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morganitering · 5 months

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Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

#tw: noncon #dark fic #yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satoru x geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler

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xoxoladyaz · 1 year

Text

Deep down, Steve knows that it's only a matter of time until he gets caught.

It feels like he's gone through the five stages of grief, like, twenty times. He can't count how many hours he's spent rationalizing it: what Eddie doesn't know won't hurt him, this is normal, people do it all the time, and besides, Eddie would feel completely betrayed if he knew and their relationship is so new that it's just not worth the risk. The absolute last thing he wants is to upset Eddie and this will just make him upset so really, Steve is doing the honorable thing by just not telling him, by pretending that he's not hiding anything, that everything is fine.

But it's not Eddie that catches him; hell, it isn't even someone in the Party; it's Jeff, Eddie's friend/Hellfire Club member/Corroded Coffin bandmate who shows up too early for D&D at Steve's one day and sees something he shouldn't have.

"This isn't what it looks like."

Jeff walks into the kitchen and frowns, like he's confused by what he's seeing and why Steve is so anxious, why he's sweating like he's just run a marathon. "It looks like you're blending a bunch of veggies together in a blender."

Shit. "Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

Jeff still looks confused. "And this is a big deal because - "

"Because I haven't told Eddie that the 'special pasta sauce' that I've been using the last three months whenever we have spaghetti and meatballs is actually entirely made of, like, ten different kinds of vegetables," Steve rushes out, and Jeff's face smoothes in understanding.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. The dude has a weird vendetta against veggies."

Steve groans, slumping in relief. "Tell me about it. Do you know how hard it is to hide veggies in every single meal that I make for him? Because if I don't, then he's never going to eat them, and I'm worried about his health enough as it is."

Jeff nods. "It's the smoking, right?"

"The smoking, and the drinking, and I know he's sneaking out to smoke with Jon and Argyle, but he doesn't exercise and he only eats highly processed cereal with loads of sugar and I just don't want him to have a heart attack before the age of forty!"

"Hey, hey, Steve, man, your secret's safe with me." Jeff holds his hands up in supplication. "And for the record, I'm on your side. The dude is like a feral raccoon."

"I know," Steve sighs. "But he's my feral raccoon."

That makes Jeff start laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom and I have been doing the same thing for years now. If you want, we could exchange recipes sometime."

"Really?" Steve perks up and now, now he's excited. "That would be great!"

"Sick. Need some help with the meatballs?"

"Please!"

And that is how Eddie and Gareth and Phil and Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica and Will find them later, chatting and laughing while Steve tosses his homemade noodles into his now-simmering pasta sauce, Jeff sitting on the kitchen island and drinking a beer.

This time, it's Jeff who looks like he's seen a ghost. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh?" Eddie asks, and his voice is totally controlled, which means that Jeff is screwed. "So you're not hanging out with my boyfriend and making him do that cute little blushy giggle that is my cute blushy giggle?"

"Eddie!" Steve scolds, but it's too late, Jeff knows his fate is sealed.

"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

(Jeff's rogue is caught in the blast zone when Dustin's ranger kills a large acid toad. Still, he can't feel too mad when he sees Eddie smirk and then lick the veggie sauce out of his pasta bowl.)

#Eddie isn't jealous #okay Eddie might be jealous #okay Eddie might always be jealous of anyone who isn't him who has Steve's attention #Steve is too besotted to notice #and so begins the one-sided war between Eddie and Jeff #Gareth is definitely just here to make things worse #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #Eddie Munson vs veggies #Eddie might be a feral raccoon but he's Steve's feral raccoon

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ellecdc · 29 days

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Dude, I read the one where you talked about pregnant reader and you said it'll be a cute fic.... are you really gonna write it!!? Poly moonwater with pregnant reader!?? Will you? Will you? Will you!!?? Please, will you!!!!!???

well.....since you asked so nicely........👀

poly!moonwater x afab fem!reader who finds out she's expecting

CW: mentions of pregnancy, how people get pregnant (nothing discussed in detail, SFW and minors), reader is concerned the boys will leave her, reader wishes to keep the pregnancy, based off a discussion on this post.

Now that you knew, you weren’t sure how you could honestly feel surprised. In fact, now you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.

For all the claims that wizardingkind makes to be ahead of the curve in comparison to muggles, they don’t exactly have the best contraceptives.

Potions are fine if you remember to take them, the same can be said about charms, and condoms are a foreign concept to the likes of wizarding society.

You’d been feeling so incredibly exhausted lately, and it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t make it through the day without having at least one nap. It was when you’d actually fallen asleep at the dinner table that Regulus started to fret, though Remus found it terribly funny at the time.

Then came the aches and pains that never seemed to dull no matter what you did. You’d tried potions, over the counter muggle medications, hot baths, cold showers, lying flat, sitting up – nothing stopped the aches that seemed intent on plaguing you. Remus had even given you full body massages that, whilst absolutely heavenly, did absolutely fuck all.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something?” He’d queried, holding the back of his hand to your head. “Reg? Can you bring me the thermometer?”

You swore you heard whatever Regulus had been fussing with in the kitchen fall unceremoniously onto the counter in his haste to come over to you.

“Why? Is she poorly?” He asked severely, placing the back of his hand against your head like Remus had, only far more aggressively and to the point that it actually made a slapping sound as it made contact.

“Och, babe! If she wasn’t poorly yet she’ll surely have a concussion now!” Remus chided, pushing Regulus’ hand away and cradling your head protectively to his chest.

Needless to say, the thermometer didn’t pick up a fever either.

So, when you woke up the next morning and spent most of the day hunched over the toilet bowl, Reg insisted you see a Healer.

Once the Healer started to ask the more...pointed questions, the pieces all started to click together in your mind.

Are you sexually active? Yes.

When was your last menstrual cycle? They weren’t exactly regular so... you supposed it had been late.

Any nausea? Yes.

Fatigue. Uh-huh.

Body or muscle pain? Fuckin’ hells.

So now you were standing outside of yours, Remus', and Regulus’ shared flat with a copy of your test results in your hand wondering what in the buggering fuck you were going to do now.

Both Regulus and Remus were pretty set on not wanting children of their own. They loved children, and they were both really good with children (in their own, very different ways); but with Regulus’ past, his family's reputation, and “the sodding inbreeding, amour; I’d be surprised if it didn’t come out with everything upside down and backwards”, he was sure that it’d be better for everyone if he stayed childless.

And Remus.

Poor, sweet Remus.

Too ashamed of his own affliction to a) pass it onto his own biological child or b) force any child to live with the knowledge that they had a ‘monster’ for a father.

And that was that.

Children just wasn’t in the cards for you three.

Yet here you were...

Suddenly, you weren’t just worried; you were terrified.

They didn’t want this, they never wanted this. They had always been clear about that. They could have been more careful to prevent this, but here you were.

Here you were.

There you stood; outside of your shared flat, unable to bring yourself to open the door.

They were going to leave you; they’d leave you, surely. Yeah?

They didn’t want this.

They wouldn’t want you.

Fuck.

“For the love of Circe, I’m jus- Salazar’s saggy balls, Y/N!” Regulus said as he stumbled in the doorway, startled after having been in the middle of shouting something over his shoulder only to nearly collide with you. “How long have you been standing out here?”

You stared dumbly at him; you weren’t ready to go inside. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

Too bad.

“Not long?” You stated in the form of a question. He furrowed his brows and looked you up and down before offering you his hand up the two steps to your doorway.

“I was just opening the doors and windows; you’re lovely boyfriend tried to make us dinner.” He explained with a fond eyeroll, stepping into the flat and squinting through the smoke flooding the living space.

“Yeah, yeah. Last time I try something new in the kitchen.” Remus muttered as he threw away an entire baking dish.

“What was it supposed to be again, sweetheart?” Regulus asked with a mischievous smirk you knew he picked up from spending too much time with Remus, Sirius, and James.

“Just never you mind, you tosser. Hi dove.” He muttered to Regulus, though his tone changed dramatically once he turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your form.

“How was your appointment?”

Your appointment? Your appointment. The appointment you just had. The appointment where you found out. The appointment where you were told you were pregnant. That appointment. The appointment you were still holding the slip for. The slip with your results. The slip with your pregnancy test results. The slip with your positive pregnancy test results.

That appointment.

“I-”

And you took off to the bathroom, slammed the door behind you and heaved into the toilet.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you sat back against the tub with your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “Dove?”

Another knock.

“Okay, we’re coming in.” Came Regulus’ more authoritarian voice through the door before it slowly opened to allow both of them entrance.

Remus had to fold himself a number of times in order to sit on the bathroom floor beside you whilst Reg flushed the toilet (while you flushed in embarrassment) and closed the lid to sit on it, facing you and Remus.

“Did you get any answers from the healer?” Regulus asked quietly.

You smothered a humourless scoff and nodded your head in the affirmative.

The boys let you sit there with your head laid back onto the edge of the tub and your eyes closed before Regulus couldn’t seem to handle it anymore.

“And? Are you... okay?”

You took in a deep breath and pulled that paper - now crumpled within your fist - cast a gemino duplication spell on it and handed one to each boy.

You curled yourself inward and rested your forehead on your knees, reminding yourself to breathe even though you knew these two men now knew that you were expecting, that you were expecting their child.

It could have been moments, or it could have been hours; but it was Remus who broke the silence.

“Pregnant?” He whispered on an exhale.

You cautiously raised your head to look over at him by your side, noticing that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

You brought him to tears.

He never wanted this.

He wouldn’t want you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He asked again.

You nodded and swallowed around your gag reflex; unsure whether the nausea was nerves or...pregnancy related.

“You’re...” Reg started, still looking down at the paper in his hands. “You’re... gonna have a baby?” He whispered in awe.

You felt your brows furrow when you heard an emotional chuckle from beside you.

You turned back to see Remus wiping tears away from his eyes as he looked back down at his own paper in front of him.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” Remus corrected, nudging Regulus’ calf with his foot.

“Wait, you... you guys aren’t upset?” You asked urgently. Both boys snapped to attention to look at you in various degrees of worry or horror.

“Upset!?” Remus gawked as Regulus started shaking his head emphatically.

“Why? Why would you be worried of such a thing?”

You shook your own head and looked down at your hands as you began picking at your nailbeds. “Neither of you were ever interested in having kids of your own.”

“Oh, dovey.” Remus cooed and quickly pulled you into his side. “When was the last time we talked about this, huh? When we first graduated Hogwarts? I think we could manage a kid now, yeah?”

“Or four.” Regulus added, causing you and Remus to straighten up significantly.

“Four!?” You and Remus chorused.

“Since when did you want kids?” You questioned incredulously.

“The moment I saw you hold Harry for the first time.” He answered without hesitation.

“Ha ha.” Remus taunted. “Mine was watching her shop for Lily’s baby shower.”

“What!?” You nearly screeched.

Regulus sighed before ultimately moving to sit on the floor on your other side; you knew this was very serious considering he was a notorious germ freak.

“I was always a little afraid of having kids of my own, you’re right. I mean, you’ve seen the way that Sirius and I turned out, yeah?”

You and Remus scoffed at that.

“I just hated the idea of ever being anything like my parents, because that’s all I know. Or I guess, that was all I knew. But... I think you guys have taught me an awful lot.”

You watched Regulus’ stormy grey eyes as they moved between you and Remus. “You’ve both taught me to slow down, to be more patient, to see the fun in the mess and the burnt food and the change of plans. You’ve taught me that I won’t perish if I sit on the bathroom floor for a minute. And, I think most importantly, you’ve taught me how to love. And when I see how happy Harry is, I realize that’s all a kid really needs, yeah? Love?”

“You... you really want a child? This child?” You asked in a whisper.

Regulus’s face turned heartbroken for a moment. “You’re child? Absolutely, amour. There was never any doubt.”

“I always thought I’d pass on only the worst parts of me to any child.” Remus added, turning your attention to him. “But I find I’m only ever my best self when I’m around the two of you. And any child that’s even a fraction of either of you, well, I’d be one... one lucky man to call them mine.” He whimpered the end of his sentence before breaking out into a sob.

“Oh, Rem.” You murmured empathetically, pulling his larger frame into your side. He chuckled through happy tears as he moved one of his hands tentatively to your abdomen.

“A baby...” Regulus breathed, looking back at the paper in his hands. “We’re really going to have a baby?”

You and Remus exchanged a shy glance, understanding seeming to pass between the two of you before you both turned back to Regulus.

“We’re going to have a baby.” You concurred.

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julieloves074 · 4 months

Text

I'm yours (Alex Walter x Reader)

Summary: When Jackie comes to town your best friend, and childhood crush, Alex Walter falls head over heels leaving you left behind but when you attend Will's wedding with someone something changes...

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, heartbreak

Words: 6.1k

(Not my GIF :))

The day Jackie arrived in town was an interesting one to say the least. The Walter house was a second home to me all my life, growing up at the ranch next door meant I grew up chasing around the fields with the Walter kids.

It was during dinner at theirs, Walter games night, that Katherine announced her dearest friend had passed away in a car accident and her daughter was going to move in with them. The reactions around the table were mixed, but mostly everyone was just shocked. Over the next months there were whispers and chatter, but I was not prepared for what it would be like when she arrived.

“Morning,” Katherine says when I walked through the front door, her and George were putting on their shoes and jackets.

“Off to get Jackie?” I asked already knowing the answer, I was curious about her, it would be nice to have another girl around.

“Yeah, are you staying around for dinner tonight? It’ll be nice for Jackie to have another girl around today I reckon,” Katherine asked, quite literally reading my mind.

“That would be nice thank you,” I answered, and George let out a laugh opening the door, Katherine gave him an inquisitive look, one brow raised.

“I thought we were past asking each other stuff like that Y/n practically lives here,” Katherine and I looked at each other and burst into a giggle, he wasn’t wrong.

“Alright well we better be off, Alex is in the living room with Issac playing some kind of video game,” Katherine announced grabbing her coat and leaning over to kiss the top of my head.

I muttered back a thanks and headed deeper in the Walter house and to no surprise I found my best friend exactly where Katherine said.

“Y/n hey!” Alex examined practically jumping out of his seat

“Dude! Dude the game- we’ve nearly-” Issac stood with the remote but quickly slumped back down into his seat as the television made a noise to signify the end of the game, “What the hell Alex, that was the closest we’ve ever gotten!” he continued to complain.

“Y/n’s here,” Alex simply pointed out, that Goofy smile on his face, all his teeth showing in his grin.

“Yeah, yeah Y/n’s here,” Issac mocked rolling his eyes at his cousin but giving me a smile and a fist bump as he walked past.

Soon enough Alex and I found ourselves laying around on the sofa with snacks and a random film on. I suggested we head outside, I wanted to work on my tan but he said him and Cole argued again and he was out there with some of the other Walter siblings. I tried not to roll my eyes, I know these boys love and care for each other so why make it so difficult.

“Your parents out of town again?” he sat up to look at me, I reluctantly tuned my head away from the tv and put down the popcorn bowl on the coffee table.

“Uh yeah, they’ve got another showcase a couple towns over, won’t be longer than three days,” I answered, mom and dad were well known by their refined tastes, before I was born they started being judges in all kinds of food showcases all around the country, it all slowed down after I was born but they were still offered lots of positions and sometimes they just couldn’t say no.

“You’re more than welcome to crash here,” Alex said, some of his smile seemed to crumble a little. It’s not that my parents weren’t good parents we just weren’t as close as the Walters and that was that. Plus, I have school, even if I wanted to travel with them when they did it wasn’t always possible.

“Hey, I need to look after Daisy,” I said with a smile, my golden retriever could not sleep unless she’s in one of our beds, “Plus everyone else is still there,” I said confidently kicking his leg to brighten his mood. Mom and dad offer a program where you can come live on the ranch and help with the work for a small wage and all accommodation provided, people who want to travel jump at the opportunity all the time, we have a waitlist, it’s nice being able to meet people from all around the world.

“You know I’m always here for you right?” He asked all serious, hand reaching out to touch mine, I gave him a smile and his hand a squeeze and pulled him into a hug. It felt different somehow these last couple of weeks. I’ve liked Alex, like liked Alex for as long as I could remember and recently it started feeling like maybe he liked me too.

“I know, I’m here for you too,” I whisper back.

“We’re back!” George’s voice announced to the house, Alex stayed sitting on the sofa, but I walked up to the doorway.

“Jackie this is Y/n, Y/n Jackie,” Katherine said with a bright smile. I gave the girl a smile, she looked exactly as I expected she would, beautifully luscious hair and clothes with a scarily perfect posture.

“Hi,” I said reaching out my hand,” I live next door but half the time I swear I spend more time here,” I laugh, and a smile appears on her face, and she shakes my hand.

“Oh, and this is Alex,” Katherine says as we walk past the living room, my eyes go to him like muscle memory, but his don’t even glance my way, he’s looking at her. I feel something then near my heart, a new kind of pain, but I put on a brave smile.

“Theres still two bags in the car would you mind getting them?” George asked Alex who shook himself slightly out of his trance. He stood quickly and headed towards the front door.

Unsure what to do with myself, this was a new feeling, I followed Katherine and Jackie to the kitchen, she poured us some lemonade when her phone started to ring, and she excused herself. From what I gathered she was being called for a job, Katherine was incredibly hard working and did not get half the recognition she deserved.

She apologised and said she was needed for an animal emergency. The job of showing Jackie around was passed onto me and Will who had just walked through the door and introduced himself.

We headed outside and finally I was blessed with the rays of sunshine dancing on my skin, the weather was truly magnificent. Will continued pointing everyone out to Jackie and I looked at each of the Walters outside in turn, I really was lucky to be surrounded by these people, and Jackie would soon know that she ended up with the most loving people in the world.

“Who’s that?” she whispered to me when a certain blonde, very dramatically, flipped back his hair and climbed out of the pool. I shook my head turning to see her practically gaping at him and let out a giggle.

“That’s Cole, the big flirt of the town,” I explained, her eyes never left him.

