining, it’s me, I’ve seen it all, if you want pointers in watching from afar and daydreaming about your illegal wedding, I’m your lady”.

Steve laughs and steps back to wipe his face roughly with both hands, it does nothing to sooth the puffy skin beneath his eyes but at least the last trace of tears are gone. 

“I’m also an expert,” she chews her lip for a moment, considering carefully how to put it into words, “on how all of this feels, and how new and scary it can be,” she says softly, “trust me, I’ve been there”. 

Steve nods, his eyes shining all over again as he tugs Robin closer into another bone crushing hug.

Just in time for the bell above the door to chime. 

Well shit.

They step away from one another, glad for the distance from the front door to the counter, knowing exactly how that might have looked to the average customer so late into the evening.

“Hey man,” Robin calls out as Steve turns away from the door to hide his face, “just letting you know we close in five so…”

The man nods, he looks familiar, Robin’s fairly certain she’s seen him at school but she can’t remember the name. 

His wild curly hair and jean vest decked out in patches and pins scream, ‘Metal-Head’, as does the ever present cloud of tobacco and weed smell that follows him and around the shelves. He makes a beeline for the small horror section at the back and grabs a tape before making his way to the counter. 

“No worries Buckley, knew exactly what I wanted, I won’t hold you and Harrington up --hey man,” he says brightly, two dimples bloom as he smiles in Steve's direction who flinches at being addressed. 

Steve slowly turns and tries for a smile, “hey Eddie,” he mumbles.

Eddie’s smile drops as his eyes trace over Steve’s face, “woah, what happened sweet-uh,” he looks at Robin once before moving back to Steve, “dude, uh, sweet dude?”

Oh no fucking way.

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks slowly getting pinker the longer Eddie and Robin stare at him, “nothing, I promise, um are you still okay to take Dustin to Indy tomorrow to the hobby shop?”

Eddie nods and smiles, though there’s still a hint of worry in his eyes as he slides the tape over the counter, “wouldn’t miss it, gotta get that kid ready for Hellfire initiation after all,” he says with a wink.

“I figured if you didn’t have anything after we could watch this at mine,” Eddie continues nervously this time, gesturing to the tape Steve scans through. 

For the third time since she’s known Steve, Robin feels as though she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t, only this time it doesn’t fill her with anxiety or uncertainty, and she’s never felt more invisible.

“I’d like that,” Steve says softly as Eddie beams at him, wrapping his knuckles against the counter as he hands Steve three one dollar bills.

“Sounds like a plan my liege,” Eddie hums as he bows with a flourish, coaxing a laugh out of Steve who is smiling like a loon beside Robin, “you bring the popcorn, I’ll take care of everything else,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks backwards towards the entrance before tipping an imaginary hat in farewell as he disappears out the door.

“That is not pining!” Robin shrieks as she whirls around on Steve the moment they see Eddie get into his van, “that was full blown flirting, how long has this been going on??”

“I’m sorry--”

“Nuh uh, you’ve been getting kissy with him, and you didn’t tell me? You got to have your first kiss before me??”

“We haven’t kissed Robin, christ we haven’t done anything--”

“Life is so fucking unfair, you had to be a ‘ladies’ and a ‘man’s’ man, huh?” She scoffs as she walks to the front of the store and switches off the sign and bolts the door for good measure.

Robin turns around only to find Steve staring at her, a nervous expression warps his normally handsome face.

Dammit.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, “I am still so proud of you for telling me, but you have to admit this is unjust,” she mutters in what she hopes is a reassuring voice.

“You think he likes me then?” Steve wonders aloud as he looks from Robin to the door that Eddie left through with a small smile.

Robin drops her face into her hands, this is the man she’s chosen for her platonic soul-mate?

“You are literally going on a date tomorrow,” she grumbles irritatedly, “I watched him ask you out, not even ten seconds ago Steve”.

The smile he sends her way is blinding, and once again Robin is reminded just how much she loves this doofus, how she never would have imagined herself here as a freshman with a trumpet.

“You are calling me after,” she demands as Steve pops the till to begin cashing out while Robin hops up to sit on the counter and fill out the paperwork, “if I can’t teach you about pining then you damn well owe me a class about dating”.

Steve laughs brightly as he lays down the bills and change, giving Robin a soft grin which she returns, finally feeling as though she knows Steve Harrington much better than most.

#platonic stobin #i went with one sided enemies to friends to platonic soulmates #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic soulmates #prompt list ask game #thank you very much for this one #as you can see I got very carried away #presteddie #eddie munson #afewproblems answers #afewproblems writes #implied child abuse #some angst for our boy #angst with a happy ending

[forays-into-fiction]

Flower Power

Your parents are total hippies and honestly, they’d give you weed whenever you want, but that doesn’t stop you from going to Eddie to buy it from him. Never mind that flirty little rapport the two of you share... it never goes anywhere. Except tonight it does, when you make an impulsive move.

Request fill for @niallerlover8022​, sorry it’s taken so long, hope you enjoy it 😊

Minors DNI

Contains: Slight Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Hippie!Reader, Drug Use (Weed), Protected Sex, Public Sex, Fingering, Petnames/Nicknames (Babe, Baby, Sweetheart, Flower Power), Slight Degradation/Name-calling (Dirty Girl), Dirty Talk

Your friend Gareth first introduced you to Eddie and since then you’d been buying your weed from him exclusively, despite the fact you could get it from your parents literally whenever and for free.

You had arranged to meet with him after school today to replenish your stash but also because it gave you an excuse to see him. Over time the two of you had developed a flirty rapport, but much to your chagrin it never led to anything concrete.

You were waiting for him by his van at the end of the day when you heard him call out, waving as he drew closer, “Hey, Flower Power! Sorry you had to wait babe, I got caught up talking D&D with some of the guys.”

You give him a gentle smile, looking up at him through your lashes, “Oh, that’s ok. Really, it’s no problem at all, I wasn’t waiting that long.”

He offers you his arm and leads you round to the back of the van, opening the doors and helping you in before climbing in after you.

You sit cross-legged on one of the patterned cushions he’d placed in the back for times like this. The two of you had started this routine where almost every time you’d buy from him, you’d smoke up together in the back of his van.

“So, you just after the usual, sweetheart?” He asks pulling out his little black lunchbox.

“Yes, please.” You smile at him sweetly and bat your eyelashes.

He pulls out a baggie and dangles it in front of you between his fingers, “Okie dokie, that’ll be fifteen.”

You frown at him, “Eddie I know you’re undercharging me. What is it really?”

He gasps in mock shock, holding a hand to his chest, “I would never. That is really the price.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Don’t lie to me Munson.”

“Alright fine, I’m undercharging you… but that’s just the friends and family discount, and you are my best customer after all.”

Your expression softens, “Awww, we’re friends?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart… unless” his confidence melts away and he looks away shyly, tone shifting, “… unless you don’t… that isn’t what this is?”

You put an arm on his shoulder, bringing his eyes back to yours, you assure him, “Of course we are friends, I’m not just here for the weed. I like hanging out with you Eddie.”

He breathes out a soft sigh, “Good. Good. That’s good. So, uhh… you wanna…?”

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we could head back to my place this time.” You suggest.

He looks at you uncertainly, “What about your parents? Are they home?”

You giggle, “Have you seen my parents? Man, they’re hippies, where do you think I get it from? They smoke more than I do, shit my mum was the one who taught me how to roll a joint. Relax it’s cool and we’ve got all the best snacks you can believe that.”

