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mickandmusings · 3 months

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third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #twisters #glen powell #Tyler Owens x you #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you

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bpmiranda · 1 month

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Request: So there is this song called f u in my head and I was thinking what if the reader is a telepath and she doesn’t realize that she is sharing her thoughts with Logan

In My Head (Logan Howlett) nsfw

A/N: 18+ f!mutant reader, age gap, rough sex, smut, cream pie

Y/N was scribbling notes absentmindedly as she listened to Professor Storm talk about the history of the X gene, and though her notes were concise with the lesson, her thoughts were elsewhere. Dirty thoughts of Logan Howlett swirled in her mind like a tornado that flew every other trivial wonderment right out of her head, leaving the space just for him to fill.

It was much harder to focus when he subbed for one of her classes. Her body language told anyone that looked at her that she was actively engaged, taking notes, listening intently. But in reality, she had zoned out and was thinking about him in scenarios that were definitely not appropriate for her to fantasize herself in with the older man. Y/N was just glad that Logan didn’t have to ability to read her mind, some of the dirty things she thought were better left unsaid.

Little did she know, Logan could hear everything. It was odd at first, he thought she was doing it on purpose to rile him up during class. But whenever he spoke to her, she was flustered and stammering as if she wasn’t just projecting the filthiest thoughts into his head. Thoughts of him taking her over the desk he was currently standing behind, covering her mouth so that no one would hear them in the hall, rutting deep into her until she had tears streaming down her face. Perhaps she didn’t realize she was capable of doing that yet.

It became too much for him. Having to be in the same room and hearing her thoughts in his head, the images she put in his mind immediately as she thought them. All explicit and needy for him. Logan excused himself from the conversation he was having with Hank and walked into the kitchen where she was cutting fruits for a salad. “You’ve gotta stop.” He said in her ear, holding her arm firmly as he stood behind her.

Y/N froze, her skin crawling with goosebumps as he touched her, pressed himself so closely against her she could feel his chest rising against her back. “Stop what? Cutting fruit?” She asked in genuine confusion, looking down at the cutting board to see if she was doing it wrong. Logan couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips and he eased his grip on her arm.

“I can hear your thoughts.” He confessed to her, his hand sliding down her arm and onto her hip. Her body tensed up and her eyes went wide with surprise. “I don’t know how, but everything you’re thinking or imagining, I can hear and I can see it in my head, and it’s driving me up the damn wall.” He said the last part through gritted teeth.

Her mouth fell open and her cheeks burned from embarrassment. “Logan, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” She murmured, turning to face him and he took a step back. His eyes trailed down her body, her little top and her leggings molding to the shape of her thighs. She’s just a kid, she’s just a kid, he shook the thought out of his head, moistening his lips while his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he left the kitchen and headed upstairs to his room.

That night, Y/N laid quietly in her room, horrified at the realization that Logan knew everything. He knew she wanted him, knew her deep desires for him to ravish her, pound into her, whisper filthy things about how no one else could ever compare to how he pleasured her. As if he were reading her mind again, her bedroom door opened and she sat up quickly to see Logan coming in. A finger was over his lips and she nodded, watching him crawl onto her bed and hover in front of her face. "Logan," She breathed out as he took her cheek in his hand and kissed her. Her eyes closed and she let herself sink into the kiss, her heart was beating fast, and Logan could hear it.

"Can you keep this quiet?" He asked and she nodded furiously, already grabbing at his shoulders and bringing him into a deeper kiss. Logan grabbed her around the waist with one arm as he slowly moved to lay down on top of her. "Your thoughts are so loud and dirty." He murmured, making her blush.

"Do they make you nervous?" She asked with a small, teasing smile and Logan chuckled.

"Just be glad you didn't read my mind, sweet girl." His tone implied that his fantasies were much filthier than hers and she forced down the lump forming in her throat. "Wanna see?" He asked, a hand sliding up her shirt and she nodded.

Her eyes focused on his, entering his mind slowly as if taking a tour of the electrical signals in his brain until she found his thoughts. They were quite erotic, most of them involved having her pinned to something as he had his way with her, rutting deep into her while she sobbed that it was far too much to take. Logan wanted to absolutely ruin her.

A small breath left her lips as she backed out of his mind and their eyes met in a shared dark, lust-filled look. "You're gonna have to gag me." She whispered and Logan nodded in agreement, kissing her again and breathing heavily as he gave into the tempation of her. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and he held onto her thigh with one hand, rubbing his hard shaft still in his pants into her core covered only by a thin pair of panties. Y/N whined at the feeling of his girth against her clit, her nipples hardened as his mouth trailed down to her chest.

His shirt was coaxed off his back, her small hands caressed every ridge of his body as he marked her chest with tender bites and kisses. “I can smell you all damn day, craving me, wanting me to do those filthy things to you.” Logan groaned as she tugged his belt buckle loose and undid his pants.