“Do you want to introduce yourself?” Will asked, he was too busy answering Parker’s question to hear Jackie and I.

Cole sat back on one of the lounge chairs brushing his hair back with one hand, the other already resting under his head. He opened his eyes ever so slightly to look in our direction, “She’ll figure it out,” he said in that teasing Cole voice.

“Told ya,” I continued, and Jackie laughed, I looped my arm through hers, ‘I’ll show you to your room then,”

“And Cole and I will start brining up your belongings right?” Will commanded more than questioned, Cole let out a groan but got up.

After a few minutes Alex had bought up Jackie’s other two bags and started helping Cole bring up her boxes of stuff which there seemed to be a lot of. I sat there with Jackie helping her unpack her suitcases and giving her some insight into town and the school. I had to watch both the Walter brothers try to make her laugh and shine their beautiful eyes at her each time they interchangeably came up.

“So, are you related to the Walters or?” She asked when Alex left after dropping off another box, I couldn’t help but let out an audible laugh.

“Oh no, no, I’ve grown up next door so basically know them since we were all in diapers, but no not related” I explained and she nodded, placing some stationary precisely on her desk, “So if you ever needany blackmail let me know,” I whispered and we laughed together. Katherine was right, I hope I was making this easier for her.

Katherine arrived back in time for dinner, George prepared a barbeque, Alex and I set up some tables outside and bought paper plates. It almost seemed like any other dinner apart from the fact that Alex spent almost all of it staring or talking to Jackie. He wasn’t the only one though. Cole. This was my new reality I realised and start bracing myself mentally.

Even with the family’s insistence I left right after dinner with the excuse that I had some last minute homework I needed to finish for tomorrow’s English class. It had been a long day, and I just needed some space to process and breathe.

I was almost to the gate when Alex ran up to me, “Hey you alright?” he asked walking alongside me, I nodded and told him that I still needed to finish reading that one short story, which was true, and before he could tell me to just read his copy hear I asked him a question.

“What do you think of Jackie?”

“She’s, uh, she seems really nice,” he almost seemed a little flushed, “I’m excited to get to know here, I think she’ll like it here,” he said, “What about you? You guys seemed to get cozy gossiping away”

“She seems lovely, this obviously isn’t easy for her, it’ll be nice to have a girl my age around the ranch,” I said honestly, things were going to be different now, so I just had to learn to roll with it and make the best of it, even though I see exactly how this is going to play out, I need to gossip with Danny about it, see if he agrees.

***

It’s been just over two weeks since Jackie has arrived at the ranch, and so far things have been pretty normal, if not better. We hung out every day, I showed her around school, we avoided Erin together and I introduced her to Tara and Skylar, but her and I got close quickly.

I had to finish my group project with my science class mates and it was the worst experience of my life, they were all absolutely useless, as much as we aren’t really fond of each other I’d hope they’d be able to put those feelings aside just to finish this project but no, they like to make things difficult. Now I wanted nothing more than to flop on Alex’s bed with some ice-cream and complain about it for half hour whilst he tried and is mostly successful in making me laugh.

My plan was not going to go quite as I wanted though, I walk through the farm’s beautiful, wooden gates only to hear Alex and Jackie talking. At first I reminded myself to not think anything of it, they too were starting to become good friends, which was good- so why did it hurt hearing her laugh that enchanting, contagious laugh from inside the barn that contained the loft. Kid’s heaven as we liked to call it. Alex and I called it our getaway when we needed to talk about something serious, it was also a non-judgement zone.

I approached the barn cautiously in hopes of not being spotted, this wasn’t spying it was- information gathering to make the best possible choices going forward. Who am I kidding this was stupid, I needed to walk away or make myself obvious. Running a hand through my hair I turned to walk towards the house, maybe Katherine was around.

“Spying are we y/n/n?” Cole asked, causing me to jump slightly, one of my hands landing on my chest.

“Jesus Cole I’d like to live to my thirties- at least,” I let out wacking him on the arm, he let out a laugh, one too similar yet so different from Alex’s, yet his knowing glance didn’t change, “No I was not spying I just didn’t want to interrupt,” I said defensively brushing past him.

“Whatever you say…” he started, managing to get perfectly in step with me, “Suppose I don’t need to tell you then,” he continued to tease. I kept my sight ahead of me, lips pursing together, running my tongue over my front teeth, I would not give him the satisfaction.

Cole found out about my little thing for Alex from Erin, her and I used to be best friends before she became ‘popular’ she used the information to get Cole’s attention in the first place, but this didn’t mean I needed to give Cole the power now.

We kept walking towards the house in silence, it was eating away at me and my lack of patience. I let out a huff as we got onto the porch, “What were you going to tell me?” I asked reluctantly.

“Oh how I could bully you right now,” he clasped his hands together mischievously and I turned away from him to go into the house, “Okay, okay,” he said grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me back towards him, we both leaned over the railing.

“He likes her doesn’t he?” I asked even though I already knew the answer, I could see Cole nodding his head in the corner of my eye. Damn how quickly Alex Walter fell.

I turned to face him; he kept looking out at the fields.

“You like her too,” I said in a whisper, it was a realisation I hadn’t meant to voice out loud. He sucked in a deep breath.

“I mean I don’t really know her, she just moved her but-”

“You feel like you’ve known each other forever? There’s just something fascinating about her that you can’t let that little flame of hope give out?” I asked, completely monotone, I related too much to what I was saying.

“Wow we’re saddos,” he laughed nudging me to the side.

“Yeah we really are,” I said, leaning against the railing again.

“But you don’t want to hurt him do you? We don’t need a repeat of the Paige situation,” he tensed up at my words, even though Alex is my best friend all of the Walter kids are my friends and they’re all family. I know Cole didn’t know about Paige and everything was blown out of proportion. But the fact that it was all a miscommunication but we were still suffering the consequences now and we did not need another destructive wave.

“Come on lets crash their little moment,” he said changing the subject, refusing to talk about it, the normal playfulness of his voice gone. I sighed and nodded, we headed towards the barn in perfect time to see Alex brushing Jackie’s hair out her face.

“Uh-um” Cole’s voice beamed into the mostly empty building, both of them turned to us and stepped apart.

“Oh y/n I have to show you this new board game Jackie and I bought in an antique shop the other day,” he came towards me, turning around to smile at Jackie once more, “Don’t forget the book, it’ll be nice to talk to someone who actually likes the Hobbit,” he said playfully turning to me, “Unlike some who don’t appreciate the art,” he continued.

That comment should not have hurt as much as it did, it was a light-hearted joke but it felt like it was leaving a gap in my heart causing my heart rate to increase.

“I’ll see you in a bit Jackie,” I said with as much of a smile as I could muster, she nodded back, clearly not wanting to be left alone with Cole after the whole bleach situation, and the good friend part of my didn’t want to leave her stranded, but Cole is a good guy- for the most part- and he deserves a chance to apologise for his sometimes stupid behaviour.

Alex started to describe the game excitedly as we headed towards the house, we were walking up the stairs when a voice called from behind us.

“Hey, Alex, Y/n hold up! I’ll come play with you!” Jackie shouted jogging to come meet us, and that’s how I ended up playing a board game with the two of them subtly flirting for two hours before finally having a chance to excuse myself.

***

Mom and dad have never gone away over a holiday before, but this thanksgiving I was left all alone in our house. Or more accurately I was being left with the Walters. This was a different kind of travel though. My grandmother from my dad’s side was getting continuously worse but they didn’t want to interrupt my holidays and wanted to keep me in a routine, so they asked me to stay and took Daisy with them.

I had slept at the Walter house last night, Jackie and I fell asleep on the sofa watching Lemonade Mouth, I knew Jackie was dreading today and did not want to cook so I promised I’d cover for her and cook a plate in her honour instead while she went on her food delivery rounds. Little did she know her uncle Richard was coming to the dinner.

I wasn’t supposed to know either but I had accidently walked in when Katherine was on the phone to him and she did a little excited dance move when I assumed he agreed. I think this will be good for her, seeing a familiar face. Getting her to come back to the house for dinner without revealing the surprise was going to be harder.

I thanked Katherine for grabbing the supplies for some bacon-topped green bean casserole, mom’s favourite recipe and stepped into my chef era in the kitchen. My side dish can be eaten cold or heated up so I decided to cook before everyone else piled into the kitchen.

Singing along to one of my playlists I moved around the kitchen like it was my dance floor, I’m not a fantastic cook, but I’m not the worst so I just tried to make it fun whilst stimulating my short attention span.

I heard footsteps and a voice, not a great one, joining in. I smiled and looked up from the cutting board to see Alex dancing awkwardly around the kitchen island.

“Oh I love this song,” he enthused coming towards me, I tried to move away and resist, but he took the knife out of my hand cautiously and pulled me closer, both his hands in mine and we rushed around the kitchen singing our favourite song. I should have known the second this tune came on it would act as a whistle to the Walter boy.

He twirled me around five or six times causing me to get a little dizzy, we giggled like five year olds without a care in the world. Unfortunately, as the song came to end so did our moment. We stood there for a couple moments trying to catch our breaths. I couldn’t help but gleam.

One look at Alex’s red, out of breath face and I burst into laughter again.

“Stop it! Come on stop it I need to breath,” he managed to get out between attempted breaths and laughter.

“Well, I didn’t know you were such a confident dancer Walter,” I said winking at him. He smacked my arm walking around to put some bacon in his mouth, “Leave it alone or we’ll have none for later,” I chided playfully.

“More of a confident dancer than a confident cook,” he said and I couldn’t agree with him more, “Thankfully mom has let me get away with just making the mash this year,” and we all thanked her for it.

“Do you remember that time you were trying to cook some chicken and somehow managed to get it spilt half over the floor and the rest drowning under the undercooked cheese sauce and almost gave both of us food poisoning?” I asked chucking a green bean into my mouth. He covered his eyes with his hands and sighed at the memory.

“How many times can I apologise for that? Also come on I was like twelve, how much can a twelve year old boy know about cooking?!” He asked running a hand down his face.

“Well, I’d assume more than that, your mom and dad are incredible cooks,” I said, then got interrupted when the phone on the counter started playing a happy tune, it wasn’t mine.

Alex picked up his phone to look at the caller before turning back to me, “Give me a sec just gotta answer this,” he said before sitting down and speaking into the phone. I run my hand over my nose and returned back to my station and cutting up the bacon into smaller slices, every now and then looking up to Alex, watching the smile that takes over his whole face, trying to guess who was on the other side of the phone even though deep down I think I already knew.

“Yes Jackie I’ll make sure to remind you about that later, okay bye,” he said followed by a laughter. My suspicions were confirmed and all of a sudden there was nothing more interesting in the room other than my cutting board, I was nearly done then I could get out of here for a couple of hours. If Jackie could so could I, especially considering I didn’t actually live here.

“I’m going to talk to her today, I’m going to tell her how I feel,” Alex announced bravely.

My hands stopped in motion, and I looked up at him, not quite sure I heard him right, “ You’re going to do what? Do you really think that’s the right thing to do? I mean especially now at thanksgiving when she’s missing her family and-” I started but cut myself off before I could ruin Jackie’s surprise for anyone else.

“Things have been going really well y/n, I thought you’d be happier for me if I’m honest,” a bit of his smile faded and I looked back down at my cutting board, throwing the rest of the bacon into my casserole.

“I just meant you guys live together, let’s say things go south, what happens then?”

“Why do you always have to be so negative about this, every time I talk to you about Jackie you get like this,” he was hurt, I could tell by the slightly change in his tone.

“I’m being realistic, you’ve got to think about the rest of the family as well,” I defended myself turning around to wash up everything I used I wanted to add you’ve got to think about me, how after all this time, when we too acted like that can you didn’t see me too.

He huffed and then just as his steps came closer they got further way, and with each beat my heart sunk further and further.

I spent the dinner watching him watch her, watching Cole watch her, and the whole debacle with her uncle go down and Erin sat two seats down from me- what was happening? How quickly do things go so out of control. He wouldn’t even spare me a glance, all of a sudden I felt invisible at the Walter table, which now I suppose that could happen effortlessly with purely the number of us.

We all sat in the living room later that evening, after Jackie decided she was going to stay, playing card games and laughing along to some general knowledge game show where people were barely ever right because the questions were so bizarre. Jackie left after a little while claiming she just needed some time to process this whole day.

What hurt was the way Alex followed her up a few minutes later like a lost puppy. I knew where he was going, what he was going to do and say, it was making me feel physically sick. Like someone was squashing both my stomach and my heart at the same time. I went to get some water. I took a few deep breaths while standing at the sink, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe so I went out towards the barn. I sat on the fence and looked out onto the ranch, not allowing myself to look back at the house.

That wasn’t the worst of it though. I thought it couldn’t get worse, more painful, but never say never. Jackie called me up to her room later, I’m staying the night at the Walter’s for two more nights until my parents got back. Hearing her explain what happened in detail was much, much worse than sitting on the fence outside and imagining how it played out.

She sounded so excited talking about how they kissed and how he gave her this whole cute proclamation, she didn’t realise that every word, every description she gave me pushed a knife a little deeper into my heart. He took her to our spot where when the sun starts going down it shimmers perfectly between two tall trees. I nodded along and tried my best to feign excitement, but I couldn’t tell how good of a job I was doing, she was too caught up in her giddiness to notice if I was doing a shit job.

I knew it could be worse though I told myself, this whole explanation could be coming out of Alex’s mouth, and if it did I think I would actually, physically be sick. I couldn’t see him right now or talk to him. I needed to not be at the Walter house for a couple of days so I could avoid the incoming PDA.

I told Katherine one of the volunteers ended up coming back early after the holiday and that I offered to go spend the evening with them, so they weren’t alone, she wasn’t too thrilled about the idea but she let me go, I think she sensed my urgency but didn’t want to press. I think she probably knew more about what was at play here than we realised.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, the sight of Jackie and Alex became imprinted in my mind. I didn’t avoid either of them, but I didn’t go out my way to spend time with them either, mostly because they were always together and always touching, but it’s not like they showed much of an effort to reach out to me either. I knew of course that they were in the honeymoon stage, but I also knew the best way to stop breaking my heart was to limit contact.

When I realised that this thing was going to be a thing for a while I started reaching out to my other peers more, hanging out with new people in the time I used to spend with the Walter’s and Jackie. Turns out one guy from my science group was actually quite nice, and he wasn’t bad looking. No matter what he was not Alex but I could see myself being happy with Seb. We talked, called, and hung out more and more until we officially started dating, he agreed to attend the oldest Walter brother’s wedding with me which was kind of him since he didn’t really know any of them very well. I think that was why I was drawn to him; he was outside this bubble and I desperately wanted to get out too.

“Aren’t you excited? You love the Walters,” Seb asked as we walked through the big wooden gate. My arm was looped through his. I took a deep breath and smiled, it was genuine, I was excited that Will and Hayley were finally doing what was going to make them happy and that we all got to be here to celebrate with them, in the place that we all love. Mom and dad already joined the Walter’s earlier to help set up.

We were met with the twins by the entrance to the field, and for today the wedding venue, many guests were already sitting down, Nathan sat on the other side of the gate tuning his guitar, I’m so glad they let him do this, it’ll be a memory he’ll hold for the rest of his life.

“You look beautiful,” Danny said as we got into conversation, Seb was seemingly finding many common subjects for them to talk about but my mind was distracted as I tried to stop myself from looking around and looking for him. Blue was my colour he’s said it himself many times before, maybe he’ll give me a compliment too, like he used to.

“Looking good Jackie,” Danny said as she came our way, mom said she basically planned this whole event by herself.

“You look great Jackie,” I added with a smile, she also wore a beautiful baby blue dress with a shoulder cover, her style choices never missed and whoever came up with the colour scheme should be given a bonus.

“You too Y/n, feels like I barely see you now a days, but we’re seated together so we’ll have the chance to catch up,” she smiled and reached out to hold me hand, “come on lets sit down we’re going to start in a minute”. I called Seb and we went to sit down.

“Hi y/n you look lovely, Seb,” Alex came up to us to sit next to Jackie, we’ve talked here and there, and god did I miss him and his goofy smile. He put his arm around Jackie and we all talked a little, Seb’s hand landed on my knee and whilst usually it was quite nice right now it felt suffocating, like I was in a prison of my own making.

The actual wedding ceremony was beautiful, they both looked great and you could just tell by the glimmer in their eyes that they’re so in love. Everything was going smoothly until Cole’s speech, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was honest and spoke from the heart, whether I could believe entirely that it was just about Hayley and Will I wasn’t sure but who else but us kids would be able to tell.

It was during the speech that Alex started getting fidgety, I wanted to reach out and hold his hand, run my thumb over his skin soothing him but I couldn’t, Jackie wasn’t helping much either, staring at Cole as if he’s some kind of god, eyes almost watering as he spoke.

Seb put his arm around me and I learned into him, my head on his shoulder eyes closed. When I opened them back up after Cole finished Alex was looking directly at me. I gave him a smile, but he looked away quickly.

I regretted complimenting the flowers as soon as Nathan explained their meaning and Jackie’s and Cole’s eyes found each other like magnets again, but when I looked to Alex his eyes were once again on me, he put his arm around Jackie and whispered something in her ear, she nodded but her eyes were cautious, unsure.

The dancing began soon after, Seb quickly asked if I wanted to dance sensing the awkward atmosphere at the table, he wasn’t so good with dealing with awkward bless him. Jackie and Alex didn’t take long to join us, they danced closer together whispering in each other’s ears, his hand ran up and down her arm.

I couldn’t watch any longer, “I’m sorry, I need to just take a second,” I hurried out of Seb’s, who now looked very confused, arms and towards the house. I could hear him faintly asking if he wanted me to come but I couldn’t answer, I grabbed onto my chest trying to get myself to breathe normally. I hope my exit wasn’t as dramatic on the larger scale as it felt.

The downstairs bathroom was girl heaven in this house, the one place where all you could smell was some kind of flowers, every surface was constantly clean and it was a clear zone from the Walter boys.