He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, “Oh, uh sure yeah that sounds good.”

He sits there still not moving, you prompt him, “Well? We gonna go or…?”

“Oh, uh yeah… just let me…” he moves towards the doors of the van and you follow.

He offers you his hand when you get out and leads you to the passenger side helping you in yet again. You can’t help the heat that rises in your cheeks, he was always so sweet to you, you can’t imagine how he’d gotten a reputation for being ‘mean and scary’.

You direct him all the way to your house chatting pleasantly along the way. You talk about the latest Corroded Coffin performance and mention that you can’t wait for the next one, he playfully teases you a little about being his ‘fangirl’.

As you open your front door you call out, “Hey, mum I’m home! Eddie’s here too, he gave me a lift.”

She emerges from the kitchen, greeting you with a smile, “Oh so this is the famous ‘Eddie’. I finally get to meet him, do I?”

“Muuuum, stop it.” You whine.

Eddie shifts by your side clearing his throat, “Um, hello ma’am it’s nice to meet you. I’m Eddie… Munson, but I guess you knew that.”

“Oh, isn’t he sweet. It’s lovely to meet you young man, come inside.  Please come in.” She beckons him in.

You look to her, “Is it ok if we go up to my room, we’re just gonna smoke a little and hang out?”

“Of course, I’ve just made some brownies too if you get a little snack-y, feel free to help yourselves.”

“Thanks mum.” You grab Eddie by the hand, dragging him up the stairs.

“Your mum is nice… what did she mean by ‘famous’?”

You can feel that traitorous heat rising in your cheeks again as you stumble over your words, “Oh… that’s umm that’s nothing, don’t mind that. I may have mentioned you a couple of times… no big deal.”

“You talk about me with your mum?”

“What, don’t you talk about your friends with your uncle?”

“Uh yeah, I guess… but he’s never referred to any of my friends as ‘famous’.”

“Like I said, don’t read too much into it. Well, here we are.” You step into your colourful, flowery bedroom and gesture around the room.

“Oh, I love it Flower Power, it’s very you.”

You lead him over to your bed and take a seat, motioning for him to join you, “We’re gonna share mine this time, just so you know.”

“What? No, I can’t smoke the weed you literally just bought from me. Don’t be ridiculous, I always smoke from my private stash.”

You slap his arm playfully, “Yeah, well that stops now Mr. Friends and Family discount.”

“No, I can’t.” He protests again.

“You can and you will.” You insist.

He rolls his eyes, “Fine.”

You grin at him self-satisfied, “Alright, so do you wanna roll or should I?”

“I got it sweetheart, you just sit back and relax, maybe throw on some music.” He pulls out everything he needs and begins laying it out over your bed.

You toss him the baggie he’d given you only minutes prior and hop off the bed, placing one of your records on, music emanates throughout the room softly. You join him on the bed again watching him work as he grinds the dried flowers, placing them onto one of his rolling papers. 

You eye his thick, calloused fingers as he goes and your whole body heats with lust as he makes eye contact while he licks the edge of the paper with the tip of his tongue.

He twists it off and lights the end, rolling it between his fingers to get that perfect cherry.

He holds the joint out to you and before you can protest, he says, “You first, I insist since you did pay me for it and all.”

“Oh, this is some first-rate service, do you offer this to all your customers?” You giggle and take a couple of puffs before handing it over to him, he accepts it before replying.

“Nah, just you babe… most of my other customers can’t get rid of me fast enough once a deal is done.”

You reach out a hand and stroke his arm, “Oh, Eddie that’s horrible… I’m sorry people treat you like that. I know, I just know if people got to know you, they’d love you.”

“Sweetheart, what are you apologising for? It’s not like it’s your fault people don’t like me… and besides I’d rather have my close little group of friends than have everyone like me.”

He passes the joint back to you, “Yeah, I guess… I just wish they didn’t treat you like such shit.”

“Yeah, I know, but the people that really matter… well they’re great to me.”

“Good… so, moving on to more cheerful things, I umm have something to show you… here…” You hand him the joint and hop off the bed.

He grins back at you, “Oh, yeah? What’s that sweetheart?”

You move over to your desk, picking up a sheet of paper before turning back to him and taking a few steps back to the bed. You hold it up before him and announce, “I drew up this Corroded Coffin poster… thought if you liked it, I could get some copies made and we could hang them around town, around the school.”

“Oh, sweetheart I love it, you really captured our style too.”

“Thanks that’s what I was going for, um if you want me to change anything before I get the copies made-”

“No, honestly it is perfect, don’t change a thing. Now get back here, still got a few more hits from this.” He wiggles the joint between his fingers.

You re-join him and continue passing the joint back and forth until it’s burnt down to nothing, he discards the roach in an ashtray on your bedside table and flops back onto the bed. 

You lay back beside him staring up at the ceiling sighing contentedly. A few moments pass and you reach over and poke at his side, he squirms away giggling.

“I’m hungry, are you hungry? Want me to get some snacks?”

“Well, you did promise the best snacks, so my expectations are very high.” He pokes you back.

You roll off your bed, tossing a, “Be right back.” over your shoulder as you go.

You pile a plate with brownies and various other snacks that tickle your fancy as you move through the kitchen. You almost bump into your mum as you head back to the staircase, “You two having fun? Need anything else?”

“Nah, we’re all good, thanks mum.”

“Alright, well if you do need anything I’m here.”

You nod and head back upstairs, when you re-enter your bedroom, you present the plate with a little “Tada…”

Eddie props himself up on his elbows looking at you with a dopey grin before stretching out a hand making grabbing motions, “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

You grin back at him and place the plate on the bed before taking a seat cross-legged in front of him.

He dives right in without any hesitation, shovelling a brownie into his mouth. He lets out an obscene groan and moans, “God, these are fucking gooood. You weren’t kidding huh?”

“I never joke about snacks.” You say in mock seriousness before bursting into peals of laughter and grabbing one for yourself.

The two of you continue to chat and giggle until your buzz starts wearing off and he’s saying goodbye at the front door, “See you at school, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. We should hang out here again sometime though.” You suggest.

“Absolutely, I’d love that sweetheart, tell your mum I said thanks for the snacks and that her brownies are amazing.”

“Will do, drive safe.” You wave at him.

He laughs and waves back, “No promises. See ya.”

“Bye.”

When Monday comes around you spot him by his locker, you approach him carrying a stack of papers. You pull one off the top and hold it up for him to see. You’d had copies of the poster made and thought the two of you, maybe even the rest of the band could hang some today.

He grins at you broadly, “Hey, Flower Power. Thanks for doing this, it’s really cool. How much do I owe ya?”

You look up at him confused, “Huh?”

“For the posters. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, nothing. You don’t owe me anything, I wanted to do this.”

“Ah, ah, ah, no I gotta pay you or something. This can’t have been cheap and it would’ve taken a lot of time and effort. You gotta let me do something.”

“Alright, fine… umm, you can… you can buy me a drink tomorrow night at The Hideout. How’s that?”

“Ok and the next time you need a resupply it’s on me.”

You slap his arm, “Eddie no you’re already giving me a discount, I don’t need any more than that.”

“No complaints sweetheart, you will take it.” He says firmly with a smirk.

“O-ok.” You reply shakily, clearing your throat before you continue, “So, where do you wanna hang these? Do you wanna give a few to the rest of the guys to put up?”