“Do you want me that bad?” She asked, referring to his thoughts, against his mouth while his tongue fought hers, hands tearing her shirt in two which made her gasp. “Do you want me bad enough to hurt me while you take what you want?” Logan pushed her down onto the mattress by her shoulders and she grinned, biting her lip as he stared down at her with darkened eyes.

“Are you gonna stop me?” He asked and she quickly shook her head. Logan dragged his knuckles along her belly and her hip, stopping at the waistband of her panties and tearing them clean off, the flimsy lace material giving easily into him. “Good.”

Logan wasted no time in entering her, pounding into her from behind with one hand over her mouth and the other holding her down to the bed as she kept her ass up for him. Her panties were stuffed in her mouth, muffling her cries and whines as he behaved mercilessly with her. “Mm! Mm! Mm!” She whined like a hurt puppy and it only made him want to hear more.

“You like that, sweet girl? Like the way it feels?” He asked and she nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she was edging closer and closer to her release. Logan suddenly lifted her up with an arm around her waist, holding her up to his chest as he continued pumping into her. One hand clamped firmly onto her mouth and the other pressing one of her hands into her lower belly where her eyes went wide as she felt him inside her. “Do you feel me right there, baby? That’s where I belong, right here.” Logan growled into her ear as she suddenly began to shake from the intense pleasure of her orgasm. He groaned in approval, holding tightly onto her as her free hand claws at his thigh and then he emptied himself inside her with a string of swear words leaving his mouth and falling onto her shoulder.

Y/N’s a whimpering, trembling mess as he lays her down gently on the bed and she sobs when he slides out of her. Logan chuckled, pulled her panties out of her mouth, and kissed her passionately. “Thank you, Logan.” She murmur sleepily as he got dressed to go back to his room.

“My pleasure, sweet girl.” He smirked, covering her up with the blanket before he left feeling quite smug with himself.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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sceletaflores · 9 days

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couldn't help it, i had to kiss the teacher!

pair: professor!logan howlett x fem!reader wc: 3.6k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid twenties...logan is...his age), gratuitous nickname usage, public sex (classroom), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), an impromptu clitoral anatomy lesson, scent kink, hair pulling, light traces of a foot fetish (i'm literally not even sorry), nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, nat trying to sound smart, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. a/n: based off of me going to my a&p lab today and getting super bored which somehow led to thoughts about professor logan who teaches a&p…that then spiraled into this very quickly. p.s this is like a t.a!reader not a student lol

professor logan has a special way of helping you retain information...

You've been huffing and puffing for the last twenty minutes.

Logan has been blatantly ignoring you for the last twenty minutes, because that's the only way a man with enhanced hearing can ignore someone.

Blatantly.

He's been at the chalkboard since you came in a little after his last class ended, busy mapping out his lesson plan for tomorrow.

The chalk squeaks rhythmically as he writes, you tap your foot in time with it.

You're perched on top of his desk, different stacks of papers messily scattered all around you like a tornado of ungraded essays and homework assignments tore across the glossy cherry wood of it.

You glare at Logan's back harder, forcing yourself to ignore the way his muscles glide and flex beneath the thin fabric of his flannel with every move. You've got your chin resting on the palm of your hand that's propped against your knee, the other holding a red pen down by your shoe.

You sigh, long and overdramatic, for what feels like the millionth time.

Logan doesn't turn around, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. His hand hardly even slows, jotting down different tissue structures with infuriating disinterest.

You shift on his desk with a huff, dragging your eyes back to the paper in front of you. You scan over the messy handwriting and tiny diagrams littered over the page as you tap the pen in your hand against the toe of your shoe absentmindedly.

"Knock it off," Logan mutters from across the room, not looking at you as he does. It's the first thing he's said to you since you showed up.

You instantly perk up at the attention, flicking your eyes back to him.

“Knock what off?” you ask innocently, tapping the pen on your shoe harder than before. The tiny 'clack' sound it makes is sharp in the quiet of the room.

Logan finally turns, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts annoyance and amusement. “The sighin’, the tappin’, the huffin’ like you’re a broken radiator. You’ve been makin’ noise since you sat down.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unrepentant. "I’m bored."

He lets out a dry chuckle, turning back towards to board with a amused shake of his head. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

You frown, dropping the pen and sitting up straighter, as if you’ve just been handed a challenge. "You could try and help me," you suggest, gesturing to the scattered pile with a wave of your hand. "You know? Like a good professor would."

"I don't grade papers, kid. That's what you're here for." Logan shoots over his shoulder, seamlessly picking up where he left off. “Besides, I’m good with the chalkboard for now. Better company.”

“Chalk doesn’t talk back,” you grumble under your breath.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, so now you can hear me?"