“Y/n/n,” a voice asked followed by a series of knocks, I would know that secret pattern anyway, I wiped my nose again, I wanted to tell him to go away, I didn’t need him seeing me like this, pitying me. “Come on Y/n can we talk?”, after a few seconds he still stood there, waiting, “I know I’m idiot, please,” this time I could clearly hear the desperation in his voice.

I opened the door and leaned to sit back down on the side of the bath. I didn’t want to meet his eyes. He reached out for my arms and lifted me up, my gaze still on the floor. I wasn’t expecting him to pull me into the biggest embrace of my life. I frozen for a second unable to move, but I melted into the hug, my hands sound their way around his neck and he pulled me closer.

“I’m so sorry Y/n I’ve been an idiot, who didn’t know what good he had until he lost it,” he pulled away just enough to see my face, “and now I’ve made you cry, wow I really am the worst,” I chuckled at this.

“I ended things with Jackie, I think we were both pretending that we worked because we were both scared,” he said with contemplation.

“Scared of what?” I asked but it came out as a whisper.

He looked between both of my eyes, his hands unravelled from around me to secure a place on my face. We were so close I could feel his breath on me.

“To do this,” he whispered back and closed the gap between us, his lips met mine, my hands went to his waist and he pulled me closer and closer. When he pulled away it seemed like I was in some starstruck haze, we’d kissed before at some party playing spin the bottle but that was nothing compared to this.

“Will you forgive me? Can we start this over?” He asked hopefully. I wanted to immediately jump into his arms and kiss him again but then there was Jackie and Seb.

“What about Jackie?” I asked weakly.

“I think we both know her and Cole have had this connection from the beginning it, but I was her safe option, just like she was mine and Seb is yours, my god I couldn’t watch any time his hands came anywhere near you, knowing that should have been me, it could have been me all along,” he said and this time I went on my tip toes, arms around his neck and kissed him like I’ve never been kissed before. Now I would just have to figure out a way to tell Seb.

“Don’t think you’re completely off the hook for ditching me for a girl,” I said walking out of the bathroom with a glance over my shoulder.

“Oh no I know I’ve got to work for it, but where are you going I want to kiss you, I need to kiss you come back!” he called trailing behind me.

“I need to talk to Seb,” I said solemnly, though I’ve got to admit a wedding is the worst place for all of this to work out. Seb was very understanding, I think he could tell what was coming from miles away but wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt. We hugged one last time and he went over to talk to Danny and some of the others.

Jackie started walking towards the barn, Cole must have ran away too, I chuckled to myself, she turned around for a second meeting my eye. She gave me a bright smile and put up both her thumbs up at me, I put a thumbs up back, and that was how I knew we were okay.

“So you want to dance?” Alex asked pulling my attention back to him. I agreed but only if it was proper dancing not whatever weird arm tugging thing he was doing with Jackie.

And so we danced the night away, all of us kids being the last ones left out in the night. We sat around and talked, played board games in one of the tents till morning, it was finally like everything was in place.

I leaned my head on Alex’s shoulders as everyone started heading to bed. Now everything was in place.

MASTERLIST

#alex walter #alex walter x reader #my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #romance #cole walter x reader #netflix

578 notes · View notes

geminiwritten · 1 year

Text

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #one shot #oneshot #homelander #hughie campbell #starlight #mm #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #the female #fanfic #fanfiction

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widowbitessting · 6 months

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Baby It's Hot Outside - A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Word Count: 1729

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: The One Where MJ cares for you.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

You can’t open the door to your own apartment. It’s your first sign that the headache you’ve had for the past hour might be transforming into a migraine. And it sucks. Pain resonates behind your eyeballs and you have to squint to see where the stupid moving lock is so you can get inside.

Has it always been so low down? Surely not.

The key finally does its job and you’re allowed inside your own apartment, near collapsing on the floor as you go.

Definitely too hot today. Seriously too hot.

It’s your own fault really; your classmate in all her wisdom kept offering you caffeine and you, in all of your wisdom, kept accepting.

So now you're coming down from the copious amount of caffeine, mix that with the grand total of 0 litres of water you’ve had as well as the sheer heat of the day, and it’s no wonder you feel like your head is going to explode.

Mistakes have definitely been made.

You somehow manage to get to your sofa, falling onto the not so soft cushions face first. The sudden dark does a lot to sooth your eyes and you don’t know how long you stay like that, only shifting slightly to breathe, until MJ nb udges your leg with her foot.

“Two people live here, y’know. Move over.”

You don’t even try to form a coherent reply, moving your heavy body like she asks, wrapping yourself up into a ball. The shiver that wrecks through your body trembles the entire sofa and MJ doesn’t seem to notice. She clicks on Netflix and settles with her hot chocolate, completely unaware of your dying state beside her.

She glances your way when your phone rings, looking at the picture of Wanda as it flashes up on your cell. You don’t even move, eyes squinting shut against the dim light of the living room. For you, they feel like spotlights.

You shift uncomfortably on the sofa.

Your phone pings a minute later; a text from Wanda, asking you to call her ASAP, she’s having an icecream emergency - aka: she wants ice cream but Natasha and Carol won’t allow her.

You know she’s messaged in your group chat because your phone begins to after every few seconds.

Why didn’t you mute your phone? Why?

It doesn’t take long for MJ to let out a frustrated sigh and kick her feet so they’re under her. Her toes tickle your right foot, making you jerk and when you still don’t make a move to check your phone, MJ does it again.

“Dude, answer them or I’m throwing your cell out of the window.”

It takes all of your energy to move, and even then, you misjudge the end of the sofa and almost faceplant the floor.

With trembling arms, you struggle to hold your upper body weight and here is where MJ finally takes pity on you.

“This is painful, move.”

She snatches your phone for you and goes to pass it when she finally registers your appearance.

“Woah…you’re not about to die on me are you? I’d have three pissed off women on my case if you do.”

You shudder. MJ throws your phone aside and lifts you up by your armpits, settling you back on your original position on the sofa.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You can only shake your head.

“I know this isn’t the time to notice this but that medicated deodorant you’re using really works, you’re bone dry!” MJ lets out a nervous chuckle. “Laugh, Y/N/N. You always laugh at my crappy jokes…even if they are pitiful…get it?”

You don’t even smile as a response and MJ jumps to her feet.

“Oh my god, you are dying!”

“...not…dying…sick…”

“You are sick, you feel sick or you’re going to be sick?”

“...all of the above.”

MJ falls over herself as she sprints into the kitchen. She returns with the anointed “puke bucket” which is a mixing bowl you had ended up using one time after too many shots. No sooner does she place it near your face, do you start to heave, body jerking gags where you think your stomach is going to come up out of your throat.

She touches your forehead.

“You’re burning up. Have you eaten something bad? Drank too much?”

“...not…” You spit out a wad of saliva. “...enough.”

“You haven’t eaten enough?” Something in MJ’s brain clicks. “Please tell me you’ve been drinking water today, Y/N. Please.”

You shake your head.

“I’d hit you if you weren’t so fragile. You’ve not drunk anything? Dude! It’s one of the hottest days of the year!”

“I had…coffee and stuff…”

You grimace and turn away from the bowl.

“You are actually going to die. They’re going to murder you, you know that? And then turn on me because I’m an unknowing accomplice. You’ve only had coffee all day? Y/N!”

“Don’t tell them.”

“How can I not? They’re bound to ask where you are! And what if they make a surprise trip to see you? You’re not exactly in a fit shape to fuck right now, are you, Y/N/.”

“MJ -”

“Fine. If they don’t ask I won’t tell them. Deal?”

“Okay, deal.”

“Right, you - don’t move. Don’t die. I’ll get you some water and a fan. Or something.”

MJ gets your water first, filling it with ice before rethinking and dumping it down the sink; before stopping again and getting slightly less ice for your glass.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Now with a full drink, and a straw because why not, MJ places it in front of you with the strict instruction to “Sip it, don’t inhale it.”

She takes your phone when your head is in the sick bowl and vanishes into her bedroom; unlocking it with your passcode and finding the group chat with your girlfriends.

“Who’s the least terrifying? Natasha, no chance. Carol, maybe…Wanda…you’ll have to do.”

She picks up on the third ring.

“Hi baby!”

“Hey to you too.”

“…MJ?”

“Hi, the one and only.”

“Where’s Y/N? Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you but I’d much prefer to talk to my girlfriend.”

“She’s not…well. I told her I wouldn’t tell you but I’m genuinely worried about her.”

“What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice cuts through your phone speaker and MJ wants nothing more than to throw your phone away and hide under the nearest bed.

“Michelle Jones, talk.”

“I hate it when you do that.” MJ grumbles. “Y/N’s sick.”

“Sick, how?”

“God, she’s gonna kill me…erm,” MJ pinches the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t drink any water and I’m 90% sure she spent most of her day outside and it’s been super hot and she’s not well and I’m worried about her…I don’t know what to do.”

Natasha is silent for a moment.

“Stay with her. We’ll be there as soon as possible, understood? Let her sip, not inhale, at cool water. Not ice cold, it'll shock her system. Is she hot to the touch?”

“She’s hot, yeah. And not in her usual way either.”

“Get a damp cloth, that’ll help cool her off.” Natasha orders. “And MJ? Thank you for telling us.”

“Any…anytime I guess. Not that I want Y/N to get heat stroke or whatever it is again, ‘cos it’s scary and stuff but if she ever misbehaves again, you bet your ass I’ll be right on this phone to rat her out. I’ll even spank her for you if you can't get her fast enough.”

“MJ, breathe girl. Get some oxygen into those lungs. We’ll discuss this at a later date when you aren’t so frazzled. We’ll be there soon, okay? 30 minutes, max.”

“Okay, yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Damp cloth and cool water, MJ.”

“On it.”

MJ’s hands tremble when she returns to you with the items; a regular glass of water in one hand and a semi filled bowl with a wet cloth in the other. She takes the iced water from you and replaces it; ordering you to sip it slowly while she pats your head with the washcloth.

You do little to fight her.

“I’m not well, MJ.”

“I know, Y/N/N, I know. But you’re gonna get better soon, yeah? Just try to relax as much as you can. Google says you should start to feel better in 30 minutes or so.”

She places the washcloth on the back of your neck.

It takes you 23 minutes to feel slightly more human.

It takes 24 minutes for the Trio! to get to your apartment.

You can only stare as they walk inside, eyes locking onto your slouched form on the sofa with a straw between your lips.

You know you’re in for it when you’re better and you nervously swallow, offering them a sheepish smile.

“...hi…”

Wanda stares at your fragile state, a mixture of emotions clouding her eyes, from guilt to a slight twinge of insecurity. She wants to wrap you up and promise to be a better dom; for herself but most importantly for you.

Carol makes a beeline straight for you and starts fussing over you. She caresses your cheek and feels your forehead, frowning slightly, before reaching over for the washcloth. As she dabs at your face, wiping away the tears that tumble from your eyes, Natasha, with Wanda beside her, moves closer and places a gentle kiss on your damp temple.

“Hey there, little kotenok, how are we feeling, hmm?”

They’re there. Your trio. There to finally care for you and you instantly feel safe. Comforted by their presence and you reach out, grabbing the nearest body to drag them down on top of you. Wanda’s scent fills your nose and you nestle into her neck.

“Am I in trouble?” you whisper and you can feel her grinning.

“Oh yes,” she replies, “but not right now. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, rest sweet girl. We’re here.”

You can only nod as Carol gently moves Wanda so she can scoop you up into her arms.

As you’re carried away to your bedroom, you can see Natasha speaking quietly to MJ; and make the mental note to ask her what was said. But for now, you allow yourself to be carried away. Not even five minutes later, nestled against Wanda, you doze off with a smile.

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #carol danvers #reader insert #sugar mommies #spiderbites #sugar mommies!asks #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #smu #sugar mommies drabbles #sugar mommies drabble

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Shovel Talk(s) Part 3

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve wants to be self-sabotaging. He wants to give Eddie a reason to break up with him. To end this before Steve ends up hurting him. Yet he's also helplessly in love, so instead of being ten minutes late for their date, he's fifteen minutes early.

He forgot he was going to just honk the horn until Eddie appeared and only remembers he was going to do it after he's already knocked on the front door. Eddie answers, looking as beautiful as ever even though he wore that shirt yesterday, but the jeans are clean, and his hair is brushed. Steve does manage to hold himself back from opening the passenger door for Eddie like he usually does, instead sliding himself into the driver's seat.

Eddie does shoot him a curious glance but Steve's careful about not looking at him as he starts the car and heads towards the bowling alley.

Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, and Robin are also at the bowling alley. It's not exactly a coincidence they run into them because Steve knew they would be here. (Sabotage was the goal. Turning their three-month-aversary into a group hangout might do the trick.) But Eddie likes bowling, and their friends, and also seems to be using the group atmosphere to hang off of Steve more than he would if they were bowling just the two of them.

And if Steve's being honest with himself, part of him knew that would happen, too. That Eddie wouldn't mind the group because their friends cover for them wordlessly. Eddie wraps his arms around Steve and suddenly Jonathan is standing between them and anyone who could see. Eddie leans in to give him a quick cheek kiss and Robin is at Steve's other side doing the same thing. Argyle and Nancy spread out across the seating, leaving barely enough room for Eddie and Steve to sit, so their close proximity looks forced rather than wanted.

And Steve's bad at not wanting Eddie. He finds himself reaching out and having to snatch his hands back. He plays hot and cold all night and it does have the desired effect. He can see Eddie's patience waning, can feel a shift in their dynamic and his stomach twists with shame.

He keeps conversation with Robin, and Jonathan, and Nancy, and Argyle. But not Eddie. He doesn't outright ignore Eddie, though. When Eddie talks to him, he answers but he doesn't initiate conversation. Uses as few words as possible to answer before rushing to take his turn.

He should apologize.

He can't say anything.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie has to leave him.

He's in love with Eddie, so Eddie leaving will ruin him forever.

Eddie should hate him, so this would be easier.

Eddie should love him, so this would be easier.

Steve's a goddamn mess all night, and no one calls him on it.

Why would they? They think he's going to hurt Eddie anyway.

"Did I... do something?" Eddie asks. Steve feels a little sick to his stomach as he puts the car in park in front of Eddie's house but doesn't turn the key. After tonight it's not likely he'll get invited in anyway.

"What?"

"You've been distant all day, dude," Eddie says and Steve can hear the frustration in his voice. He also notices that Eddie called him dude, which he hasn't done since their first date. "Distant for a while now, actually."

"Sorry. I didn't realize," Steve lies, staring straight ahead. The voice in his head keeps chanting 'just break up with me already' because Steve knows it needs to happen, but he can't do it. But also he's thinking 'tell me you love me so I know we're in this together' and also 'I want to love you but I'm scared'. His whole mind is a contradiction right now.

Eddie looks at him, face carefully neutral, "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Steve is quick to say, because it is true and he doesn't want Eddie to think this is his fault somehow. "You didn't do anything."

"So, is it something I haven't done?" Eddie asks.

"No." Yes. But also no. Tell me you want this as much as I do. Tell me you hate me.

Eddie looks down to his hands, which are fiddling with his rings. They sit in silence because Steve doesn't know what to say. After what feels like an eternity, Eddie must decide something because he nods to himself and says, "right." before he climbs out of the passenger seat and slams the door shut.

The slam sounds so loud, so clear, so final, that Steve feels something inside him crack, echoing the slam. He rips off his own seatbelt and climbs from his car quickly, the need to reach Eddie before he closes himself behind his front door suddenly very important, suddenly overriding any other thought he's had. Steve just knows that if Eddie gets his door closed, then Steve really will have proven everyone right.

And he doesn't want to.

He feels it in his bones that if Eddie makes it into his house, and gets his front door closed before Steve says anything, that it will be with the thought that Eddie somehow fucked up their relationship and Steve will not be able to live with himself if Eddie believes that.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve shouts as he rounds the front of his car, beelining for the door.

His shout works, because Eddie, hand clasped on the doorknob, twists to look over his shoulder instead of opening the door. Eddie doesn't hide the hurt on his face, or the pain in his voice, "What, Harrington?"

Steve doesn't know what he's going to say, hasn't planned for this. He had never wanted either of them to hurt in this relationship, not in a way they couldn't fix (he'd promised Wayne three months ago-), yet he let his mind take him down the road of self-destruction. Self-sabotage. He'd fucking planned to ruin their date. Eddie should leave him.

And yet.

Steve might feel he's not good enough, or nice enough, or changed as a person enough to deserve Eddie, but in the end, Steve thinks, realizes, it's not his decision if Eddie finds him deserving or not. That's on Eddie.

And now, seeing Eddie, who always looks beautiful but now looks hurt, Steve doesn't want to just give up because everyone he cares about thinks he's not good enough. He doesn't want to have ruined this. If he can just be open, and honest, then Eddie will at least hear him out. He's just got to say something true. He opens his mouth and- "I love you."

Eddie's hand drops from the doorknob as his whole body turns to face Steve. His eyes are wild and wide as he asks, "What?"

That wasn't what Steve had thought he would say, but now that it's out he doesn't want to pretend he didn't say it. But he's possibly also having some sort of manic episode because he just starts talking and can't stop. "I'm in love with you, Eddie, and it fucking scares me to death, because no one seems to think that I can, or that I deserve to, but I do and I want to. I've just been spiraling thinking about it and about how everyone thinks I'm just going to hurt you, because that's the last thing I want to do, ever. But then I just spent this entire night trying to make you hate me which just means that I am hurting you. And, also, if more than one person makes a point to like, bring it up to my face, that I'm just going to hurt you, there's got to be some truth to what they say, right? Multiple people aren't usually wrong and now I've proven them right anyway because I've been an asshole to you this whole day, whole week if I'm really honest, and I hate myself for that beca-"

Eddie shuts Steve up by grasping both his shoulders and shaking him like a ragdoll. Steve didn't even register that he'd left the porch and had walked up to him. "Stevie, Steve, shh. You gotta slow down, sweetheart. That's a lot to take in."