He shrugs, “Yeah sure why not? We can just put them wherever.”

He holds out a hand, “Here, I’ll put them in my locker for now and we can give them to the guys at lunch and hang some then.”

You hand them over with a nod and he places them oh so carefully into his locker beside a couple of D&D books.

“Walk you to class?” He offers.

“Sure, let’s go.” You take his offered arm and make your way to your next lesson.

Before you know it, it’s Tuesday night and you’re getting ready to watch the guys performing at The Hideout, Eddie was giving Jeff and Clarke a lift, along with hauling all their gear and Gareth had offered to drive you.

He was downstairs waiting for you to get ready, you pull on your favourite pair of bell bottom jeans and riffle through your closet to find a top, picking out something flowery and paisley and flowy. 

You rush to find bits and pieces to tie together the rest of your outfit. You stumble down the stairs, calling out a hasty goodbye to your parents before pulling Gareth out the door along with you.

He smirks at you and you frown at him, “What’s that look for Gare-bear?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He replies evasively.

You slap his arm, “No, that smug little smirk was not nothing!”

“I know you took extra long getting ready just for him. This little crush you’ve had going-”

You roll your eyes, cutting him off, “Oh, shut up.”

“No really, all batting your eyelashes, ‘I made this poster for you Eddie, I hope you like it’ c’mon it’s obvious.” He continues to tease, putting on a falsetto and batting his own eyelashes.

“Alright, just watch the fucking road, Emerson.” You grumble sinking down into your seat arms folded over your chest.

“Oh, ‘Emerson’ now, is it? What happened to ‘Gare-bear’? I know I’m right.”

“Ugh so what if you are, that doesn’t mean you gotta tease me.” You whine.

“Awww is someone getting all pouty? Just make a move if he won’t, he’s into you too I know it.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You wave a hand at him dismissively.

“Anyway, here we are.” He announces as you pull into the parking lot at The Hideout.

You get out of the car, slamming the door shut, he does the same and as his head pops over the top of the car you call out to him, “Thanks for the lift, Gare-bear.”

The two of you part ways as you enter the bar, the rest of the band were already there setting up their equipment.

You’re over this silly game of cat and mouse you and Eddie had, flirting back and forth but never actually going anywhere. An impulsive thought overtakes you, you slip away into the bathrooms. 

Squeezing into a stall you slide off your bell bottoms and remove your panties, you just wished you’d worn something a little ‘sexier’, some lingerie or something, but whatever. You pull your jeans back up and tuck the panties into your fist so that they don’t show.

You spot him over by the stage and call out his name as you approach.

“Hey there Flower Power, looking good. Did you want that drink now or after our set?” He greets you as you come to a stop in front of him, Gareth standing off to the side.

You hold up your hand letting the panties dangle in front of him briefly, his eyes bug out when he realises what they are and you ball them up shoving them deep in his front pocket.

“For luck…” you reach up and kiss the tip of his nose gently before spinning around and flouncing off to re-join the other patrons of the bar.

He stands there shell-shocked, mouth agape when Gareth speaks up, “Man close your damn mouth and hurry up we got a show right now.”

“Wh-what… what the fuck was that?” He stutters back.

“Come on like it wasn’t obvious? She likes you, why do you think she’s always coming to our gigs, buying from you, just hanging around in general.”

“Uh cause she’s your friend… my friend… what?” He’s still dumbfounded.

Gareth rolls his eyes, “Whatever man just get on stage.”

They take the stage and begin the first song, you’re mesmerised by him, the way his fingers move, the way he throws himself into the performance and when he starts singing, God you’re lost to it.

Then what you’d just done catches up to you. You’d brought a joint to share with Eddie after the show but your nerves were shot to hell all of a sudden. You mumble to yourself as you pull it out lighting it up, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why’d you do that? Oh, shit.”

You take a few puffs before your eyes are drawn back to the stage to find him looking directly at you. You’re falling to pieces, already dripping at the sight of him, nothing to catch your arousal but the coarse denim between your legs.

Once they’re done with their set Eddie turns to his friends as they break down their gear, “Uh hey, Emerson do you mind giving the guys a lift tonight? I’ll still take all the gear but I gotta stick around and talk to y/n.”

Gareth smirks at him knowingly, “Sure Munson, go get ‘er big boy.”

“Uh yeah… thanks.” He mumbles resuming his work.

Jeff claps him on the shoulder, “Hey, man we got this, just go talk to your girl.”

“Right, yeah ok.” He nods, hesitating a moment before hopping off the stage.

You tense as he approaches you, shifting nervously and avoiding eye contact, “So, umm… how ‘bout that drink then?”

 “Could we… could we talk first, maybe outside?”

You nod mutely and follow along after him as he moves to stand by his van.

You both go to talk at once, “Is it-”

“I’m sorry-”

“You first.” He offers.

“I’m sorry, don’t know why I did that. Sorry if I ruined things between us.”

“Oh, sweetheart no, you have nothing to be sorry for. I um I was going to say… or ask really… um Emerson said you ‘like’ me. That, that’s the reason why you come to my gigs, buy weed from me, always hanging around… is that… is that true?”

You pause awkwardly as you’re interrupted by his band mates hefting their equipment over to his van, he helps them load it in before returning to you as they scurry back into the bar.

“So, um… where were we?” He rubs a hand along the back of his neck.

You toe at the ground avoiding his gaze, “Um you were asking if I like you and… well I do, but it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same…”

He hooks a finger under your chin tilting your head towards him, “Who said I don’t feel the same? Is that really why you come to our gigs and buy weed from me?”

“Uh yeah, I mean my parents grow the damn stuff, I can get it from them whenever I want. Why the fuck did you think I was always coming to you?”

“Oh, baby you didn’t have to do that if you wanted to spend time with me you coulda just asked, you know.”

“Yeah… but I didn’t know how.”

“Well, uh that thing with your panties that was a pretty bold move.” He chuckles.

You slap him across the chest, “Hey, don’t tease me.”

“I’m not. I’m not. It was very… sexy.” He all but purrs in your ear.

“Kiss me?” You whine.

“With pleasure.” He captures your lips between his own, nibbling along your bottom lip. He deepens the kiss as your mouth drops open with a gasp.

When he pulls away, looking at you with hooded eyes and growls, “Fuck you’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. Been so fucking hard since the second you shoved your panties into my pocket.”

You groan in response, “Fuck Eddie, I’ve been horny since the moment you stepped on that stage, you always look so sexy up there with that guitar. Makes me wanna rip off all my clothes and throw myself at you. You’ve never seen me after one of your shows, soon as I get home, I can’t keep my hands off of myself.”

“Shit, really?” He breathes out in disbelief.

“Uh huh, do ya wanna um take this further?”

“Like right now? I um… there’s not much room in the van right now.”

“Don’t care… just want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure baby, all of this isn’t just cause you’re high right? I know sometimes you get horny when you’re high.”

“Oh my god shut up and fuck me, Munson! I wouldn’t care even if you fucked me against the side of your van… need you, Eddie.” You devolve into a needy moan.

“Oh, really? Need me so bad you don’t even care if people see us, do you?” He taunts as he cages you in against the side of his van with his arms, his gaze turning predatory.

All you can do is whine in response and he persists bringing a hand over to stroke along your cheek, “Or maybe that’s what you want, huh? You want people to see us, does that turn you on?”