"Right. Right, sorry," Steve's voice sounds watery to his own ears, and also Eddie looks a little watery, which is odd and- oh. He's crying, he realizes, when one of Eddie's hands moves to swipe a tear from his cheek.

"Go inside, sweetheart," Eddie nudges him towards the door, "I'm going to turn off your car and I'll be right in."

Steve obeys because he's pretty good at following instructions. Unfortunately, it does mean he just stands anxiously in the entrance hall waiting for Eddie to come in behind him because the only instruction was 'go inside'. Steve's not even aware that he's worried Eddie might not follow until he comes back into view and a wave of relief washes over Steve.

Eddie leads him down the hall to his bedroom before making Steve take off his shoes and clamber into the bed. Eddie fusses and arranged them so that Eddie is sat up against the headboard and Steve is cuddled up between his legs, head tucked under Eddie's chin. Steve worms his hands behind Eddie's back to hug him, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve to return the embrace.

"Stevie, I got to be honest, I thought you were wanting to break up with me today," Eddie says.

Steve tightens his hold just a bit, "No. And yes. But also never?"

"That makes no sense."

"The thought of breaking up... I'm not going to lie, Eddie, I have thought it. But not because it's what I want. It's because there were moments when I thought it was what would be best, for you."

"How the fuck do you reckon it would be 'best for me' to break up with me?" Eddie is rubbing soothing circles on Steve's back, so he doesn't think he's in too much trouble.

"I let... I just got into my head about things. Your uncle gave me the shovel talk, which yeah, okay, fair. He's basically your dad, he's supposed to be on the lookout for people who would hurt you. But then, he wasn't the only one. And no one straight up said I would, for sure, end up hurting you, but then I learned that no one had given you a shovel talk and I just- Fuck. This all sounds so stupid! I don't want someone to threaten you. That's not what this is about but it's just- it feels like- why doesn't anyone care that I might get hurt, too? And then everything spiraled."

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head. Steve doesn't deserve this comfort.

"I just- I found myself thinking that like, if I just broke my own heart first, by breaking up, then they wouldn't be right. But also like, they wouldn't be wrong, because breaking up would hurt you, too, and then they'd pick sides and they'd pick yours because they were right about me but also, they're wrong because you have the power to fuck me up, too. 'Cause I love you."

"That's the third time you've told me," Eddie says.

"You don't have to say it back," Steve is quick to say, "I just- Now that I've said it, I can't seem to stop but you don-"

"I'm in love with you, too, you know," Eddie whispers, cutting Steve off as one of Eddie's hands comes up to play with Steve's hair. That thing that cracked inside him early, the feeling that made Steve call out to Eddie, settles back together somewhere deep within him.

Eddie plays with his hair for a bit before he says, "It's super fucking shitty of our friends to put that on you. And I'm sorry for not noticing that you were hurting. If it helps, Robin has given me a shovel talk. Kinda. I think she also gave one to Nancy at the same time? But for like, past you." That gets a chuckle out of Steve. "And Erica threatened to slash my tires if I hurt you, not even a full two weeks ago. And I don't think she even means like a breakup hurt. I think if she learns about today, she'll slash my tires even though we talked it out. Or, will have talked it out, by the time she finds out. Which I hope she doesn't. Because she'll slash my tires."

Steve is a little amused at the end of Eddie's speech because Eddie does sound, just a little bit, afraid of Erica. He tilts his head up and presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie's jaw and then freezes, because he's not sure he should have. Not after how he's treated Eddie this past week, and today especially. But Eddie doesn't react like he's upset. His fingers still glide through Steve's hair and his other hand rests on Steve's back in a half embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Eds," Steve says, shoving his face into Eddie's neck. "About today, this whole week, for- for everything. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, sweetheart," Eddie whispers back, "I let myself think things of you, you know. Shit I know isn't true, and wouldn't be, because I was scared, too. That I'd fallen for you. I didn't let myself believe you'd love me back, so I thought some really awful things."

"Well, I acted on my thoughts, so you don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do. And I accept your apology."

Steve huffs, breath warming his face along with Eddie's neck. "I don't think you did anything wrong, but I accept your apology, too."

They lay for a few moments more before Eddie's shoving softly at Steve, to get him to roll over, onto his side. He does, facing Eddie, and Eddie rolls onto his side to face him. Immediately Steve's hand seeks out Eddie's, he can't stand to not be touching him in some form right now. Steve slots their fingers together, and Eddie curls his fingers down to grip back. Steve brings their joined hands to his lips, placing a kiss on Eddie's knuckles before he says, "So, where do we do from here?"

"I don't know the where," Eddie gives him a soft smile, "but I do know that I want it to be together. So, I guess we just, go forward, together. With more talking. You have to let me know when you're hurting, babe. I can't help if I don't know."

"I know," Steve nods, "I know. And I'll try. I promise, I'll try my best but I don't- what if I can't?"

"I think you can," Eddie says. "You did, today, just now. And I guess, on nights we're really mad at each other, we go to bed mad but together. Same bed. Because I'll need the reassurance of you being here."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll do that," Steve says before pressing one more kiss to Eddie's knuckles, then letting their hands drop back to the bed. There's more talking to be done, Steve's sure. He wants to explain himself better, more thoroughly, but Eddie is content to let him lay here so Steve's going to take it for now. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Eddie says, soft smile on his face. "You work tomorrow?"

"No," Steve says, "why?"

"Redo date. Make it a whole day thing. Just us," Eddie explains with a shrug, "Not that the bowling wasn't fun. Just-"

"Yeah," Steve is quick to agree, both because he wants a redo, too, and because he doesn't want to hear the rest of Eddie's sentence. "How about we go to Indy for the day?"

"Sounds great. Now, let's get some PJs on and channel surf until we find something tolerable," Eddie leans in, giving Steve a quick kiss before rolling himself off the bed and beginning the search for pajamas. Steve's happy to watch him bend over the various piles of clothes around his room.

#steddie #my fic #yall keep asking who is protecting steve? who is on steves side?#and the answer is HIS BOYFRIEND *insert party popper emoji*#shorter than the other parts and im not happy with it but i want the boys to be okay so #enjoy

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che-bur-ashka · 1 year

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hey its my birthday why dont you go buy my games theyre all really cheap right now

you can get literally my entire itch catalogue for $24 or you can get any individual item for 24% off. itch says it would all cost a little over 80 bucks normally so this is a good deal but that's not the real thing and you know it isn't. the real thing is that its my birthday and you should get me a present.

some highlights in the 30-item bundle include:

THREE DUDES GO BOWLING my three player game about dudes going bowling

QUEEN OF THE MOON my pedagogical manifesto / hack of jay dragons sleepaway about meaning belonging and escape for queer children

ZEALOTS OF A LOVING GOD my hexcrawly ttrpg about surviving the downfall of your cult and wandering the earth as your body is slowly transmuted by the love of your god

MARCH OF THE HOLLY KING my solo journaling tarot game about the king of winter travelling around the world at the solstice, waiting for his rival to be born

and, and i cannot stress this enough, 26 other bits and bobs that range from complete games (RITUAL & EXPERIENCE, BENEATH OUR OWN FLAG, HERE SITS THE WOUNDED KING IN THOUGHT) to supplements for other ppls stuff (I REGRET TO INFORM YOU A KITH HAS BEEN SLAIN, THE TROOP) to scrimshaw and fragments of ideas written for weekly jams (THE DWARFS, BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN ALL AMERICAN FULL MOON WEREWOLF BRAWL).

go buy me a birthday present.

#ttrpgs #ttrpg #queen of the moon #march of the holly king #three dudes go bowling #zealots of a loving god #its my birthday #go get me a birthday present #i WILL turn into gollum about this i stg #ttrpg design #itch.io

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)

it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)

biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.

typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.

he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.

he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.

it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.

he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.

logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."

oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."

"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."

losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.

"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"

"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."

oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.

"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"

logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.

"frederik knows a guy."

oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”

logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”

“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."

logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"

oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."

he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.

as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.

"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."

"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."

"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."

"i doubt that, actually."

"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."

logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."

frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."

oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."

"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."

"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"

there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.

he's figured it all out.

the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.

"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"

"i could probably beat you."

he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.

"yo, isn't that-"

"liam, read the room."

logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."

he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.

and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.

"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"

mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."

"i know you will. but will he?"

"trust me?"

you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."

"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"

mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.

logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.

this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.

someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.

"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."

mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."

"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."

you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."

logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"

"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.

logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"

mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."

liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.

"i can teach you if you'd like."

"no, i think i can handle myself."

"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."

logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.

logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.

mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”

“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”

the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.

logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.

he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?

“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.

logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.

mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”

“mate-“

oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”

“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”

“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”

“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”

“yeah. best of three?”

“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”

“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”

“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”

liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.

the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.

in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.

“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”

mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”

“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”

“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”

“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.

he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.

mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”

you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”

you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.

mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.

and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.

he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.

“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”

“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”

“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”

mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”

“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”

“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”

“don’t act like you care.”

“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”

logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”

“mate, i do not want to hit you.”

“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”

mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”

“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”

“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”

“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”

“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”

“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”

mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”

“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”

mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.

“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”

“do you?”

“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”

“ah. so?”

“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”

“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”

logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.

“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”

mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”

“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”

“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”

logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“

“aw, fuck’s sake!”

logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.

lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”

oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.

“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”

logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.

oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”

“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”

mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”

you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).

when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.

and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.

you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.

“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”

@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #frat!au

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby)

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can't sneak out the next morning. PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Being single was becoming boring.

Boring in the way that seeing your friends in love and having fun in a way that you weren’t was starting to hurt. A full ache, settling in your chest until it bore a hole there and stayed, taking up space where the heartbreak used to live.

You weren’t heartbroken. Not anymore. You were less sad, less angry. You were bored. And almost always perpetually turned on. You didn’t want love, you certainly didn’t want another relationship but you were at the stage of feeling that yearning pull when you watched a romcom on your sofa, slumped against your roommate with a frown on your lips.

“I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be touched,” you said mournfully, your gaze fixed in the way Patrick Swayze’s hand trailed down Jennifer Grey’s side.

“Babe, this is rated a fifteen,” Robin snorted in reply but she ran a hand over your hair anyway. “It’s that bad huh?” She grinned when you whined at the screen, watching with wide eyes as Johnny Castle took off Baby’s shirt.

You sat up, taking the blanket with you and Robin huffed, dragging her half back. There was an empty bottle of red wine on the table, Chinese takeout cartons and a mess of charging cables, your laptop, Robin’s cell phone.

“I just want some fun,” you grumbled. “Nothing serious, just— just someone to fool around with.”

“You want a fuck buddy?” Robin grinned salacious, the movie forgotten as she turned to face you, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Should I go through my Instagram? Give you the name of every boy I know?”

“You know like, seven boys,” you scoffed but Robin reached for her phone anyway. “And no, god, no fuck buddies. Even that’s too much commitment.”

She laughed and pressed a foot to your thigh, the touch familiar and friendly. “Shit, are you actually considering a hook up?”

You squirmed, too warm.

“You are!” Robin squealed, “wow. I never thought I’d see the day. Little miss relationship just wants a one night stand, a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kinda—”

“Robin,” you groaned, hands rubbing at your face because the idea of it was so out of your wheelhouse that it was comical. But then Patrick Swayze started crawling across the floor on your TV screen. You paused, frowning. “Fuck, is that bad? Is it bad if I want that?”

Robin scoffed, leaning over to grab the bowl of popcorn you’d both forgotten about. “What? Dude, no. Of course not!” Her voice turned softer, kinder. “You can do whatever you want to do. You deserve to have some fun.”

“I don’t know how to,” you whispered and your chest felt tight again, like that well of boredom was filing again, spilling over with sadness and heartache. You hated it.

“What, have fun?”

You frowned. “No - well, maybe - no, how to hook up with someone.” You chewed at your lip, confused and panicking despite the fact you were still firmly seated in yours and Robin’s apartment. “Do I just walk into a bar? Pick a guy and ask him if he wants to come home with me?”

Robin spluttered out a laugh, gasping into her wine glass and she looked at you over the rim of it, eyes filled with humour. “Jesus, if you do, can you make sure I’m there to watch it happen?”

You set her with a withering stare, pulling the blanket up to your chest and gazing back at the TV, wistful. You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you most definitely couldn’t march into a bar and claim a prize for the night, no matter how many glasses of wine you’d nursed. Robin seemed to understand this, because she nudged you again, a socked foot poking at your knee.

“You could always try online dating,” she told you mildly.

You scrunched your nose, not taking your eyes off of the way Johnny Castle was thrusting his hips. “Ew,” you replied, voice flat. “Like tinder? Nancy told me I’d never be desperate enough for tinder.”

Robin snorted at the mention of her prim and proper girlfriend but she shook her head anyway. “Nah, go old school with it. Try a website or something, one that doesn’t rely on a carousel of shirtless photos and men holding up either a fish or a puppy in their profile.”

You laughed, draining the last of your wine as you eyed your friend, liking the way the buzz lingered over your tongue, your head. "I bet this would be easier if I were gay,” you replied mournfully.

Robin cooed, making a soft noise that definitely wasn’t a protest and she grinned. “You’d definitely be Nance and I’s third,” she poked at your cheek, smirked when you bit at it and rolled your eyes.

----------

Robin left the apartment the next night with her good boots on, a smudge of blush on her cheeks and sad eyes. She stood at the door with her coat on, fussing with her bag as she tried for the twentieth time to wheedle you into going out with her. Guilt laced the small apartment, something that made your chest ache, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come out with us? It’s Saturday,” Robin coaxed, “we can all get dinner, some drinks, go dancing…”

“Robs, I’m not crashing your date night with your girlfriend,” you told her again. “Go. I’m fine.”

The girl frowned, checking her hair one last time in the mirror, ‘cause she’d tried to curl it and you’d heard her cursing from the bathroom. “You know my girlfriend,” she replied, as if that was enough of a reason for you to join them. “Nance won’t mind.”

You smiled, a little sad, although you tried hard to make your eyes match your lips. You gestured to the TV, the soft blanket you’d pulled from your bedroom, the new bottle of wine on the coffee table. “Go,” you repeated again, this time more sternly. “I’m good. I’m great, in fact. I’ve got all the good ones.” You pointed to the lineup of films on your Netflix list, each cover showing off a different type of Hollywood boy of the month.

“Top Gun?” Robin snorted, “that’s not even the new one, babe.”

You sniffed, mildly offended. “Young Tom Cruise has a certain je ne sai quois, alright?”

Robin held her hands up, giving in. She smiled and backed towards the door. “Whatever does it for you. I’ve got my keys, ‘kay? Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” you called back, already hitting play on the movie. “Have fun!”

It took two glasses of rosé before you grabbed your phone, face feeling flushed, lips chewed to bits after you sat through scene after scene of handsome men, your mind wandering, your fingers drawing absentminded circles over your stomach, hand underneath your t-shirt. You groaned under your breath as you typed some buzz words into Google, hoping for a website that didn’t sound too terrifying, one that didn’t conjure up images of finding the love of your life, or a husband, one that left out religious words, ones that sounded too cult-like.

You hit the fifth result and quickly made a profile, one eye screwed shut in fear as you uploaded a photo, entering all the details they tried to glean from you, making it as vague as you possibly could. You hit submit, stared wide eyed at the loading screen and then within a blink, your own picture was staring back at you, one Robin had taken last year when you had very much been in a relationship. You were alone in it, in some corner of a party, the lights low, the shadows showing off the way your eyeshadow glittered, your lips a little glossy, your skirt short.

You looked pretty, not too sweet, not too boring.

Immediately, requests flooded in. Anonymous looking profiles with no photographs, empty descriptions and usernames like: ‘pu$$yworshipper69’ and ‘callmedaddy1982’.

You wrinkled your nose in disappointment, hitting delete on the messages that spammed your inbox, requests for feet pics, men wondering if you had more photos of your tits, bots that wanted to know if you were looking for love and, could you send your social security number?

Defeat was bitter on your tongue and you sighed, exiting out of your inbox only to be greeted with a new page that displayed singles in your area. One photo caught your interest, a boy with wild hair, kind brown eyes and a smile that seemed genuine. He wore a red shirt over a white tee, tanned in the setting sun, sitting on a beach and looking pretty.

You clicked, the movie forgotten but the glass of wine lingering at your lips as you scrolled through his page, eyes flicking over details of his likes and dislikes, his age, his job. His name.

Steve Harrington. Living in Hawkins, Indiana. You swallowed, wine glass left on the coffee table as you curled into the sofa and brought your phone closer to your nose. He had more photos in his gallery, all seemingly taken by someone else instead of the usual topless selfies that had bombard you at first.

The boy and some other people - friends, you assumed - swimming in a lake in the sun, smiles brighter than the sky. Steve outside, sunglasses covering his eyes and dressed in an old faded band tee. He looked like he’d smell nice, like he’d give good hugs. Another, the last one, where the boy was shirtless. But someone else had taken it as he stood at the edge of a lake again, smiling like he’d been caught off guard.

You hit the button at the top of his profile, the one that said: “send a message.”

A new page popped up, a little chat box that was intimidatingly empty and you stilled, staring at it. What did you say? How did you begin?

‘Hey, I’ve looked at precisely five photos of you and I know you work at some video store and I think you’re hot. Wanna have sex?’

You cringed, eyes squeezing shut as you quickly deleted the words, groaning at the empty space once more. You remembered what Robin had said, about how wanting to hook up with someone was okay. Loads of people did it. It was fine.

It was fine.

@INDIANAGIRL: Hey, how’s it going?

The response took a minute or two, but the wait was agonising, time stretching too slow. A speech bubble appeared on the screen, a sign that pretty boy was replying.

@HARRINGTON98: hi.. i can't lie, it's going a lot better now. you're really pretty. you sure you clicked on the right profile?

You snorted, trying to remain unaffected by the harmless flirting. But a smile pulled at your lips and you pushed yourself further into the cushions, knees bent and phone resting close. You took a breath and typed back.