“Fuck, Eddie… please…” You gasp as he ducks his head, leaning in to kiss down the side of your neck, sucking and biting along the way.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He insists firmly, “You want me to fuck you out here in the open or do you wanna cram into the back and fuck all over our gear?”

“Shit… I dunno, you… you decide.” You gasp and rub your thighs together as his hands begin to wander, your wetness flooding your jeans anew.

“Nuh uh, you know what you want. You just gotta say it sweetheart.”

You search your lust addled mind, what do you want… would you rather be pressed against all their instruments in that cramped space or would you rather be pushed up against the hard exterior of his van… for anyone who walks by to see…

It’s unlikely that anyone would just be walking past, being on the outskirts of town in a dimly lit parking lot. The only way someone would see you is if any of the few bar patrons were to come outside. Would they though? It’s hard to say…

You reply shakily, “Want… want you to fuck me out here… please.”

He grins at you smugly, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Who knew you were such a dirty girl?”

He forces your legs apart with one of his, pressing his knee into your heated core as he continues kissing you and groping at your chest.

You whimper at the sensation, but interrupt him with a tap to the shoulder, he looks up immediately with a concerned expression, “Eddie… wait, could we… could we move to the other side?”

A puzzled look overtakes his features, “What do you mean?”

“The other side of the van… don’t know if I want someone to really see us…”

“Oh, of course sweetheart.” He pulls back and you can’t help but whine at the loss of contact, he chuckles and takes your hand leading you around to the side of the van that faces into the darkened, empty parking lot of The Warzone.

Without warning you’re pushed back into the side of the van, his lips against your own once again. His hand slips under your loose top and traverses the length of your body ‘til he reaches your bare breast and groans into your mouth. You moan as he begins to knead the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The two of you break apart momentarily gasping for breath, his hand drifts from your breast slowly trailing back down your abdomen to rest at the waistband of your jeans. 

He looks to you for confirmation before proceeding and you give a slight nod, he pops open the button on your jeans and draws the zipper down. His eyes never stray from your own as his hand dips into your pants, immediately coming into contact with the thatch of hair scattered over your mound.

He groans deeply, fingers delving lower to swirl around in your slick folds, “You gave me the panties you were wearing… shit babe, that makes it even fucking hotter. I hope you know you’re not getting them back, they’re mine now… just like you.”

“Fuck, Eddie… please, please, please.”

He eases two of his fingers into your entrance, his thumb presses against your clit and he begins crooking his fingers against your slippery walls. You grip his shoulder tightly panting and gasping as he whispers in your ear, “Love the way you beg. Is that what you want? Want me to stretch you out before I fuck you? Gonna make you cum with just my fingers.”

“God, yes Eddie… fuck.” You mewl.

He continues his languid pace, his thumb slowly moving in slow, tight circles against your clit in a way that has you inhaling sharply.

He increases the pace, gradually building up, winding you up like a spring ‘til you’re ready to burst. “G-gonna… gonna cum…” You whimper as your walls begin tightening around his thick fingers.

He croons encouragingly, “Yeah, that’s it baby, cum for me.”

A strung-out moan escapes from your lips, your thighs quake as you pulse on his digits soaking them in your release, “Oh god, Eddie.”

His hand slips out of your pants and he brings his fingers to his lips, licking away the fluid left clinging to them. Your head droops forward as you catch your breath, he keeps you supported pressed against the side of his van. He tilts your head up to face him, “How was that sweetheart? Was it good?”

“Fucking perfect.” You sigh.

A small smile spreads across his face and you pull him in for a kiss, eyes fluttering closed, it’s short and sweet and he pulls back, “So, you still wanna…?”

“Christ Eddie, of course I do, you got a condom?”

He nods eagerly and pulls a cigarette carton out of his packet, he slips a finger between the lining and the box pulling out a foil packet.

You giggle at him, “That’s where you keep your condoms?”

He shrugs, “Well, yeah um… I dunno… I just heard you’re not supposed to keep ‘em in your wallet, even though everyone does. This was the first place I thought of.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you carried them around in your little lunchbox too.” You tease good-naturedly.

“Uhh… I do actually. You know, keep all the ‘contraband’ together.” He jokes back.

You paw at his shirt, “Alright come on now, it’s your turn.”

He unbuckles his belt hastily, button and zip coming undone just as quick then tugging his jeans and boxers down in one movement until they rest just beneath his balls. 

His flushed cock bounces as it’s freed from its confines, dribbling pre-cum over its length. You admire his impressive size before looking up at him through your lashes and holding out a hand for the condom, “Here, let me put it on?”

“Shit, ok yeah.” He hands it to you and you waste no time in unwrapping it.

You reach down and give his cock a few slow strokes, spreading his pre-cum, his breath catches in his throat and he whines. You line up the condom with his weepy, tip and pinch the reservoir as you roll it down his shaft. Once it’s on you drop your hand lower and tug on his balls gently, rolling them in your palm.

His eyes flutter and he lets out a pitchy, “Jesus H Christ.”

You hook a hand behind his neck and pull him in for another kiss, more heated and demanding, swallowing up all the little sounds he makes as you stroke over his length again.

He grasps your arm, halting its movements, “Shit, please… please if you keep doing that I won’t be able to make it.”

You grin against his lips and move your hand away to roll down your own jeans before grabbing onto his hips and pulling him in closer.

“Can’t believe this is happening.” He murmurs softly.

He places his hands over yours caressing them gently before suddenly wrenching them off of his hips and forcing them above your head against the van behind you. 

He crosses your arms at the wrists and holds them in place with one of his hands, you gasp at the unexpected action. He leans in and nips at your bottom lip, kissing you greedily but briefly.

He uses his free hand to grip the base of his shaft, guiding the tip between your slick folds, dragging his sheathed head through your wetness. He taps against your clit a few times before guiding his cock back to your dripping hole, easing it in the same as he did with his fingers. 

You relish in the slow stretch of your walls until he is fully seated against you, pressing his weight into you, pushing you against the hard exterior of his van. He gives you a moment to adjust before slowly pulling back out and sinking back in. His forehead rest against your own and he groans, “Fuck, you feel so good.

He settles in to an easy roll of his hips, his tip dragging over your soft, spongy walls. You wriggle your arms in his grip, but he just tightens his hold, to be met with your pathetic little whines.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He taunts, “You like being fucked out in the open for anyone to see?”

You nod and with his free hand he rubs your clit lazily, you writhe beneath him. “You do, don’t you… tell me you do, wanna hear you say it.”

You pant and barely manage to stutter out, “Y-yes… Ed-Eddie, I like it… fuck I’m close, d-don’t stop.”

He chuckles, “Wasn’t… fuck… wasn’t planning on it.”

“F-faster… please.” You whine.

He increases his pace, both his thrusts and the swirl of his thumb against your clit, drawing you closer to the brink.

“You gonna cum again for me? Cum all over my fat cock?”

Your walls begin to flutter and you groan, “Fuck yes… say… say that again… tell me to cum on your cock.”

“You really are such a dirty girl, aren’t you? Do it then, cum on my cock.”

His words tip you over the edge, you call out his name clamping down on his throbbing length, gushing all around it. Starbursts of light dance in front of your eyes and tingles spread across your entire body. He continues fucking you through your orgasm, his head coming to rest on your shoulder, kissing and biting on your neck. 

He reaches his own end shortly after you, groaning into your skin as he unloads into the condom. Once his cock has stilled, no longer twitching and throbbing, he pulls out panting heavily. 

He takes off the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the bushes. You pull him back in for a lazy kiss, he breaks away to pull up his pants and boxers and you righten your own clothing.

“That was… wow.” He breathes out in awe.

You giggle, “Yeah, yeah it was.”

“You wanna head back to yours… or we could go to my place? The guys are getting a lift from Emerson, it’s all sorted already.”

You look up at him with a soft smile, “Yeah, um your… your place sounds good.”

“Ok, cool… yeah, my place.” He rubs a hand along the back of his neck before taking your hand in his own, guiding you to the passenger side door and opening it for you.

You take your seat and he pauses for a moment in the open door, gazing at you as you buckle in, “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He sighs.

You hum as you consider, “Hmmm… you know, I don’t think you did.”

“Well, you are. So beautiful.”

You giggle, “You are too… well, handsome I mean.”

The two of you pause for a beat before you snap back, urging him, “C’mon, get in and let’s go… handsome.”

He grins broadly at you, “Anything you wish, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #dom!eddie #dom!eddie x sub!reader #hippie!reader #eddie x hippie!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #request fill #niallerlover8022

[ghouljams]

I know we haven’t seen much of cowboy Gaz but A) love the sibling rivalry vibes between him and Goose and B) me thinks he gets along realllllllllllllly good with the Mrs.’s in town. Shamelessly. Like so shamelessly price growls at him when he bats his eyes at Duck.

Idk arm candy Gaz is rattling in my brain

Gaz, Goose, and Soap have major sibling vibes

Also thank God. I have been holding off on cowboy!Gaz because I truly believe that man loves a Mrs(/Milf dont @ me on this). He is such a sweetheart and a charmer and he is such fantastic arm candy. Every Mrs in town is in love with him as soon as he bats his lashes at them, including Duck!

Duck loves Ghost because he's her future son in law but she loves Gaz because he is pretty to look at and fixes things around the house. (Un?)fortunately he isn't going to actually go after a married woman, he's a good boy.

Gaz's darling is one of Goose's high school friends. She is a teacher at the local elementary school, and I really want to give her a baby. She is an absolute doll and Gaz falls hard for her. They're sweetheart for sweetheart, it is tooth rotting. I'll post their meet cute later, here's Gaz being the bane of Goose and Price's existence.

"Hey, Goose," you hum, not looking up from your book, "how old's your mum?" You shut the book and turn to look at Gaz where he's leaned over the back of the couch.

"How old's my mum," you repeat, hoping it sounds as crazy to him as it does to you.

"Not like that," you wait, staring him down, eyes narrowing the longer he tries to wait you out, "Price would actually kill me. It's not like that."

"Sure," you turn back to your book. "Better men than you have tried Garrick," you tell him, flipping to your page, "I'd suggest teaching a pig to fly, might be easier."

Gaz gives your head a good shove, "You've got a mouth on you, you know that?"

"One of Simon's favorite parts of me," You turn to smack him with your book. He holds his arm like you've actually injured him.

"Slag."

"You can't fuck my mom Garrick," you yell after him, as he laughs his way out of the living room.

-

"You sure this is all you need Mrs. Price?" Gaz asks, tightening a loose fitting under the sink.

"That's the last thing on my list," you say, enjoying the view from the kitchen table. Your husband really brings home the nicest young men to help around the ranch. Nice to look at too. "You sure you don't mind helpin' me with all this?"

"It's the least I can do." You hum, Price is going to be mad you're indulging poor Gaz, but that's for you to reap the rewards of later.

"You're a good boy Kyle." You tell him, hearing Price's boots walk down the hall.

"Fuck's sake," Price's voice booms through the kitchen and you smile into your tea, "Sergeant what the hell are you doing?"

Gaz drops his wrench and smacks his head on the drain. You bite your lip and try not to laugh. God you love watching your husband scare subordinates.

#cowboy!Gaz #cowboy!141 #from Goose and Duck's perspectives #Gaz is in trouble after this but he really is just trying to be nice #i like his darling a lot #truly the epitome of the two nicest people you know dating #i dont really wanna tag this with any ship tags so i wont #its just silly au stuff #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick mw2 #gaz modern warfare #cod fic

[steveshairychest]

Been seeing a lot of posts about punk Steve and I love it.

His whole life has been dedicated to pleasing his parents. He wears the clothes they put in his cupboard, he plays sports just like his dad did, he tries to keep on top of his grades but whenever he asks his parents for help they ignore him, tell him it's something he should alreadly know.

Nothing he did was ever enough.

When his grades drop and he loses interest in sports, his parents start spending more time away. He's not turning out like they hoped. He gets into fights, fails his classes and made the mistake of telling his mum he didn't want to go to college. That was it. He wasn't useful to them anymore.

He starts to hate his appearance. He looks exactly how they wanted. Prim and proper with his perfectly ironed clothes and stupid perfect hair. Nothing about his appearance was his own choosing. His dad made him get braces in middle school because he had a slightly crooked tooth, his mother made him go to the salon with her to get his eyebrows done and his lashes tinted. "You need to impress a beautiful young lady, Steven." She would say while pinching his cheek way too hard. His hair routine was also something she had drilled into his head since he was a kid because "Looks are everything, Steven." He never got a say in anything, not even what went in his own god damn closet was his own choosing.

He was only allowed to wear the latest fashion and nothing could be from last season because Mrs Harrington would be shunned by the other mother's if her son was caught wearing something out of date.

He decides to shave the sides of his head as a way to take control of his own life. Watching the hair fall to the floor is like a breath of fresh air, he inhales deeply and feels a sob catch in the back of his throat as he fixes up each side. For the first time in years, he actually likes who he sees in the mirror.

He starts to experiment with different clothing styles and finds comfort in the punk aesthetic. He flicks through countless magazines admiring the outfits and piercings and the smiles on all the model's faces. They look so free. So happy. He wants that for himself.

The next time his parents come home, Steve has dyed his hair pink with the help of his new friend Robin that he met at his new job at Scoops Ahoy. He's wearing a leather jacket with a ripped shirt underneath, Robin has just started getting him into the music side of things and the band on his shirt is his favourite. He's also wearing black jeans with giant rips that show off the small stick and poke tattoo just below his knee. Him and Robin got matching ones.

His parents stay at a motel that night and the next morning they cut him off completely but he doesn't care. He's finally found himself and he's got a new best friend that he can house hunt with.

#SORRY THIS IS A BIT LONG #but yeah #shrugs #this got out of hand #stranger things #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #punk steve harrington

[lonelycowgirls]

Cuz I Love You

Okay, so this came to me when I was waiting for the bus to Liverpool for Eurovision last week!

I tried to make this as realistic as possible, a lot of stories like this portray first time's as though they just know exactly what to do straight away. This one's giving clumsy.

It's a two-parter to leave you hanging, soz!

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

Nel xo

~

"I think we should try and have sex," Stella gasped as Harry gave her yet another love bite on her neck that was stretched out above him. They were snogging on her parent's sofa, both still in their uniforms.

"Huh?" Harry looked up, eyes hooded from the pubescent tension continuously rising in his teenage body. Whenever Stella got on top of him like this, he went to goo underneath her. She sat back on his thighs from where she'd risen to her knees, to look at his flushed face.