@INDIANAGIRL: Ooh, self deprecating and daddy issues? You’re lucky you’re cute.

You stilled, letting out a groan that you smothered with a pillow after you hit send, ‘cause you were never this forward and it made your insides curl around each other, your heart beat too fast for you to keep up with it.

There was a pause before his reply and you breathed out a sigh of relief at the little bubble of text.

@HARRINGTON98: haha, what can I say, I’m a catch. honoured to know that you actually took the time to read my profile though.

@HARRINGTON98: so, apart from your friends and the bottle of wine persuading you, what’re you doing on this on a saturday night?

You smiled, knowing he’d taken the time to read through your page too, as short as your answers were. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, nails tapping on your phone screen as you tried to think of the best way to reply.

@INDIANAGIRL: Like you said, it’s a Saturday night. I’m definitely not here looking for love, if that answers your question. But I’m free, if you are?

You held your breath, waiting, eyes wide as the bubble appeared again, three dots dancing across your screen. It stopped, disappeared and started again.

@HARRINGTON98: cool. do you wanna get drinks or something?

@HARRINGTON98: it’s no pressure if you don’t. i’ve never done this before? can you tell? but we could hang out. if you wanted.

You smiled when the second message came through almost immediately after the first. The boy’s obvious nerves settled your own and there was a sense of familiarity in his words, his ramblings.

It made you feel bolder.

You typed quickly, as if tapping out the letters faster made it easier to send. You looked around your shared apartment, at Robin’s half open bedroom door. She’d be back in a few hours, maybe less, with Nancy in tow and they’d take up residence on the sofa, Netflix on and another bottle of wine opened.

@INDIANAGIRL: Neither have I but, we could skip the bar? Maybe hang at yours.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself. I’m going to get murdered. This is how people end up murdered. Karen and Georgia would be so disappointed. And then:

@HARRINGTON98: 82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26

@INDIANAGIRL: Wow, you’re eager.

@HARRINGTON98: like I said, you’re really fucking pretty

Your heart thundered.

@INDIANAGIRL: Wait!

@INDIANAGIRL: Can we FaceTime or something? Before?

@INDIANAGIRL: So I know you’re not a murderer. Or 80. Or both.

You panicked then, realising what was happening, eyes scanning over the address this Steve Harrington had sent. It wasn’t too far from you, a subway ride out of the city and maybe a ten minute walk at best. You chewed your lip, cheeks burning as you scanned back through his photos. Cute smile, kind eyes, hair you wanted to pull on.

Your phone buzzed and you swore. A cell number, a smiley face.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chanted to yourself as you typed the digits into the FaceTime app, stopping with a curse when the front camera showed your wide eyes and couch mussed hair.

You flung the phone onto the cushions, jumping up so you could straighten out your sweater, smoothing down the flyaway strands that stuck to your forehead. You caught sight of one of Robin’s lip balms on the table, swiped some over your lips and you dabbed a little on your cheeks for good measure.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the phone again and hit the call button. Maybe the boy was panicking too, maybe he’d backed out, maybe he was standing in front of a mirror as well, swiping hand through his hair and checking his shirt for stains ‘cause it rang and rang and rang.

Then, he picked up. Fuck.

@Harrington98 wasn’t eighty years old. In fact, he looked exactly like his photos. He was really pretty. Really, really pretty. Jesus Christ.

Tanned skin, brown eyes, wild hair, freckles scattered across his cheeks and jawline, creeping down to disappear under his shirt. He had the nicest lips you’d seen on a boy, pink, soft looking, smiling at you.

“Uh, hey!” The boy greeted brightly, “I'm here for the murder test? Have I passed?”

You grinned, laughing a little nervously as you tucked your hair behind your ear and cleared your throat. “I mean, I haven’t seen your place yet. Any red string boards on the walls? Black and white photos of the same person? Jars of body parts in the fridge?”

He laughed, a nice sound, soft and throaty and warm. “Nah, nah,” the boy shook his head, his smile playful, brows furrowed. “Not in the fridge. The freezer, however…”

You watched the screen as he trailed off, smiling still, looking soft and too handsome in a plain, white T-shirt. “So. I’m Steve. S’nice to meet you.” He lifted a hand, endearing and only a little awkward, waving at you through the phone.

You waved back, fingers wiggling. “Hi,” you felt shy, nervous. Flustered. You told Steve your name, smiling when he repeated it, trying it out on his tongue and it sounded a lot nicer on his lips than yours.

“So, this is my place,” Steve announced, spinning his phone around to show you the apartment. It looked loved in, boyish, some old movie posters on the walls in frames, a clock that was showing the wrong time, exposed brick and a big leather couch. “There’s no bodies to be seen, but that’s ‘cause they’re under the floorboards. Obviously.” He turned the camera back to himself, eyes glittering, smile full of trouble.

“Obviously,” you agreed, grinning, ‘cause it was hard not to. Not when he looked like that. “So shall I, um, bring anything with me or?”

You didn’t know hookup etiquette. Did you bring beers? Condoms? Your own pillow? Would you stay? Would he want you to leave? What if you couldn’t get a train back into the city if he kicked you out at three am?

God, would he kick you out at three am?

Steve glanced down at his watch and smiled sheepishly. “Uh, well. It’s almost eleven at night so I’m gonna guess you’ve had dinner. But I have some buds in the fridge, if you like beer.”

He said it like a secret, like you were both still skirting around the edge of the truth. But he looked down the camera at you with the right amount of flirt and confidence that let you know that he knew what you both wanted out of tonight.

It wasn’t dinner. It wasn’t a date. It was just sex. And that was okay with the both of you.

You nodded, fingers skimming across your lip out of nerves, out of curiosity, staring at the boy’s own mouth and wondering if he’d be nice to kiss. He looked like he would. You’d not kissed someone new in so long.

Years.

Fuck.

“Okay, yeah, great!” You said it too brightly and you winced. “I’ll uh, I’ll probably be there in like, half an hour?”

Steve smiled and nodded, told you to call him if you needed directions but you waved him off, noncommittal, too busy wondering if you needed to shave your legs and I’d you’d be able to find your last good pair of black underwear.

This was the part of the bad rom com movie where an early 2000’s pop punk song would play over a montage of you tearing the apartment apart as you tried to get ready. But Blink 182 didn’t start playing and instead, you could only hear the sound of your heart thudding in your chest.

So when you hung up the phone, you launched it onto the table, almost sliding past the bathroom door as you ran to it, shedding off your comfy clothes as you went. You took the worlds fastest shower, ran your razor over all the parts you declared not smooth enough and drowned yourself in peach scented body wash.

Deciding what to wear was difficult, ‘cause dresses were easier to take off but it was below zero outside and you weren’t fucking around with tights and extra socks. So you stole a pair of Robin’s jeans, ankles tripping over the hem of them as you struggled to pull them on at the same time you yanked a brush through your hair. Some concealer, a smudge of blush, mascara, more lip balm and you grabbed your bag on the way to the door, keys and phone in hand as you texted the group chat.

‘82 rowan street, BLDG A, unit 26. I’m about to get dicked down. I think. Don’t wait up. But call the cops if I’m not home in the morning. Do I bring a gift to a hook up?’

Your phone pinged once, twice, three times.

#1 gay friend: ‘bitch, what the fuck?’

gay friend’s girlfriend: ‘Babe, no. No gifts. Be safe though. Do you know this guy? Do we know this guy? Share your location rn.’

eduardo: ‘GEDDIT’

You sighed but did as Nancy asked, not bothering with a real reply but sending the link to find your iPhone. Your hands shook as you swiped your metro card and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or nerves. Did you spray perfume? You couldn’t remember. But you were wearing your best bra, the one that made your tits sit up pretty but god, the wire was pressing into your ribs.

And when you got out into the streets, out of the city where it was quieter and the sky held more stars, you revelled in the cold and the silence of it all. The world seemed lighter, a little rosy, in that way that only snow in the night could mean but the roads were still clear and the threat of it seemed weak.

Still, you hurried, arms crossed to your chest, chin tucked into your coat as you followed the directions your phone gave you, Steve’s address a bright red pin on the map, a neon beacon, a big, fat booty call.

His building came into view after a walk through a quiet Main Street, past the line of spruce trees and locked up businesses, a sweet town hall, a trailer park that vibrated with the hum of generators. The roads led you away from the middle of Hawkins, the map telling you which left and which right until an apartment block rose up between the parks and cafes, new looking and with shiny buzzers at the front door.

You wondered if you should text him. You wondered if you should go home. You blew out a breath, a shaky one, watched how it lingered and froze in the air in front of you and before you could stop yourself, your finger was pressing the button for number twenty six.

--------

Steve Harrington’s apartment door had an alarm. It was loud and shrill and incessant - and it completely ruined your escape plan.

There was a quiet countdown as you wrestled with the front door lock, keys jingling, chain clinking and then a beepbeepbeep begun, counting down like a ticking time bomb until it blared through the rest of the apartment. You’d managed to make it back into the bed in time, just as Steve jerked awake, shirtless and messy haired.

“Wha—?” He grabbed a bat from the side of his bed and stumbled out the bedroom door, still half asleep. And when he seemed confident no one was breaking in, he dropped the bat and fell back into the bed with a soft thwack as his face hit the pillow. “Mornin’.”

You startled, still on edge, ‘cause the night before was… fine, but you hadn’t meant to stay the night. That wasn’t the plan, that wasn’t the idea. You were lying with your coat on, wide eyed with the duvet up to your chin and you yawned, all over exaggerated drama as you stretched out.

“Oh, good morning,” your voice was too quiet. You felt nervous all over again. “Did your alarm go off? Weird. Well, I guess I should head home.”

You were already out of bed before you’d finished talking and Steve sat up, eyebrow quirked as he took in the way you were already fully dressed, searching for your shoes.

“Did you sleep with your jacket on?”

“I got cold,” you lied.

He snorted, easing himself back into the sheets and he watched you with careful eyes. Steve was just as pretty in the morning as he was in the dark. “Right. Do you always leave your hookups this quick?”

You turned, frowning at the obvious amusement in his voice. “I told you last night,” you reminded him. “I haven’t done this before.” The reminder of your lack of experience made your skin itch, heat flushing over your chest.

The sex had been okay. Nice. It was good. Nothing mind blowing, but who was expecting that from a stranger they just met? And yeah, maybe you had to fake it, ‘cause you’d been on the edge of coming so many times that eventually it refused to return. Steve had spilled into a condom, tied it off and chucked in the trash and fallen asleep before you’d come back from peeing.

Maybe you just weren’t cut out for one night stands. Maybe that was the problem.

Steve laughed again and it wasn’t unkind, but it still set your teeth on edge. You shoved your foot into your boot and straightened up, staring at him. “What?” He laughed again, “c’mon, you’re fully dressed and tryin’ to sneak out my apartment before it’s even time to have breakfast. You have your escape plan down pat, I respect that.”

Again, you bristled. “Um, no, I clearly don’t,” you huffed out a laugh but there wasn’t any humour in it. You gestured to the front door down the hall, still closed and locked. “I told you. This is my first time doing— this.” You saved vaguely at him and the bed.

Steve sighed and got out of bed, a small smile playing on his lips that were still a little swollen and red from where you’d bit and kissed them the night before. He pulled on a shirt, shrugged and padded barefoot to the hallway.

“Listen, s’nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he drawled, leading you to the front door where he punched in the code to switch off the alarm. “Girls get horny too, everyone has needs. I, for one, have absolutely no problem with a girl that knows what she wants and if that’s all you’re after then—”

“Oh my god,” you scoffed at him, lips parted, eyes wide. Suddenly escaping the apartment wasn’t as high on your list of concerns as before. “You’re totally slut shaming me!”

Steve looked at you, bewildered, face scrunched up. “What? No I’m not!”

“You are!”

“No, I’m not!” He shot back. His hand left the chain on the door, your departure forgotten about. “I’m jus’ sayin’, that it’s totally okay for you to, you know, wanna get your rocks off.”

You spluttered, incredulous. “Okay, one: rocks off? What is this, 1986? And two, I know it’s okay for me to wanna have sex with a complete stranger! I don’t need a man to confirm that for me.”

The boy stared, lips parted and a look of genuine confusion overtaking his pretty features. He grimaced and then waved a hand at you, an unfortunately dismissive gesture that had your back up even further. You set your shoulders.

“No, no, look,” he explained. “You’re taking this the totally wrong way.”

“Oh I am?” You grinned, sharklike, edging closer for a fight. He still smelled like last night's cologne, like your perfume and sex. “Want to tell me how I should be taking it? Wanna explain it to me?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, lips lifting, a sardonic kind of smile that made your heart race too fast. “That feels like a trap.”

“Wow, ten points for the smart guy,” you snarked. “If only you were as patient as you were clever.” You jostled around him, a hand on the door.

“What does that mean?” Steve snapped, the door clicking shut as he leaned his weight onto it, too close to you, staring down as you gazed up, chin lifted, still defiant. “Patient about what?”

You laughed, humourless and mean, ‘cause you just wanted to go home. You raised your brows, still giving the handle a jiggle despite the way Steve blocked your exit, frowning. “Yeah, okay jackhammer,” you grinned, “maybe give a girl some time to try and come before you seal the deal and pass out.”

Steve gaped at you, offended and full of shock, and you felt a little bit guilty. Sure, you hadn’t come, but only ‘cause of a timing issue, not a skill issue. But still—

“Yeah? You wanna play it like that?” Steve shot back, pushing off of the door so he could stomp into the kitchen. He rattled in his cupboards, pulling out a coffee mug that he slammed on the worktop. “What about you? Huh? Lights off, shedding all your clothes like a damn snake person and like, what’s with the whole—” he made a lewd motion with his fingers, mimicking rubbing at the air. “Way to make a guy feel benched, sweetheart. Got me fumblin’ around in the dark like a damn blind pig.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing to slits, the door forgotten - again.

“Yeah, well, points for enthusiasm pig boy, maybe next time you’ll find some truffles.”

“Oh, fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you too!” You said it cheerily, despite the anger that made your throat and cheeks feel too hot, the sneer that was on your lips. “It was so nice to meet you Harrington98!” And with that, you left, door slamming shut so hard your hand vibrated, and something on Steve’s kitchen wall fell to the floor.

You heard him swear and you smiled, the most satisfied you’d felt.

The stairwell was freezing as you stomped down it, more frigid than the night before. All you could think about was your own bed, that didn’t smell like a pretty boy with a bad attitude, where your sheets were softer and you could watch reruns of Schitt’s Creek until you forgot Steve Harrington’s name. You were never doing this again. In fact, you were deleting the damn app.

You scowled, rooting around your handbag for your phone, huffing when your screen stayed back, no matter how many times you tapped angrily at it. You could only imagine the texts and missed calls that would be waiting on it for you, the shrieks that would greet you when you finally got home. You hoped Nancy had made waffles. Or pancakes - Nancy made good pancakes.

And as you were trapped in a daydream about strawberries mixed in sugar, maple syrup and cream, you shoved your shoulder mindlessly against the front door of the apartment block, wincing when it didn’t give under your weight. You frowned, trying again, both hands shoving at the wood. It budged, just a little, leaving enough of a gap for you to see the whiteout that was on the other side of it.

You made a sound of indignation, shock making your mouth fall open and you peered out through the gap.

No. No, no, no, no.

Snow crept up the door like an icy landslide, covering almost half of it, the rest of the parking lot covered in what you deemed to be a couple of feet of snow. Cars were half hidden and the sky was white, blending into the ground, a blank landscape that was just barely broken up by the still falling snow. The flakes were thick and heavy, dropping down over the town with an urgency rhat told you this wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

Fuck.

“—dude, I’m telling you, it was like falling asleep next to a princess and waking up to a raging dragon. She was like stupid hot and all, but then she started yelling at me? And I don’t know what I’d apparently done but… Jonathan, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

Steve stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking handsome and awfully guilty as he pulled his phone from his ear and ended the call he was on. He cleared his throat and tried to avoid the narrow eyed stare you were sending him, clutching the basket of dirty clothes he was seemingly talking to the laundry room.

“You’re still here,” he noted and his voice was overly casual. “Interesting.”

“I can’t leave,” you replied, sounding as frosty as the weather outside. “Snowstorm. Can’t get the door open.”

“What?” Steve scoffed and shoved the basket into your hands. You tutted, moving out of his way when he jostled into your space. “You’re just not doing it right.”

You made a face, disgruntled and tried not to stare at the way the boy’s arms flexed with muscle when he strained at the door. You huffed out a laugh, smug, when it still didn’t move.

“What was that?” You smirked, more haughty that you would like to admit. “You’re not doing it right, Steve.”

The boy smiled sarcastically, narrowed eyes and annoyance on his features. He took his basket from you and tutted. “Well. Good luck.” And then he walked away.

“You’re kidding me?!” You were almost yelling, the sound making the boy stop and turn. “You’re not just gonna leave me here, it’s like the North Pole out there, I could be here for days.”

“That seems dramatic.” Steve walked back to you, too close, his laundry basket pressed between you. He made a show of thinking it over, lips twisted, humming. “So, what? You wanna come back to mine, is that it?”

You glared at him. “Unless you want me to sit in the freezing cold hall, I don’t have any other choice.”

“You called me pig boy,” he reminded you. He was smiling. He was enjoying this. “Among other names. You’re mean, sweetheart. Why should I help you?”

You resisted the urge to smack at his shoulder, bringing your hands to your lips in a prayer position as you took a deep breath and counted to three. Smiling - albeit tightly - you took your time to also remind him: “you were literally inside of me six hours ago.”

So you found yourself back in Steve’s apartment, grudgingly, and with nowhere else to go. You rolled your eyes when he brushed past you as you stood by the door, aimless and wishing you could be anywhere else. You showed him your phone with it’s blank screen.

“You got a charger?”