"I think we should try to have sex," she said again. He grinned cheekily but she also noticed his Adam's Apple bob where he gulped. "Hannah said it's weird that we haven't yet." She breathed, leaning in to push a squishy kiss to his swollen lips, he groaned as she raked her hands through his curls and gripped. The groan turned into a high-pitched whimper when she clumsily pushed her hips down into his crotch, where a tent had pitched.

"Um, I dunno, Stell." He said, clearly a bit flustered. "I haven't got any condoms." He mumbled quietly.

"It's okay, we can nick one of Milo's." Harry giggled into another one of her kisses at her eagerness but pushed her away wearily, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Sensing his anxiety, Stella whispered, "Come on, neither of us has done it before so there's no need to be embarrassed."

"'m not embarrassed." He mumbled again, a blush creeping up his neck.

"What are you nervous about, then? I've touched your willy before, there's nothing to be ashamed of." Stella said rubbing her nose against his and smirking cheekily.

"Stellll," he whined, screwing his eyes shut and moving his head away from hers as he cringed.

"What?" she laughed and traced his jawline with the tip of her finger. His hands rested at her waist where her tartan-patterned skirt had ridden up around her hips. He picked at the bobbles on her thick black tights. Suddenly she didn't find it so funny. She cocked her head to the side, "you really don't want to do it, do you?"

"I do... I want to." He said in a small voice, pulling her closer as he spoke. "I just don't want the reason we have sex for the first time to be because our mate said it's weird that we haven't yet." He grumbled, not meeting her eyes. She folded her lips into her mouth, feeling a little foolish.

"Well... what should the reason be, then?" He snapped his eyes up to meet hers and felt his belly turnover. Stella knew why they should want to have sex for the first time - she just wanted to hear him say it.

"Well, you know..." He said, flushing even more and shifting uncomfortably. Though when she went to move off his lap to give him space, he held her to him tighter. She smiled softly at him and rested her chin atop her hands that were folded on his chest.

"Go on," she said, fluttering her lashes up at him, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I guess... I want to have sex with you for the first time because..." She took in his long pause and cupped his cheek to lean in for a passionate kiss that took his breath away. As she pulled away, their lips still touching and eyes still closed, he whispered, dumbstruck by her, "Because I love you." he rushed out, almost in one syllable.

Her forehead pulled in and she felt her heart just about burst inside her. It was her turn to blush, she dropped her head to his chest chewed on her lip to hide her grin. She couldn't believe her luck. He was everything she'd ever wished for in a boyfriend. And now he'd admitted that he loved her. She couldn't wait to tell her mum. Bringing her forehead up against his, she waited for him to open his beautiful eyes and look up at her.

"I love you too, Harry." She whispered, grinning from ear to ear. They were so vulnerable to each other in that moment, and not a shred of clothing had been removed. She guessed that this was what her mum was talking about when she talked about feeling a fear when you're in love. But it didn't feel as scary as she'd expected. Although, she was really glad he'd said it first.

"This is crazy. I don't even know what I'm feeling right now." He chuckled and she laughed with him, stroking her fingers on the neck flesh peaking out above his shirt collar. "It's like my heart's got a boner." She rolled her eyes but smiled at his cheekiness.

A key being turned in the lock of the heavy front door of Stella's house caused Harry to shove her body away from his. She landed on the other side of the plush beige sofa with a slight bounce, pulling her skirt back down her thighs to where it normally rested at her knees.

"Stell?" She heard her mum yell out and heard shuffling that sounded like shopping bags as she moved through the narrow hallway towards the kitchen.

"In the living room!" Stella called back, she glanced at Harry and he met her eyes, his arms folded across his chest. They smiled at each other before something caught her eye.

"Oh my God, Harry." She whispered, wide-eyed with panic, and nodded at his lap. He looked down, eyes bulging out of his head. It couldn't have been more obvious that he was rocking at half-mast in his boxers. And her mum was about to walk in. Stella quickly pulled a cushion out from under her and tossed it over to him, which he eagerly accepted, pressing it down to his lap and readjusting himself to appear as casual as possible.

Pulling out her Blackberry, Stella started scrolling as Harry reached for the remote resting on the arm of the sofa to put the telly on, switching it to an episode of Deal or No Deal.

"You alright, kids?" Stella's mum, Isobel finally entered the room and surveyed the two of them sitting on the sofa. Pulling a satin scrunchie out of her hair, she tossed her black hair forward and ruffled it, coming back up to massage her scalp with the fingers of one hand whilst leaning against the back of the chair with the other. "Deal or No Deal? Didn't know you were into this, Harry?" Isobel questioned, noting the remote sitting atop the pillow covering Harry's lap.

"Uh, yeah, it's alright, isn't it? Reminds me of my nan." Stella snorted out a laugh she couldn't keep in. Harry smirked at her, fiddling with the remote on the pillow.

"Aw, that's sweet," Isobel said, absentmindedly, mostly unbothered. "You staying for tea?" She asked, already walking out of the room.

"Uh, yeah, could do actually."

"What are we having, mum?" Stella called out.

"Spag bol, you two can do the washing up," Isobel called from where she'd started unpacking the shopping.

"Alright," Stella mumbled, just loud enough to be heard over Noel Edmunds. "Has it gone down?" She whispered to Harry.

"Slightly," he said, not taking his eyes off the telly. "Talking about my nan helped." Stella chuckled, nudging his knee with hers.

"You said you loved me," Stella muttered, fiddling with her fingers and trying to hide her wide smile.

"Yeah, hang on, The Banker's calling."

"For God's sake, Harry."

~

A few things:

I realise that some Non-British people may not understand some of the references - sorry! But I'm hoping my fellow Brits will feel some nostalgia...

The legal age to have sex is 16 here in the UK, so Stella and H are all good here.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles fic rec

[idjitlili]

Billy hargrove x female reader.

Bulltrue.

Summary:  working at the video store along side Steve and Robin had its 'disadvantages'.

Word count: 3677

Warnings: Billy lives au and I cannot remember if the video store was next to the arcade, anyways. Language, undressing. Sex references.

A/n: Please, I am having intense feelings about Billy, and I have not wrote fanfiction in months, I apologise. I ended a bad relationship a couple of weeks ago, which distracted me from writing. ( Why ikr reading fanfiction is so much better.) BUT IM HERE and I love men with long hair. Pls michael and billy are the same.

NOT MY IMAGE

Deciding to work in the video store for the summer seemed like a good idea at the time, and maybe it was, except cleaning up the vomit and other human discharge.  Judging random peoples movie taste? Who wouldn't want to do that? 

You had moved to Hawkins that year from a long way away, you knew no one. Well, until you had met Robin and with meeting her you met Steve, then after meeting Steve the rest came along.  You had met Robin when your mum had sent you to mall to pick up some things with the promise that you could get food. And you had chosen to get Ice-cream,  and with that Robin had served you and questioned you as you did stick like a sore thumb.

Everyday you had to work, you'd walk, the same route, the same routine ( depending on your schedule but it was most the same).  Everyday you did the same loud blue camaro would drive past, each time almost making your ears explode. At first you did not trust the speed at which the driver was going at, but as time went on the car had slowed down. You never got a good look at the driver but he did get one each day he saw you.

Billy  would not admit to himself he had taken a liking to you ( even with never interacting with you), no, he was simply checking you out.  

"Hey, Y/n." Steve had greeted you with the most monotone voice, a gust of air reaching you from where he had walked past you as you restocked the horror section.  Putting down the VHs your legs had cracked from where you had been kneeling for so long.