Steve pointed to a cable that was plugged in by the couch and he ignored you as you moved through the living room. He clicked on the TV, groaning when he landed on the news and saw live footage of the city, the streets covered in marshmallow soft looking snow, untouched, ‘cause nobody could get out of their damn home. The train lines were empty, the streets deserted, and the local weatherman Richard Raines was standing in a blizzard, yelling at the camera.

“Well, folks, I hope you’ve got enough food and someone to keep you warm at night, because this snowstorm isn’t done yet!”

Steve groaned at the same time you did.

“We’ve got more arctic winds pushing in from the east and we’re expecting more snow over the coming days. Stay home, stay safe and keep warm! We’ll do our best to update you as more news comes in from across the State. I’m Richard Raines, live from Indi—”

The TV screen blinked and blacked out as Steve chucked the remote on the couch, letting himself slump down after it. Still, you stood, coat and shoes still on, bag still over your shoulder like you had somewhere to be.

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Steve muttered, waving a hand at the armchair across from him. “Fuck knows when you’ll get to go your own.”

Hell. You were in hell.

“Okay. Right. I guess… shit.” You fell down onto the armchair, head in your hands and bag clattering to the floor by your feet. Your phone was still dead, charging slowly. “I need to tell my friend where I am. She’ll be worried.” You chewed at your lip and imagined Robin, pacing the apartment, calling your cell and yelling at the voicemail.

“About the possibility of you being murdered? Or will she be devastated to know her bestie had bad sex?”

You scowled at the boy’s surly tone, hating that he still looked good as he said it. Sprawled out on his sofa, legs spread, cotton sweats low, his T-shirt covering broad shoulders and strong arms. His hair was still a riot, deliciously so and now that he’d opened his blinds, you could see the faint purple mark you must’ve sucked onto his neck. You flushed.

“I didn’t say it was bad,” you grumbled. “Just— shut up. If we’re going to be trapped in here, can we at least agree to pretend we didn’t sleep together? For sanity’s sake?”

Steve sighed, his expression unreadable, and he stood. Chucking his phone into your lap, you watched his face soften, if only just. “Sure we can, sweetheart. Call your friend, tell her you're safe.” And then he walked into the kitchen.

The next few hours went by in relative silence, the buzz of the TV, the whirr of Steve’s coffee machine, the two of you sitting on either end of his sofa. You’d given in and taken off your shoes and jacket after calling Robin, the girl only quietening down after she yelled about how she’d planned your funeral, her words cutting off into a hush when she realised you were still at your hook-ups house.

“Is he hot? Was the sex mind blowing? Oh my god, this is like, insane! Are you gonna have sex all day?”

You cut off her rambling with a noise of desperation, wary of Steve nearby. You promised you’d text her when your phone came to life, that you’d fill her in on the details when you got yourself home.

By noon, Steve asked if you were hungry, his voice a little hoarse from pointedly not speaking to you and you nodded, feeling awkward when he went to the kitchen and started clattering around. So you sheepishly followed, taking up residence on a stool at the breakfast bar. He opened his fridge and you both cringed at the lack of contents inside.

“D’you like ramen?” He asked instead, closing the door and heading for the cupboards instead. Steve pulled out two packets of instant noodles and shook them enticingly.

“I do,” you answered, sounding way too polite and proper, but you were starting to feel increasingly guilty about your anxiety led argument that morning. “Thank you,” you added.

He smiled and it seemed less forced than before. “S’not like I’m gonna let you starve.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did,” you replied quietly, and you met his gaze a little reluctantly. “I was kind of a bitch.”

Steve snorted but it wasn’t as mean as his laughter earlier. He dumped the noodles in a pot and winced when the hot water bubbles angrily at him. “Kind of?”

“I was a bitch,” you confirmed, nodding with pursed lips. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Look, I wasn’t exactly nice either,” Steve waved off whatever words you were going to say next. “I’m grumpy as fuck in the morning. And stupid, like, most of the time. I didn’t mean to imply that you were—”

He gestured vaguely, the words dying on his lips, ‘cause he was more awake now to know not to say it again.

“Slutty?” You said for him and Steve groaned before he realised you were grinning.

“No! No, yeah, well, fuck,” he laughed, self depreciating and low. “You’re not a slut. But if you are, good for you! You know? And I guess that would make me a slut too… so, shit, cheers to that.” He slid your bowl of noodles, hot and spicy smelling and he grinned when you clicked the offered chopsticks against his own.

“Cheers to that,” you agreed and it felt a little like a truce.

————

Five hours later the snow was still falling and the sky had turned back into that dark pink-red that could only mean more to come. Steve had played through too many levels of Crash Bandicoot to count, laughing and throwing half hearted tips at you, because you were clearly a lost cause when it came to video games.

Switching from his Xbox back to the TV, you were both unsurprised to find Richard Raines back in front of Indianapolis City Hall, red nosed and standing in a flurry of white.

“Bunker down folks! This storm is here for the night! With another sixteen inches expected by eleven o’clock, we can all—”

The TV blanked out, Richard Raines cut off once again mid speech and Steve let his head fall back onto the couch cushions. There wasn’t much room between you both now, not nearly as much as there had been early in the afternoon and as you looked over at him, you were reminded of why you hooked up with him in the first place.

God, he was stupidly pretty.

He huffed out a tired sigh and pushed the gaming controller to the side, blinking before turning to look over at you, cheek pressed to the couch cushions. Steve was all floppy hair and honeyed eyes, five o’clock shadow and sharp cheekbones, a sharper jaw.

You regretted not kissing him more when you had the chance.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Wanna get high?”

....

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot

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celiastjamesoscar · 8 months

Text

Would That I

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed, alcohol consumption, small joke of role playing sex, jokes about getting salmonella and dying, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

AN: Came from this request here!

Word Count: 6.8K

You could smell the alcohol and weed in the air before approaching the house. It was Halloween night, and you were going to a frat party with your friends, even though you had zero intention of staying longer than ten minutes. You were just here to ‘shake babies and kiss hands,’ as your friend Miles would say.

He was the one hosting this frat party, so of course, you had to show your support for your friend, even though you hated parties and drinking. He was one of the biggest recruiters for his frat house and very well known across the campus for his promiscuous activities, but he wasn’t your typical frat guy. Yes, he loved to drink, party, and sleep around, but he was a nerd. He had been his high school’s team captain of Scholar Bowl his junior and senior year, and led them to a state championship win. And he was also extremely socially awkward; it pained you to watch him interact with people.

“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Anika questioned as you walked up the stairs to the house. She and Mindy were patiently waiting outside for you, and they both laughed at your outfit. “What? This is a vintage Gucci,” you stated as you did a twirl for the girls.

You were dressed up as Alan Garner from the hangout, and Anika hated to admit it, but you pulled off the cheap fake beard and wig. You also had a fake baby strapped to your chest with cheap sunglasses covering your eyes.

“You are really asking me that, Mr. Worldwide?” You jabbed as you eyed Anika up and down. The girl wore a god-awful bald cap, a black suit, and a white shirt with a shitty penciled-on goatee. “Haters gonna hate,” Anika replied as she pulled a pair of sunglasses out from her jacket pocket and put them on.

You scoffed at the girl before looking at Mindy, “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“I’m going to have a BF if you insult me,” Mindy scolded as she stared you down. She wore a jean skirt with white pantyhose topped off with a jean jacket and a pink shirt that said ‘Dude, where’s my couture’ in red letters.

“Was this your idea?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mindy scoffed at your words, “Of course not! I wanted to go as Vector but Chad wanted to match,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “So now, I’m from White Chicks instead of Despicable Me.”

“I think you would have made a very sexy Vector,” you admitted with a smile.

“Thank you. At least someone,” Mindy sent Anika a glare, “thinks it would have been sexy.”

Anika rolled her eyes at Mindy, “I told you I’m not having sex with you while you are dressed up like Vector!”

“Okayyyy, this just got weird,” you interrupted as you walked past the fighting couple but stopped just before the door, “you two coming?”

The two quickly stood up and followed you into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed was enough to turn your stomach as you opened the door. You saw partygoers dressed in all different kinds of costumes as you pushed through the crowd and made your way into the kitchen. “I shall have a bottle of Smirnoff, and what will my lady have?” Mindy asked as she dug around the cooler full of alcohol. “I shall have the same, my lord,” Anika replied, and you almost gagged at their conversation.

You politely pushed past Mindy and fished around for a bottle of water, and you quietly rejoiced when you pulled up the last bottle. “Seriously? Water?” Mindy questioned as she glared at you. “Yes, seriously. This is a frat party, and I only know three people here!” You exclaimed while holding your water.

Mindy muttered a quiet ‘whatever,’ and you were going to retort when you felt someone throw their arm around you and pull you into a hug. “How’s my favorite homo doing?” Miles questioned while ruffling your hair. “I’m fine, Miles. Thanks for asking,” Mindy butted in with a slight smile.

Miles let out a small laugh as he left your hair alone and gave Mindy a fist-bump, “I’ve missed you too, Mindy, and you as well, Anika.” Anika smiled at the man as she also fist-bumped him. “Well, me and Y/N here are going to go hunt for some Latinas to hit on, you two gay-bo’s have fun,” Miles said while pulling you off into another room.

“Really? We are going to ‘hunt for some Latinas?’” You questioned as you followed Miles into the living room. People were elbow to elbow, and you had to shout over the loud music to converse with the man. “Obviously! I know your three main things you look for in women, and I bet we can find someone here who is all three,” Miles replied as she slung his arm over your shoulder while scanning the room for a potential hookup for you.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words, “I do not have three things I look for in a woman. I only care about her personality and her thoughts on Dr. Pepper.”

A sound of fake gagging caused you to send a death glare at Miles. “I forgot you're a Dr. Pepper whore,” your friend joked as he started listing your three interests on his fingers. “Number one: you love Latinas, same here. Number two: you love emo chicks; same here again. And finally, number three, you love a woman older than you, and guess what? Same here too!”

“I hate that we are basically the same person in different fonts,” you mumbled under your breath as you shoved yourself off Miles, causing you to bump into a stranger accidentally.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you quickly apologized as you faced the woman. She was close to a foot shorter than you, but had a beautiful smile and seemed like she had a charming personality. “No, it’s okay,” the girl replied slurredly. You could tell this girl was hammered out of her mind, and you had seen the eyes of preying men on her.

Not knowing what to do, you asked her, “Hey, I know we just met, but would you want to go outside with me?” The question was an innocent one; you didn’t want to leave an intoxicated girl who was pushing five feet nothing to fend off men like Frankie. “Sure,” the girl replied with a smile as she grabbed your hand and pulled you outside. You sent Miles a scared smile as the man responded with a comical smile and a thumbs up.

You followed the girl out to a small wooden swing and sat down next to her. “So, what’s your name?” You quietly asked. You had no intentions on hitting on this girl even though she was your type; you were just in need of some new friends, and you thought she could be a good addition.

Not that Anika and Miles were bad friends, you just needed someone else to hang out occasionally.

The girl reached her hand over to you while saying, “I’m Tara; it’s nice to meet you.” You gently shook her hand and sent her a grin, “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The further the night went along, the more you talked with Tara. You two quickly discovered that you both shared a love for art and elevated horror, and you even exchanged numbers with the girl.

“Oh shit,” Tara quietly mumbled as she stood up from the bench. You gave her a puzzled look before standing up as well, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just my sister is freaking out about me right now,” Tara replied as she texted someone back, presumably the sister in question. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you? Because I can try and help to get you out,” you offered, causing Tara to chuckle at your words.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I think Sam would kill you if she ever met you,” Tara joked while looking up at you before returning to typing.

A minute passed before Tara sighed and closed her phone. “Well, I better get back home,” Tara said as she moved in to hug you, but your fake baby got in the way.

You gave Tara an awkward smile as you pulled the girl into a side hug and whispered in her ear, “Babies, am I right?”

“Why do you even have that thing?” Tara asked while flicking its head.

You quickly wrapped your arms around the baby’s head and shielded it from Tara. “Hey! Do not hurt my baby Carlos!” You exclaimed.

“Carlos? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious. Do not hate on his name.”

“Why did you pick such an outlandish name?” Tara asked with a smile as she crossed her arms.

You scoffed at the girl’s words, “‘Carlos’ is not an outlandish name, Tara. And besides, it’s from the movie The Hangover.”

Tara chuckled at your words, “Oh my god, my sister loves that movie; she watches it all the time.”

“Is your sister single?” You asked with a playful smirk.

“Ha! Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Sam is pretty reserved,” Tara stated as she slowly started to walk toward the road.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking,” you asked while following Tara and stopping on the sidewalk beside her.

The girl shrugged while pulling out her phone and texting someone. “Her last relationship ended badly. And ever since then, she’s just been closed off to everyone except me and always stalking me,” Tara admitted while putting her phone away, “but you’ll get a chance to meet her; she’s on her way to pick us up.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, only if you want to come over. I know we just met, but I feel like we could be friends,” Tara admitted with a smile as a black car pulled, parked, and the driver got out.

Tara continued talking to you, but as soon as you saw the driver, you couldn’t hear anything else. She was, to put it lightly, the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She had dark eyes that captivated you and a stern look as she approached you and Tara.

“Who’s this?” The alluring woman asked, and you could only think, ‘You’re future girlfriend’ with a giant smile.

The younger sister beamed at her sister’s question and placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you toward the woman. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s my friend,” Tara stated.

“Hi,” you breathlessly replied with an awkward smile as you stuck out your hand toward Sam. The woman looked you up and down before scoffing and slapping your hand away. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?” Sam questioned while crossing her arms.

“Because, Sam, we just met tonight.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly widened as she stared at her sister. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know this stranger, yet you came outside to be alone with her?” Sam exclaimed as she checked her sister over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Sam. And besides, Y/N isn’t that bad,” Tara laughed as she felt Sam’s hands check out of her body.

Sam stopped her movements and looked Tara in the eyes, “And how do you know that?”

Tara huffed at Sam’s question and turned to face you, “You aren’t going to murder me, Y/N, are you?”

“Yes, I am,” you joked with a playful smile, but Sam didn’t find it funny.

“Well, at least I get a heads up this time,” Tara chuckled, completely ignoring Sam’s bewildering expression.

Sam took in her sister’s words before shaking her head, shocked, “No, absolutely not. Come on, Tara, we are leaving,” Sam said as she walked to the driver’s side.

“Can Y/N come over at least?” Tara asked with puppy dog eyes and a small frown. Sam hated it when Tara did this, and her younger sister knew it always worked. Of course, Sam knew that Tara was only doing this to get her way, and Sam never denied her sister.

With a quiet ‘goddamnit,’ Sam allowed you to come with them.

“Thank you,” you said once you got into the back of the car and buckled up. You only got a small grunt in response, but you took it as a win.

The car ride was filled with low music and the occasional conversation between the sisters as you admired Sam. You were sitting behind the passenger seat, allowing you the perfect side view to look at Sam. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had caught you staring at her in the rearview mirror but made no verbal comment. ‘Fucking weirdo,’ she thought to herself as she quickly glanced at your love-sick eyes in the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the Carpenters' apartment, Tara gave you a quick tour of the place and introduced you to their roommate Quinn, who naturally took a liking to you.

While you were on the couch talking with Tara, Quinn walked into the kitchen and found Sam glaring at you.

“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” Quinn questioned while twirling her hair around her finger. You had taken off the fake beard, wig, and sunglasses and left your baby and baby carrier next to the door, and Sam had to admit, now that she saw your entire face, you were undeniably attractive.

Sam side-eyes Quinn before looking back at you and then back to the redhead. “I thought you were strictly men?”

Quinn chuckled at Sam’s response, “How can I thoroughly enjoy sex if I’ve never been with a woman? They know the female body better than anyone else.”

Not being able to form an argument against Quinn’s words, Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Wish me luck,” Quinn said as she gently slapped Sam’s back before entering the living room, sitting right next to you.

And for some unknown reason, Sam felt a tinge of jealousy shoot throughout her body, making her hate you all the more.

You and Tara stayed up watching movies while Quinn occasionally hit on you. And when it came time for people to start turning in, Quinn gave it one last shot.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Quinn said as she rubbed her hands on her thighs before standing up, “you can always come sleep with me, Y/N,” she finished with a wink before walking into her room.

Once she was gone, Tara apologized, “I’m sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Eh, I don’t mind the boost of confidence,” you replied with a smirk. Tara laughed at your words, and her eyes darted to Sam’s door as it opened.

Sam walked into the living room and glared at you before looking at Tara. “Alright, Tara, I think it’s time for Y/N to go home,” Sam stated as she crossed her arms.

Tara let out a small groan as she threw her head back before standing up. “Alright, Alan, let’s go,” Tara replied as she pulled you off the couch and walked toward the door with you.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned while watching you, and Tara put on your shoes. “I’m taking Y/N home?” Tara replied with a puzzled look.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Sam responded as she walked over to the door and stood before it, “you are not leaving here this late at night with her.”

With a scoff, Tara looked between you and her sister, “Well, what do you want her to do then? Walk home?”

“Yes,” Sam immediately replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So it’s not safe enough for me to walk with her, but she can go alone?”

Sam took a few seconds to think about it before responding, “That is correct.”

Tara sighed; she knew there was no point in arguing with Sam, but she got a bright idea. “Well, since you won’t let me take her home, you can,” Tara suggested as she removed her shoes.

“No!” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time but for different reasons. Sam didn’t want to take you home because she did not like you at all. While you, on the other hand, didn’t want to be left alone with the woman because you knew for a fact you would be a blushing mess and wouldn’t be able to form a sentence.

“I’ll take her home,” a voice called from behind you, and you turned to see Quinn leaning against her door frame. The redhead wore a sheer white blouse, and you could see her red lingerie bra.

“I’m fine with that,” you replied too quickly with a smile on your face.

But Sam scoffed at your words before moving to grab her keys. “Absolutely not. Come on, Y/N. I’ll take you,” Sam stated as she pushed past you to open the door. You gave Quinn a small wave and told Tara you would text her as you gathered up Carlos, your fake beard and wig, along with your sunglasses, before following Sam out to her car.

“Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it, Sam,” you commented as you buckled up. Sam huffed in response as she started her car.

“How do I get to your house?” Sam asked after a few moments of driving down a random street. You told the woman your address, and Sam wanted to scream when she realized it would take almost thirty minutes to get to your house due to traffic.

The car was filled with the heavenly voice of Lana Del Rey as you leaned your head back against the headrest and looked over at Sam. You couldn’t explain it, but Sam was exactly what you would imagine a Lana Del Rey song would look like.

“Stop staring at me; you’re creepy as shit,” Sam said once she felt your eyes on her.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat while staring at the floor. “So, Tara told me your favorite movie is The Hangover?” You questioned while fidgeting with your fingers.

A few seconds passed before dryly said, “Yes.” And even more, seconds passed before she added, “I hope Carlos had a fun night.”

You lightly chuckled at the woman’s words as you messed with Carlos’ plastic hands, “Yeah, he had a blast tonight.”

Sam responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she continued driving, enjoying the awkward silence that filled the air.

When Sam arrived at your apartment, she realized that you lived in the nicer part of New York, and she loathed you for it. Not only were you a nuisance, you were more than likely a spoiled rich brat, and Sam could not wait to get rid of you.

“This is me,” you quietly mumbled while getting out of the vehicle with your items in hand as Sam rolled down the window to talk to you, “Thank you for the ride, Sam. I appreciate it,” you said as you pulled out your wallet and handed the woman a ten dollar through the window.

She looked between you and the money before staring into your eyes, “I’m not having sex with you for money.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. “What? No. No! That’s not what I was implying,” you quickly defended before looking at Sam, “Why would you think?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders before speaking, “Because all you’ve done tonight is stare at me, so you either want sex or want to kill me,” Sam suggested.

“Why would I want to kill you?”

“Because you’re being creepy as shit! And you told Tara you were going to murder her.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I was completely joking about the whole murder thing,” you replied with a small laugh that Sam clearly didn’t find funny. You didn’t know about the past traumas the sisters have gone through together, and Sam knew that you didn’t know, but it didn’t make her feel any better toward you.

“Whatever,” Sam replied as she took your money before driving off.

“Goodnight, Sam!” You exclaimed while the car pulled away, and you sighed before heading to your apartment. Sam might not be the biggest fan of you right now, but you vowed you would win over the woman’s heart, no matter what it took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winning over Sam was much more challenging than you initially thought it would be. Every time you visited Tara at her place, Sam wouldn’t even acknowledge you, and anytime you would try to talk to her, she would quickly dismiss you. But you were ever the persistent type, and you knew you would eventually wiggle your way into her heart.

It had been exactly four months since you met Tara, and the girl was planning a memorable evening for you two to celebrate the milestone in your friendship.

You approached her apartment door and knocked thrice. Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened and revealed a grumpy Sam. “What do you want?” The woman questioned while looking up and down, her eyes moving to your right hand, “Why do you have flowers?”

“These are for you, actually,” you replied with a smile as you handed Sam her flowers. Sam studied you before reaching out and accepting the flowers, “Thanks, I guess.”

Now, Sam would never admit this even if someone held a gun to her head, but the way she felt knowing that you had gotten her real flowers and not some cheap fake ones from the Dollar Store, it was different. No one had ever brought her flowers before, and especially not in a romantic way, if that’s the game you were playing at.

The Latina studied the flowers and couldn’t help but chuckle at them: lavenders and violets; how subtle you were.

“So,” you said with a cheesy smile, “I’m here to hang out with Tara.”

“Tara! Your weird friend is here!” Sam shouted into the apartment before walking into the living room, with you a few steps behind her.

‘Sweet, that’s exactly how I like to be announced,’ you thought while moving to sit on the couch. You silently watched as Sam walked into the kitchen and threw away the flowers, and it pained you to see the beautiful blooms go to waste.

A few seconds passed when an overly excited Tara came into the living room and jumped onto the couch right next to you.

“Alright, here’s the plan: we order pizza, watch a movie and make some cookies, and then drink wine and paint. Deal?” Tara asked with eagerness and a giant smile on her face. “Sounds like a deal,” you replied while matching her grin. “Good,” Tara exclaimed while jumping off the couch and hunting for her phone to call in the pizza.

When the pizza arrived, you and Tara ate at the kitchen table along with Sam and Quinn. Naturally, the dinner was a bit awkward, as Quinn kept on hitting on you, and Sam would glare at you. You weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed the redhead's attention and were more than eager to answer her questions about your hometown and what you were majoring in.

Once you four had finished the pizza off, Tara set up a movie in the living room while Quinn left to go meet up with one of her many gentlemen callers, leaving just you and Sam in the kitchen.

The Latina watched as you pulled out some cookie dough and began preparing. “You know, you could always help,” you said while turning on the oven and pulling out a baking pan, and cleaning it off.

“I’m good,” Sam dryly replied as she crossed her arms and continued watching you work. You felt uncomfortable with her eyes burning into the back of your skull, “Stop staring; you’re creepy as shit.”

Sam huffed at your words before letting out a sound that sounded like a slight chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” the woman retorted while watching you eat a raw cookie dough bite, “you know you can get salmonella and die from that, right?”

You lightly chuckled at Sam’s as you finished eating the cookie dough, “Then I will be the first person in the history of the world to die from salmonella.”

You ignored the quiet ‘thank god,’ Sam muttered under her breath as Tara entered the room. “How are the cookies coming?” The girl questioned while eating a raw piece of cookie dough as well. “There wouldn't be any if you two keep on eating them,” Sam stated as she pushed you away from the pan and set the pieces of cookie dough on it.

“Why did you do that? I am perfectly capable of setting them out myself,” you said while watching Sam finish placing the cookie dough on the pan. “Because you and Tara would just eat it all,” the older woman replied as she put the pan in the oven and closed the door.

“If you say so,” you retorted as you entered the living room with Tara. You sat on the couch first and allowed Tara to cuddle up next to you as she pressed play on the movie.

You two enjoyed the peaceful comfort that had fallen over you when Sam called out, “Cookies are done,” while walking into the living room. “Seriously, you two? Shrek?” Sam asked while she watched the screen. “Yes, Sam. Shrek is amazing,” Tara retorted as she pushed off you and practically flew into the kitchen.

You gave Sam a tight-lipped smile as you walked past her and ate some cookies with Tara. And soon enough, Sam joined you two in the kitchen.

The woman stared at you as you finished your cookie and walked toward you. “You have something on your lip,” Sam said as she reached out and gently wiped away a piece of chocolate from the corner of your lips. You felt your heart explode at the contact and your knees weaken; you thought you would surely die if Sam kept this up.

She let her thumb linger on your lips before gently swiping it across your bottom lip with a smirk on her own lips before walking off to her room. She didn’t know why she did it, but it stirred something in her as she watched your shocked expression and lustful eyes dance across her face.

“What the fuck was that?” Tara asked as she shoved you once Sam was out of earshot.

“Huh uh,” you replied with a love sock grin as you stared at the hallway Sam disappeared into. The more petite girl gave you a look of disgust before pulling you into the living room to drink and paint, but your mind kept on drifting back to the beautiful woman who hated you as you worked. And before you knew it, you had accidentally painted a picture of Sam. In the painting, she was leaning against a doorframe wearing a skin-tight gray long-sleeve shirt that highlighted her muscles with jeans. A casual outfit you had seen Sam wear numerous times, but she still looked breathtaking.

Her eyes amused you the most in the picture; even though it wasn’t a close-up painting, her dark eyes still seemed to pull you in, and you could faintly see the monster she hid behind them.

You fell head over heels for Sam Carpenter that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once every month, you would go over to Tara’s apartment for wine and painting, and it was probably the one night you looked forward to every month.

Not because you got an excuse to drink and stare lustfully at Tara’s controversial hot sister, but because you enjoyed creating the most horrific art pieces with the girl that no one should ever see.

“What the hell is that?” Tara drunkenly laughed one night after a few too many glasses of wine.

“I don’t know!” You said while watching Tara’s tone. You had created what was supposed to be your version of Sully from Monsters Inc but had made a giant blurb of blue and purple with the slightest resemblance to Ed Sheeran.

“Will you two keep it down?” Sam asked as she walked into the living room, wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.

You choked on your spit when you saw the woman and nearly fainted when a single drop of water ran down her defined abs.

“Sorry about that, Sam,” Tara replied with a drunken smile before returning to her painting, entirely ignorant of your lustful state.

One moment you were sitting next to Tara, and the next, you were in the kitchen next to Sam.

“Hey,” you husked out with a flirtatious smile and a nod as you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to act sober and calm simultaneously.

“Hi,” Sam suspiciously replied as her eyes racked over your body and took in your drunken state.

“How you doin’?” You asked, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at your shitty attempt to flirt with her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Sam asked while getting out a bottle of water and facing you. You shrugged your shoulders as you pushed off the doorframe, “Would you like to come paint with us?”

At the mention of her sister joining in on the activity, Tara yelled from the living room, “Sam! Sammy! You have to come and paint with us!”

Sam sighed at her sister’s words before walking into her room, throwing on a random shirt and grudgingly sauntering into the living room and picking up a blank canvas as she sat beside you.

You three worked in silence as the soft sounds of Hozier filled the air. Sam would occasionally sneak a peek at your work, but you would always hide it. And when she finally got a good look at it, she wished she hadn’t seen it.

“Y/N. Why the fuck did you paint a naked lady?” Sam demanded as she stared at your artwork.

It was a sloppy picture of a woman wearing a white dress with one boob hanging out, and Sam had to admit, those had to be the biggest boobs she’s ever seen. The lady in the painting wore a faint black hat, and somehow, she looked familiar to Sam.

“Do not hate on my lovely wife, Samantha Carpenter. I shall have you know that Lady Dimitrescu is one of the finest women I have ever seen!” You defended while looking over at Sam’s artwork, “And what did you come up with?”

When you leaned over and saw what Sam had made, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. A frown pulled at your lips as you looked at a shitty painting of Sam stabbing you with a knife.

“It was a joke,” Sam whispered as her heart broke at your saddened expression. When she first started it, she felt good about it, and it made her happy. But now that she looked at your hallowed eyes and frowning lips, she wished she hadn't made it.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied as you cleared your throat and stood up, “Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to bed,” you finished as you walked off to Tara’s room and shut the door. You ignored the feeling of Sam’s eyes burning into your back.

“Way to go, Sam,” Tara scoffed as she stood up from the couch and went to her room to check on you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, and Tara tried her best to get her sister to warm up to you, but no matter how hard she worked, Sam refused to bridge.

But Tara didn’t know that Sam went to bed that night with regret plaguing her heart and mind as she went to sleep with the thought of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that awkward night, you stopped coming to the Carpenter’s apartment as much. At first, you would say that you would have homework to catch up on, which was true, but then after a while, you completely stopped coming over at all.

Of course, you would talk to Tara every day, but when she invited you over, you would miraculously have something else to do that prevented you from coming.

“It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?” Tara asked you. The two of you were back at another frat party for Miles, and you were enjoying a peaceful conversation outside when Tara finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for weeks. “Pshh, no,” you replied with a shrug.

“Y/N, stop lying to me; I know it’s because of that picture she made,” Tara stated as she stared up at you, “Sam didn’t mean it.”

You scoffed at your best friend’s words while rolling your eyes. “The fuck do you mean she didn’t mean it, Tara!” You exclaimed.

“I mean, she felt bad afterward.”

“Yeah, right. You’re just lying because you want me to come back over.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara replied with a smile.

You two continued your conversation while occasionally people-watching until it was time to leave. Sam had slowly started to loosen up with Tara, so she was letting her sister go out more as long as she was there to pick up the girl. “Alright, Sam is on her way,” Tara commented when she read a text. You nodded at the girl’s words and tried to hide that you didn’t want to see Sam.

You hadn’t talked to the woman since that night, and you didn’t want to. Even though you were hopelessly devoted to Sam, you were hurt by how she treated you. You had been nice to her, and she would reject all of it, and weirdly, it hurt you to see Sam push you away.

Tara picked up on your pondering thoughts and reached a hand out, and rubbed it up and down your bicep. “Y/N, Sam is a grumpy asshole who is overprotective; don’t take it personally,” Tara said while reaching up to pinch your cheek with a smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sam said as she approached you two. You quickly slapped Tara’s hand away from your face before looking at Sam. You had missed the dark-eyed woman and were glad to see her again, but you were still upset with the woman.

“No, you’re good,” Tara replied as she started following Sam to her car with you beside her.

The walk back to the vehicle was peaceful and filled with small banter between you and Tara, while Sam kept quiet until you ran into a group of drunken girls.

You could tell that they meant trouble before you were anywhere near them. The group was small, only consisting of three girls, but you could tell they were trouble as they stared down Sam when they walked past.

Sam pulled Tara into her side as the group walked by, and the woman said nothing when one of the girls shoulder-checked her.

“Come on,” Sam whispered while pulling Tara closer to her. You sent the group of girls a glance while walking, and you noticed how they stopped and turned around, and began walking behind you and the sisters.

“Hey!” One of the girls called, and Sam didn’t have time to react when she turned to face the girl and had a red slushie thrown on her.

The girls called Sam anything from a murderer to a liar, even to a whore, but Sam continued walking with tears in her eyes. She could handle all of the conspiracy theorist nuts, but she couldn’t handle having Tara see how she was treated.

So, when one girl called Sam a murderer again, you turned around and threw a punch. The sound of bone crunching rang throughout the air when your fist made contact with the girl's nose and was followed up by the girl's cries.

“You need to get your psycho girlfriend in check, you fucking murderer,” another girl cried out as she checked on her friend. You chuckled at the girl’s words and were getting ready to retort when you received a punch from the third girl.

You stumbled backward into Sam, and to your surprise, she caught you and whispered a quiet “I got you,” while you steadied your feet. “Come on,” Tara said as she dragged you and Sam away from the group.

The three of you walked briskly to Sam’s car as blood poured from your nose. When you reached the car, Sam opened her glove box and handed you some tissues, which you graciously accepted. You sat in the back seat while Sam drove, and Tara tried to talk to you.

“Tara, I love you so much, but I am in so much pain right now,” you choked out as you pressed the tissues to your bloody nose. Tara didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but your nose was definitely broken, and she was not going to be the one to put it back in place.

“How are you doing back there?” Sam asked while quickly glancing back at you. “My nose is in my brain!” You exaggerated while holding your nose, and Sam chuckled at your response as she continued driving.

When you got to the Carpenter apartment, the blood had stopped pouring out, and you were thanking the gods as it had completely covered the tissues in crimson blood along with your chin. “Sit on the couch; I’ll be right back,” Tara said as she pushed you and Sam onto the couch.

Tara disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit before returning to the living room, and she laughed at the sight of you and her sister. The slushie on Sam’s shirt matched the blood that had dried on the tissues and stained your chin, and you both looked like you had gone through hell.

Tara moved the coffee table closer to you and started to work on cleaning it up when Sam stopped her. “I got her, Tara. Go to bed,” Sam softly spoke as she moved the first-aid kit closer to her. Tara gave her sister a questionable look before muttering, “Okay,” and walking off to her room.

You watched as Sam pulled out some alcohol wipes and gently cleaned up your nose, and you let out a slight hiss as the alcohol seeped into a cut on the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” Sam apologized as she finished cleaning your nose, “It’s broken.”

“I know,” you groaned, and Sam lightly laughed at your response. “I can pop it back into place for you,” Sam offered.

“Hell no,” you replied, laughing, “I would need lidocaine with epinephrine injected into my nose and then lidocaine sprayed into my nose! Then you would need a device to basically reach my brain and put a shit ton of pressure on my nose with it and your fingers to fix it!”

“Well, I’ll take you to the ER tomorrow so we can get it fixed,” Sam asked as she got up from the couch and saw the backpack you had left over before you went to the frat party with Tara.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asked as she moved your bag and pulled out a painting. You whipped your head around at the woman’s words and instantly stood up from the couch and moved to her side. “That’s nothing,” you quickly said as you tried to prevent Sam from looking at it, but it was too late.

When Sam picked up the painting, she felt her stomach do involuntary flips, and her breath hitched in her throat; it was a painting of her and not just a normal one. She noticed imperfections about her that you saw as perfect through the gentle brush strokes, and she felt herself fall for you.

“I’m not one of your French girls,” Sam joked as she set the painting back down, but you noticed the smile that threatened to appear and how her eyes bravely traveled to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam added as she gently placed a small kiss on your cheek before going to her room.

You had no idea how you did it, but you somehow managed to make Sam Carpenter fall for you and you could not wait to see where it would take you.

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #Spotify

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two-white-butterflies · 9 months

Text

tolerate it | c16

Description: After a month of breaking up with Charles. You release a song that finally speaks about your experience.

Pairing: charles leclerc/singer!reader

waitingroomcouple2: according to insiders, y/n and longtime boyfriend charles leclerc are headed towards breakupville.

liked by ynupdates and 12,129 others

comments

asianbutnotjapanese: EXCUSE ME? First Sofia and Joe, Taylor and Joe and now Charles and Y/N?

yakisobaramens2: give me time. i need to process things.

>view 421 comments

"Hey, Charles." you cleared your throat - pretending that you didn't just spend the past hours crying about him.

"I know that I told you that we needed space to think things through, but I don't think that we're happening anymore. I-I somehow, the breakup got leaked and I don't really know how we'll build up from that. I hope that you understand."

Charles finished listening to the voicemail that you sent him 30 minutes ago. He couldn't believe that it finally happened. Sure, you spent half a month fighting with him - but he thought that things would get better after that.

"Are you alright?" Pierre sits beside him with a bowl of ramen. "Ah, yeah." Charles replied - completely out of his zone. He always believed that his life was cut up in two sections: before you, and during you - but he never assumed that there would be an after you.

Jesus, when you've reached heaven - there's only one way left to go: down, and he descended awfully.