"Oh, hi. You okay?"   His eyes turning back to you after he'd put his bag in the staffroom he had huffed resting his hands on his hips his eyebrows scrunched.

" Absolutely brilliant, sweets."

"Right, well, you've got bird poop in your hair." Eyes widening Steves hands immediately reached his hair with panic he had began to yell a large range of curses, until he  saw the smirk plastered upon your face.

" Wow, not funny."  With that he walked off still messing with his hair. Reaching ovver to pick up the last VHS,  Lost boys. The sound of a pair of feet had reaching your ears just as you saw the two legs behind you through legs.  Legs in tight blue jeans. You hadn't heard the bell ring.   Quickly standing to full height, spinning on the balls of feet to face the customer. 

Ghosting over your body with his bright eyes,long dark lashes, smirk building. He wanted you to see him checking you out.  His lips twisted, soft lips, like perfect lips, kissable like River phoenix's. Golden curls of hair sitting on his shoulders,  tank cling to him and jeans tighter than david bowies leggings.

" ooh,hi , s-sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"   Cheeks hot, as you stubbled over your words, being jumped out of your skin by a random hot individual was understandble reason to get flustered. Especially when he had just laughed. Reaching up to hold your rname tag inching closer as he lent over to read it.

"Don't apologise...Y/n. Ah. Yes, actually you can." Losing eye contact his eyes scanned the room,like to see what actually this store was, to make up an excuse to talk longer. Though you didn't think that. His eye locking back onto you.

"I'd like to rent a movie, do you have any suggestions for me, Gorgeous." Cheeks heating up again at the strangers playful tone, you looked down at the video in your hands.

" Well, without knowing amything about you just going off your fashion sense, I feel like Lost boys would be a good choice for you." His lips dropping from his charming smile into a o shape, as he became flustered by your comment. No one, no one, speaks to Billy Hargrove like that. But Billy for once was not angered, instead he saw the smirk plastered on the face he had been thinking about for weeks and laughed.

" Oh, do tell me what's that's supposed to mean."  His rough hands brushed against yours as he took the video tape from your hands to inspect the video.

" I mean, firstly you have a mullet so, and UI was deciding is he going for Rob Lowe in st Elms fire or Michael Emerson from Lost boys. And from your charming behaviour yes you act more like Rob but Lost boys is Such a better movie. And I mean no offence both are very handsome."  He raised an eyebrow at you looking away from the video.

"Are you calling me handsome, Y/n?"  Billy wasn't the type to tease with no intention of getting laid, since the accident at starcourt, he has changed. Not that he would admit that either.  Almost dying changes your perspective on things,  how you feel about people, how you feel about yourself,  what you haven't achieved, and things you're not proud of. For Billy he wanted someone to love, yes he knows he cares for Max now but that isn't the same as romantic love. Since he saw you he wanted you, he didn't know why, so here he was.

"Uhhhh...yeah. You do look like you're dressed up as Michael."  

"Bullshit." 

"Bulltrue."

The teasing between the pair of you had caught the attention of your coworker, Steve had not heard you act this way with anyone previously and recognised the voice of the guy you were speaking to. He dreaded the outcome of his walk toward you.

"Y/n, there you are- oh." Steve had walked towards you, quite loudly, locking eyes with Billy . Taking in his posture, Billy's arm rested on the shelf next to you, the gap between you very small for strangers, the suggestive eyebrow raise from Billy angered Steve for your sake. He didn't want you to get used by some man whore.

"Harrington."

"Billy."

The tension in the air between the two, was obvious to you, and probably literally anyone, they were death staring each other. Sure Billy had changed, and Steve did know Billie saved Eleven but still he did not trust him. Plus, how many times has he been beaten up by him. Too many.  There wqs silence between the three of you for a good minute before Steve patted his hand on your shoulder. It was clear Steve would be talking to you after Billy had left. 

"So, it seems you and Steve have a great relationship... " Billy had chuckled lightly.

" You could say that."

" Well, Billy what do you think about renting Lost boys?"

"I'll rent it, just so I can come back and speak to you."  You simply smiled at Billy, knowing that he was the type of guy to flirt with anything or anyone. ( Poor coconut. Yes, that one story about guy fucking cocunut, Billy probably did something like that.)

Ringing him up at the counter, he sent you one last wink, before turning to slowly walk towards the door giving youa great view of his ass in his tight jeans.

" Bye, sweetheart,  see you soon. "  watching him as he eent through the glass doors turn his face to the right for a second , as to get another look at you. Smirking himself that you were still fixated on him.  Opening the drivers door of his camaro, he had sped off in seconds. Blue camaro, the car,  that you saw everyday. Deducing thst it was the same one as how many people drive a car like that in Hawkins? Not many.

Steve stood at the counter resting his back on it with his arms crossed, his lips turned downwards and slowly shaking his head.  Within the next hour ( broken up due to customers), he had explained everything there was to know about Billy Hargrove.

The things Stevehad told you about the 'Keg king' made you rethink your meeting of Billy. Had he just been sweet and flirty because you were 'fresh meat' another bitch to conquer. The way he apparently treated people like Steve presented insecurity in himself, like Billy was trying to tame a bull, the bull being the world. Maybe there was someone deeper going on in his head. Maybe, he had built this walls to protect himself from further hurt.

Though, what would you know you just convinced him to rent a movie.

The next time you had seen Billy was lesss than a week later, well,  one working day for you.  Didn't want to be charged a late fee, clearly. Steve was not working at that time, Robin was tasked with reshelving and you were stuck behind the counter. Which you didn't mind because you got to sit and read (or doodle)  other than the socal interaction you had to deal with it is great.

Placing your slushie back onto the counter , the water droplets falling to the surface, as you sneezed into your elbow for what felt like trillion sneezes. The patter of trainers walked towards you unknowingly, those feet which were normally booted. 

"Bless you."  With your eyes closed still you figured that was not Robins voice. Opening them you were faced with Billy leaning his forearm on counter , his lips twisted in a smile as he chewed quietly on the gum inbetween his lips. Sunglasses rested on the centre of his tank top, he was dressed in his lifeguard uniform, with his tight bright shorts highlighting his mighty sword.  Maybe, you should stop checking him out wuen he watching? Would that be impossible?

"Thank you." Sipping at your slushie again, the straw between your plump lips , Billy watching intently. 

" You're so welcome, babe." As you pulled away from the straw, Billy held his hand out for your drink. He looked like he needed it, his exposed body was glistening in the light that travelled through the windows, what moisturiser and oils did he use to look that good. Maybe, it was just sweat.   Before you could let go of the slushie his hand had latched onro the cup whilst you still held it and had taken a long sip from it.  Before slowly releasing his grip from you to fiddle with the Lost boys vhs tape on the counter.

Okay, admittedly you wouldn't allow some random person to drink your drink but his smile and his 'kurt cobain' ( great description you know) eyes with his long lashes fluttering at you made your heart beat unbearably fast.

"W-what did you think of the movie?"  Spluttering over you words to cover up your nerves due to the man in front of you piercing you with his eyes.

"Well, I can definitely understand how I look like Michael just ten times more attractive. Other than that, I loved it. You are very good at your job." He paused for a moment to caught his breathe before reaching up to push a strand of hair from your face.

" Though, Y/n, that does make me wonder about what else you can do." If your face was not on fire already it was now, the words dripped out of his soft lips like syrup.

"Uh.. , well, I can consume the rest of this slushie."   And before you could grab the slushie , Billy had it holding it away from you, urging you to reach and grab it.