"You've been very hush hush about your 'break' with Y/N. Are you back together?" Pierre inquired, concerned about his childhood friend. "That's impossible," Charles mumbled while his friend stuffed his face with more noodles.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Pierre patted his back.

"- It'll get better." he adds.

Charles_Leclerc: Feeling pretty good in Suzuka.

liked by yourusername, pierreGASLY and 1,291,023 others

comments

maybeletslovern2: Y/N and Charles aren't over. She's still in the likes guys 🙈 - charlosworld55: and Joe Alwyn still follows Taylor? Ur point is?

lovingthiseasy8: pole for leclerc?

pierreGASLY: Forza! 🇲🇨

>view 912 comments

yourusername: You're so much older and wiser and I. Announcing my newest single "Tolerate It" for the newest 'Barbie' movie that comes in three versions: She Version and He Version and They Version. Basically just diff pronouns. Hope u guys like it. 💙

liked by Charles_Leclerc, billieeilish and 1,928,100 likes

comments

Charles_Leclerc: Another amazing song! 🔥

ynandcharles: he commented, checkmate guys.

taylorswift: Tears in my eyes, Y/N. 💧

>view 1920 comments

yourusername: there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. the slowest way is never loving them enough. (wise words from my friend @taylorswift)

liked by landonorris and 2,391,209 others

comments

lucindaleong2: Lando is stirring the pot by liking this post HAHA

Charles_Leclerc: Reply to my messages please.

taylorswift: You deserve someone who will love you enough. I'm proud of you sister. - yourusername: thank u sm taylor 💙

>view 920 comments

Charles_Leclerc: And if I ever did something wrong, let me make it right. P3 in Spa, but left the circuit feeling like something was missing.

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,290,821 others

comments

yourusername: Congratulations Charles! You definitely deserved this podium, I've seen you work soo hard to get this spot. 💙 - Charles_Leclerc: 💙

(SIX MONTHS LATER)

yourusername: an hour of mansplaining with this dude...still, i luv u.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, Charles_Leclerc and 1,290,192 others

comments

maxverstappen1: Is there another pic more blurry that this? 🤣 - yourusername: doesn't matter cuz my love for u is clear 😉

landonorris: The hand 💀 chill mate, she isn't going anywhere.

greeaat99: Charles was Ken (Barbie 2023) but Max is Ken (Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse.)

gigihadid: Rocking that black hair mother ❤️ - yourusername: No, YOU are mother. 😜😍

>view 1029 comments

yourusername posted to her story!

replies maxverstappen1: Am I legally allowed to call you mommy now? yourusername: RIP to ur social media manager who has to look at this message 😭

yourusername: i take this magnetic force of a man to be my. ✨LOVER✨ will be out midnight EST. Happy 4th month babe! tho u always tell me that it feels like we've known each other for forever. Hoping to have an album out before baby jellybean comes out. Which will be ... 7 months from now, though ya'll are nasty telling me that my stomach looks like I'm in the 5th month 😡.

liked by Charles_Leclerc, and 2,192,190 others.

comments

maxverstappen1: Happy 4th ❤️

Charles_Leclerc: Congrats on the baby! - yourusername: thank u

loverboy9: the way that this could've been charles' baby if they just stayed together 😭

>view 39239 comments

maxverstappen1: I found the love of my life this year, I hope that everyone finds theirs too! My girlfriend's new song 'Lover' will be out on midnight and it would mean the world to us if you listened to it.

liked by yourusername, and 1,299,012 others

comments

yourusername: OK we'll just adjust our heads to look at this picture - maxverstappen1: and?

yourusername: listen to me pls so max can afford some internet money in his little game

landonorris: I don't listen to underground artists, sorry. - yourusername: LISTEN TO ME. u broke his trophy this is the least that u can do? - - landonorris: ever heard of kintsugi? - - - yourusername: the lana del rey song?

>view 991 comments

yourusername: posting this version because the one on @maxverstappen1's profile is 🤮.

liked by landonorris and 2,191,100 others

comments

taylorswift: You are GLOWING. - yourusername: I can still make the whole place shimmer.

landonorris: when is baby jellybean coming out? - maxverstappen1: ❤️

charlesandynuniverse: The real ones know that the baby is fathered by Charles. - yourusername: stop this bs, don't wait until i slap the paternity test on ur face 🤣

teachermee91: THE WAY THAT Y/N IS STILL A FIGHTER. I LOVE HER. WAHHAHAHAHA.

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jae-sch-writes · 3 months

Text

Fruity Confessions

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,584

Genre: fluffy goodness

Summary: After a hunt, the Reader gets very drunk. What will Sam do?

Warnings: alcohol consumption (like, a lot of it), mention of murder (nothing out of SPN norm), mention of smut (in a book), hinted at smutty thoughts

A/N: What's up Tumblr? It's been a while. Writing is gonna be all over the place because I have a kid now! (crazy, right?) But as a SAHM, I have a lot of free time to write, so here's to (hopefully), getting back into it. Edited by Grammarly, but any and all mistakes are no one's fault but me, myself, and I.

Want to read more? SPN Masterlist Full Masterlist

You were a fruity drink kinda girl. While the boys had their variety of beers, you preferred Smirnoff Ices or a seltzer of some kind. When the situation called for something a little harder, like at the end of every hunt, the Winchesters drank whiskey, and you enjoyed a bottle of wine.

With each state you’ve gone to, you made sure to find a winery from that state, and if they had a fruity-flavored bottle, you were definitely getting at least one. This time- Wisconsin.

A hunt had brought you to Green Bay: at Lambeau Field to be specific. Home field Packers’ games were canceled after eight different fans of the Detroit Lions were found dead after their game. It didn’t take long to find out it was a ghost, however, finding out who the ghost was was a different story. After lots of research, Sam had determined it was Bart Starr, the Packers’ quarterback during their first Super Bowl win.

“The dude’s buried in Alabama, so how the hell did he make it here beyond the grave?” Dean asked.

“One of Starr’s jerseys is at the Field. That’s definitely what he’s being tethered to, but it’s gonna be difficult getting it out of its case. Lambeau has all of their memorabilia in cases with alarms,” you said, not looking up from your book. After some moments of silence, you looked up to see Sam and Dean looking at you like you had three heads. “What? I know things.”

“Yeah, but about football?” Dean was shocked. “Not even the game itself, but the fact you just happened to know one of these random player’s jerseys was in their museum? It’s weird.”

“Dean, leave her be, she literally just told us what we’ve gotta burn.” Sam was impressed. While he had never been interested in sports, he was pleasantly surprised by your knowledge, however niche of a topic it may be. “But, I gotta know,” Sam turned to you, “how did you know that?”

“I’ve been to a game or two at Lambeau Field. My dad was a Packers fan.”

You happened to be the one to go to the jersey to burn it while the boys were your backup. The faded green jersey with the number 15 on it was lit up in its display case. You all knew it had to be in and out. Break the case, burn the jersey, and get the hell out.

The sound of shattering glass came with the sound of an alarm, alerting the guard at the entrance to the museum portion of the stadium. Bart Starr was throwing around Sam and Dean like they were footballs.

You had just barely been able to get a match onto the jersey before security was able to see you. Luckily, the small flame was enough to distract him and made him run in the opposite direction to get a fire extinguisher.

The next morning, as Sam and Dean were packing up, you drove to a state business called Festival Foods. There, you found their selection of state-made wines. You opted for a couple of labels all made of cranberries. If you were grabbing wines made in Wisconsin, you might as well grab ones made with one of the state’s bigger industries.

You spent the twelve hours from Green Bay back to Lebanon in almost complete silence. You and Sam reading your books, and Dean humming along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

The minute you got home, you grabbed the cooler and went to the kitchen. Your only thoughts were on the wine you had got and how you needed to try it.

“Y/N, you didn’t even grab your-” Sam’s sentence was interrupted by seeing you grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard. “I’ll go put your bag in your room.” Sam knew better than to get between you and your wine. The last time he tried that, he ended up on the floor from trying to cut you off for the night. Your love for wine and need for a drink after a hunt had given you the drunken power to somehow take him down, despite the size difference between you and him.

Sam retreated from the kitchen to his bedroom. You took your bottle, glass, and book to the library and settled yourself into the loveseat you had picked for nights like these.

About 3/4ths of the bottle in, you had abandoned the thought of a wine glass and just started drinking straight from the bottle. Your mind was wandering from the fantasy-romance you were reading and to thoughts of Sam. When you reached a smutty part of the story, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Sam in that way.

You were now a bottle down, and made your way back to the kitchen to open up another one. It really didn't take long for you to finish the second bottle. You were stumbling to the kitchen, with the intent to grab your third bottle, when you were stopped by the table in the library, not at it, by it. You had walked right into it, almost like you forgot the large oak table was there.

Getting to the kitchen truly was difficult for you, your drunken version of a marathon. Sam heard all of the commotion going on and took a guess on where you were heading. Usually he would leave you be, but being able to hear you walk into things, he decided to risk you being mad at him.

He stood in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, and let you walk right into him. It took him everything to keep him from laughing at your face when you were met with the wall of muscle.

“Sammy, whaddya doin’ here?” Your words were slurred, but not incoherent.

“Preventing alcohol poisoning,” Sam grabbed your hand and guided you down the hall. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Can I sleep in yours?” Your drunken state left you with no filter. The words just came out of your mouth.

“Ya know, given you walked right into me like I was invisible, that might actually be a good idea.”

Sam’s response invoked a giggle from you, and he couldn't help but smile. Even though you were stumbling down the halls of the Bunker, bumping into Sam every couple of steps, he thought you were adorable. You were usually pretty reserved and in control, but like this, you’re care-free, not calculating your every move.

It took almost twice as long to get to Sam’s room as usual with how many times you bumped into him or tripped over your own feet resulting in him having to catch you. Sam told himself after the fourth time if you fell one more time, he was just going to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way. Much to his dismay, that did not happen. He would have loved to know your reaction in the morning if you remembered him doing that.

When you finally reached Sam’s room, the first thing you did was flop on the bed, or attempt to anyway. Thankfully, you fell just short of landing all the way on so your head never hit the floor. Sam chuckled and helped you up. Before laying back down, you took off your shirt, leaving you in just your bra and sweatpants.

This wasn't the first time Sam had seen you without a shirt, or the first time the two of you shared a bed, but this time was different. This time you were drunk and didn't really know what you were doing. In your drunken state, you were just getting ready for bed, for Sam, he couldn't help but think that you thought of him as someone safe. Why else would you have asked if you could stay with him tonight?

Sam got you comfy on the bed, all the while you were giggling up a storm. Sam looked at you and smiled. “What? What's so funny, Y/N/N?”

“Nothin’. I just think you're cute. And tall,” you looked at Sam with big eyes and a goofy grin. “Oh my gosh you're so tall.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled. “Let's just get you to sleep, alright?”

You nodded as he helped you make sure you didn't smack your head against his bed frame. Sam grabbed the small trash can sitting at his desk and brought it to your side of the bed. You usually held your liquor really well, but given your state, he didn't want to take any chances.

“Sammy?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” your voice got serious. Sam knew you'd be falling asleep soon, you always stopped being goofy towards the end of the night.

“I mean it. I really do,” Sam knew you weren't just saying that because you were drunk. If you were talking, your filter may be going, but you mean every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I know you do,” Sam smiled softly before crawling into his bed behind you and pulling his blanket over the two of you. He let his arm fall over your side and rubbed his thumb in small circles over your stomach. He hated not knowing if you were going to remember this in the morning.

He waited to hear your breathing become slow and steady before whispering, “I love you, too, Y/N/N.”

Tag List

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#fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #imagine #oneshot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester oneshot #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn #supernatural fluff #spn fluff

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jamiedryssnail · 3 months

Text

Safe now

Love of my Life Au

Warnings : fighting, swearing, underage drinking, and attempted SA

He was 6,1 and on the hockey team guys knew to keep clear of him and his girl. Obviously he is the biggest sweetheart but if you didn’t know this well then good luck because he can be intimidating when he wants to.

He always has a need to hold her, go to the bathroom with her, get her drinks so they don’t get spiked. He is protective but he knows he needs to be because you don’t know what types you get at big parties like this.

He also knows that all the hockey boys will look out for each others girls. Madi especially I mean she is practically hockey royalty and they are all like her older brothers. There is also the factor that her brothers would kill you if anything happened to her. Now if you think Rutger looks intimidating try her three NHL player brothers Quinn, Jack, and Luke.

Mads was not drinking at all just Coke Zero for her. She is a very serious athlete and her mum Ellen always said athletes don’t drink in the season. This came as more of a suggestion to her brothers ( jack ) but she took it to heart. Always wanting to perform her best and not take any chances of being sick, dehydrated, or tired.

Hence why Rut thought it was fine for her to go to the bathroom by herself. She hadn’t been drinking and the bathroom was in view from we’re they were standing, talking to Mark and Ethan. “Just meet me right back here as soon as you are done” he noted as he was very cautious of his girl. “It’s one of the biggest parties of the year who knows who is here mads, ok” he says making his point clear.

If it was any other party he would have been fine and more at ease. But Michigan had just won the rose bowl so it was hectic and everyone was there drunk off their asses. He had heard of many cases at parties like this of girls getting spiked or assaulted by guys. “Ok baby I’ll be quick, then maybe we could head home yeah” she said in a suggestive tone. Mads wondered off into the crowd seeing the huge line for the bathroom. There had to be at least twelve people ahead of her.

As she waited in the line she saw Dylan duke her long time best friend. “Dyl, we’re have you been all night” she asked knowing just why he had been preoccupied. “Oh shut up she is pretty ok and she thinks I’m hot” “Sure, Dylan” she joked.

As they chit chatted she gave rut a little wave before he looked away smiling re entering the conversation he was having.

“Oh my god what are these people doing in the bathroom” She exclaimed obviously busting to pee. “Mads don’t wait in this queue just go upstairs, it’s what I’ve been using”. Dylan says directing her

Unsure Madi made her way upstairs passing a few couples that couldn’t seem to wait til they got home to get with each other. As she made her way to the top she looked in a few rooms for a free bathroom. Accidentally walking in on a few couples getting at it she got a few ‘what the hell’s’ and ‘do you minds’. She finally found a free one and quickly used it.

Quickly using it and then touching up her makeup for the night ahead with rut she opened the door ready to go downstairs. As she started walking out she saw a guy she had never seen before looking directly at her. “Hey Mads right?” He asked “It’s Madison.” She said sternly trying to get out of there as soon as possible. She so did not feel like having a conversation with a gross stranger who obviously just wanted to get in her pants. Mads tried to exit but he grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear “ I don’t really care what your name is or how you say it you have a decent rack so you better shut the fuck up” Madi then trying to scream and kick her way out causing some kind of attention.

The guy put her hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the bathroom locking the door. She tried to fight back but he wasn’t budging instead hitting her in the face making her drowsy. She kept trying to push him away but he was a big dude and was to strong.

As she felt the blood start drip down from the top of her face she couldn’t help but cry.

Rutgers Pov,

“Hey has anyone seen Mads”

He had been asking everyone at the party for the last ten minutes.

“Rut hey dude mads just went to the toilet upstairs”

“Alone are you fucking with me” he said fuming at Dylan for even thinking that was ok. Rutger knows what guys are like and he was ready to beat the shit out of anyone.

Rutger rushed upstairs and searched everywhere to find one bathroom door locked. He banged on it then to hear Madi’s soft pleas to stop and get off her.

“Open up you asshole” Rutger screamed he swore the whole party had heard him but he didn’t care, he just wanted to hold mads. Luckily the guy had only just locked the door so nothing major had happened.

Finally the guy opened up the door expecting some guy who drank to much beer and needed the restroom. Before he knew it there was a guy jumping on him punching him repeatedly until he had blood all over his face. “Fucking touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you” he yelled like someone had died. Luca and Dylan seeing this run to pull Rut off the guy, then something catches ruts eyes. Madi standing frail and scared a few feet away. He goes to hold her and then sees blood. She has a cut on her upper eyebrow.

“You son of a bitch you laid hands on my girl” Rutger yells knowing he can’t do anything because he has to hold mads. “Oh fuck off as if you’d be dating her if she wasn’t a Hughes and didn’t have a rack”. Then the guy spoke up again “she’s a slut you know what have ur hooker looking girlfriend”. At this point Rutger was beyond pissed he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Fucking say it again I dare you” “As if you’d be dating her if she wasn’t a Hughes and didn’t have a rack she’s a good hit admit it” Rutger then decided to leave it until he heard a “Yea go have my sloppy seconds I got to her first tonight” and with that the guy was almost passed out on the floor from another hit. Luca lunges to towards him telling him to leave before they call the cops.

“Oh my girl you poor thing come here” rut says to mads. “I’m sorry for not being there I’m horrible” he whispers. “No Rut you were there don’t blame yourself for others actions, please baby”. Madi said

Rutger and Mads slowly walk down stairs trying to exit the house and get back to someone’s dorm. He did not let go of her at all after that. Finally finding the front yard Rutger picks her up and puts her in his car. “Oh sweet girl I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again”.

When they get to Madi’s dorm Rutger grabs the first aid kit Madi uses to clean him up after he gets into fights at games. He carefully dabs a cotton bud and some disinfectant oil for her cut. He then fixes himself up knowing his girl is to tired to do it for him like usual.

Rutger helps madi out of her little dress and into one of her (his) shirts and his boxers. He can’t help at smile at his beautiful girl almost drowning in his clothes.

After they both get into comfy clothes they find themselves cuddled up in bundles of blankets and pillows holding each other. Rutger is just happy she is safe now, and when I tell you he will never let her go again i mean never. He is walking her to and from every class, holding her tightly at parties, and taking her to her training. Anyway let’s just say Rut is content but also not looking forward to her brothers finding out especially jack.

#*𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐨𝐟𝐦𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐮*#rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty au #rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger x madi #rutger mcgroarty imagines #umich hockey #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #dylan duke #Dylan duke x reader #mark estapa #ethan edwards #hughes sister #hughes brothers #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes

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