" Can you?"  Huffing you sunk back into your chair , Billy just smirked from above you.

" I'm only teasing." Handing you back the slushie , and pushing the Vhs towards you.

"I need you to recommend me another movie, if you would."

You didn't see the Billy that Steve had described, other than the flirting but that was just in Billy's nature. He seemed sweet, and he seemed to take a liking to you. Sometimes multiple times a week Billy would come in ask yoj to recommend him a movie qnd then talk to you qbout it when he returned. Never, did he speak to any of your coworkers only to asl for you. 

Robin and Steve and sometimes the little ones would discuss Billy and you. Sometimes being everytime they saw you two interact. For four weeks , four weeks Billy had to entered the video store with the sole purpose of talking to you with the cover of renting of videos.

On one particular day you had been walking home with rain chucking down, hail stones , lightning, the works. Your clothing stuck to your body like sap, hair stuck to your face , not one inch of you was dry.  You wished you had left your walkman at home, no doubt it was ruined.

Normally you loved the rain, the smell, the droplets hitting your face , but today hadn't been the best day.  Both of your coworkers that were meant to work that evening after your shift had called in sick and no one could cover, so, you were stuck alone for over three hours.  Not exactly great since it is a lot to run a wh9le store by yourself. Especially when a lot of weirdos love to come in before closing.  You hoped Billy may of came in today, but he didn't oddly.

It had started to rain just as you got there for your shift and hadn't stopped, and even better no one could pick you up.  To say the least you figured 'oh today the day either I get hit by lightning or get murdered' .

Walking along the path holding up your hood speed walking as quick as you possibly could. The thunder so loud you didn't hear the purr of the camaro that pulled up beside you.  Rolling down his window, slowly following you as you walked away from the car Billy called for you.

"Y/n/n, Y/n. Y/n! " He had to shout loud,  very loud like his father, loud like when he would threaten others, he hated that he to shout like that especially at you. You thought you had been imagining hearing your name, but when you did look around you saw Billy in his car smiling at you sympathetically.  Turning on your feet you had walked over to his door , your hands leaning on thedoor as you bent down to talk to him. Already dripping into his car.

"Hey, Bil-"

"Get in the car."  Interrupting you , Billy gestured for you to get in, his tone warm not like he some maniac telling to get the fuck in the car or he'd skin your toes for hotdogs. You didn't argue even though you didn't want to get his car to get soaked. Sitting on the leather shutting the door of the car , pealing of your hoodie from your skin whilst Billy watched you do so.

" You shouldn't be walking in this weather."  That is all he said before he began to drive.

" I didn't have any other  choice, Billy."  Staring at the windscreen, the window wipers clearing it for barely a microsecond, barely could you see the road a head , it was almost dark. Turning to look at you briefly, Billy tclenched his hand on the steering wheel slightly, he felt bad, it was dark and he knew you hve walked back in conditions like this previously. He wanted to offer to drive you home but he felt like that was coming on too strong and kind of creepy.

"I can't see shit, is it alright if I pull over and see if this dies down a bit?" 

Thus, leaving you trapped in a car with Billy Hargroves his camaro, the car you had heard so much about. In the dark in the rain, with his cassette playing lightly in the background of the rain smacking against the car. Drenched and freezing, even with the heat on. Billy had turned to his body to face you, eyeing over your trembling body. 

"We've got to warm you up." Eyes widening snapping your face to look up to Billy, you realised this was a bad idea.

"Sorry, I meant I've got a blanket and dry clothes. I'm not trying to make a move."   Guessing he didn't want to get his hair wet he climbing over the console and sat in the back of the car.

"Thank you." Ushering you to come sit in the back, he held out his hand to help you across. Not before you took your shoes off to not get dirt all over his car. Smiling at you gently as you gripped his hand. Though he raised an eyebrow about your prvious actions. You managed to carefully get over the console into the seat next to Billy.

Pulling the duffle bag from the floor,Billy pulled out a shirt and a clean pair of socks before grabbing the plaid blanket which wad thrown over the back of the seat.  Passing you the clean clothes, he turned away from you.

" I'll leave more spare clothes in here for next time." Next time. Next time. What did that mean. He's just being nice surely. Pulling off your trousers and socks,  replacing them with the tube socks the material trapoing the little warmth in.

" Really, Billy, thank you. You didn't have to offer me a ride home or do any of this. I really appreciate it, thank you."  Billy watched the droplets of rain travel down the steamed up window, smiling to himself, not just because he has time alone with you. 

"Sweetheart,  there's no need to thank me, just didn't want some other guy picking up my girl." Pealing off your shirt about to put Billy's shirt on.

"My girl? Wow, where is she?" You should've put the shirt on before talking, especially teasing because clearly he thought you was dressed and turned to look at you only to see you shirtless. Eyes widening,  his face flushed pink, Billy had turned away ( not quickly, he got a good look).

"Hm, in my trunk."   Snorting at his comment you pulled the shirt over your head and wrapped the blanket around you shuffling over closer to Billy. Your thigh pressed against his, side by side , his warmth radiating from his body. Your hair dripping still, onto the blanket and Billys shirt. Legs bare riddled with goosebumps.

The rain still hitting the car with no sign of stopping. The windows all fully steamed up with the rainning hutting , nothing could be seen.  For a few minutes silence remained between the two of you.

Fiddling with the hem of Billy's old PE shirt, your mind drifted to how you were half dressed in the back seat of a car with Billy Hargrove. If Steve could see you now, can't say youd think he'd be impressed. Compared to what Steve had suggested Billy had not been anything like what you would've thought if you just went on with Steves opinion.  Maybe it was a red flag if a lot of people thought that way.  He was sweet to you, stopped in the rain with you, gave you clothes, came to see you at work just to talk to you ( with the excuse that he was just renting movies) and well stole your slushie.  You had grown fond of Billy, you hadn't realised until today when you didn't see him.

The presence of a rough hand being placed gently on your bare cold thigh had caused you to look up from the shirt to the hand on your thigh up to the blue eyes looking at you. Both of you knew that you would no doubt be suck here for a while.

"You know, this isn't a ploy to get in you pants. I know you've no doubt heard a lot about me."   Shuffling closer to Billy you waited watching him bite his lip slightly contemplating whether to say more.

"What I'm getting at is we don't know much about each other but I'd like to get know you."  Removing his hand from your thigh, gently brushed  your hair out of your face Billys arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"I'd like that too."    Sitting in the company of Billy Hargrove until the rain settled, just talking about nothing and everything. Time passing quickly , four hours had past before Billy had been able to drive you home.

  Sitting in front of your house still in Billys clothes shoes back on, your wet clothes sat on your lap.  Tying your hoodie around your waist as to cover yourself for when you'd have to walk to your house.

The thunder and lightning had stopped but the rain was still pouring. The street lights projecting orange light into the pathment , the droplets of rain illuminated by the light. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel briefly in thought, Billy turned to looked at you once with a small smile before jumping out the car , rushing to the passenger door. Pulling his leather jacket from his shoulders , his curls begining to be weighed by the rain,  opening the car door for you. Leaning over placing a foot on the drenched road before getting out of the car, closing the door behind you.

Billy held his jackekt over your head, both of you rushing to get to your house, pulling your keys out of your bag at the same time. Pushing  the door open, pulling Billy into your house by  his waist.

"So, want to stay over? I have Lost boys on tape."

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