Logan doesn’t bother replying, but you can see the barely there smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

You scoot forward on his desk, pushing papers out of the way so your legs can dangle over the edge. You swing your feet back and forth, just enough to disturb another pile of papers sitting nearby, watching them slide closer to the edge.

One more swing and the corner of a stack teeters precariously. You bite your lip, considering whether or not to send it tumbling just to see if that would get him to turn around again.

Logan, of course, somehow knows exactly what you’re thinking without even glancing towards you. “Don’t,” he grumbles lowly, a warning.

You freeze mid-swing, but the urge to push his buttons is too tempting. "What?" you say, all wide-eyed innocence, nudging the pile ever so slightly with your knee.

Logan lets out a deep sigh, giving you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, you know that? I doubt Hank's help nags him half as much.”

You grin, taking that as a small victory.

"I was recommended," you remind him, tone overly cheery and saccharine.

"Must've been desperate," he mutters, finally stepping away from the board and dusting chalk from his hands. Logan turns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chalkboard, giving you a look that says he’s just on the edge of being amused

You raise an eyebrow, fixing him with a blank stare. "I’ll be sure to pass that along to Professor Xavier."

Logan shakes his head, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “Yeah? Be my guest. Make sure you tell him you’re spendin’ your time testin' my patience instead of your job.”

You slump back on the desk with a groan, head tilted towards the ceiling. "It's been forever since I've taken this class," you whine, rolling your head to the left lazily. "I hardly remember any of this, how am I supposed to grade it?"

"Barely remember any of this?" he repeats back to you, brow raised in disapproval. He pushes off the chalkboard and starts to make his way towards you. His steps are slow, deliberate, like he’s sizing you up—though you know it’s mostly for show.

Mostly.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, still splayed back on your palms and kicking your feet languidly. There’s chalk dust littered over his chest and the front of his thighs, coating them in a thin layer white. Your gaze trails the path of his steps, a slow smile tugging at your lips the closer he gets.

Logan stops in front of you, his towering frame almost filling your view entirely. You’re able to look him in the eyes perched on his desk like this, the green of them is darker than normal.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes glint with a teasing challenge as he tilts his head slightly, like he’s daring you to keep going.

“You got cotton in your ears when I’m up there talking or what?” he asks, voice dipping lower than before.

Your smile widens, and you shrug, trying to keep your cool under his heavy gaze. “You know I can’t listen to you when you wear jeans that tight.”

His eyes lock onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something more dangerous, something that sends a thrill down your spine. "Maybe if you paid a little more attention," he says, voice a low rumble, "you wouldn’t need to whine so much."

You roll your eyes, even as the heat between you starts to curl in your chest. "Or maybe," you counter, leaning back a touch more and tilting your head up to meet his gaze better, "you could actually help me instead of being a complete pain in the—"

Before you can finish, Logan’s hands slam down on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours now, that barely-there smirk playing on his lips again.

You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the sharp edge of his stare cutting through your casual defiance.

“—ass,” you finally finish, voice slightly more breathless than before.

Logan just stares at you, the intense and unwavering attention you were itching for earlier makes you want to squirm in place now. His gaze is almost predatory, as if he’s taking in every flutter of your eyelashes and the quickening pace of your breath.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down.

You lean forward a little, tilting your head. "So, what’s it gonna take to get you to grade just one of these?" You pick up a paper from the pile and wave it in front of him teasingly. “I really need your help, professor.”

The word drips from your lips like a challenge, a taunt.

Logan’s eyes flicker with something dangerous, a flash of heat that tells you he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. His fingers brush against the desk right beside your thigh, close enough to feel the warmth of him but it’s still too far.

He leans down slightly, inches away from your lips. His breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting, as the tension in the air thickens.

The scent of him—woodsy and masculine—invades your senses, and you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Your pulse starts to race, a mix of excitement and a hint of challenge flashing between you.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut as you lean forward almost involuntarily.

Just as you’re about to close the gap, he pulls back, straightening up with a smug grin.

“Tell you what,” he starts, voice gone casual like he isn’t testing the very limits of your sanity. “I’ll help you.”

You open your mouth, cocky victory speech on the tip of your tongue, but Logan cuts you off.

“Not with grading,” he clarifies with a shake of his head. “It’s more like a," he takes a slow pause, like he's trying to find the right words, "personalized lesson.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse thunders in your ears. "What kind of lesson are we talking about?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but it still comes out breathless.

His hands move from the desk, gliding up your legs until they rest just above your knees, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve ending in your body.

“Logan—”

Anything you were going to say dissolves into a breathy gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you.

Your thighs clench together, arousal pooling in your panties sticky and wet. Logan's nose twitches, eyes darkening as he scents the headiness of your essence in the air.

His mouth twitches into a slow, deliberate grin as he catches the shift in your scent, the change in your body language betraying your desire.

His hands, firm yet careful, slide higher along your thighs, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. The fabric rucks up ever so slightly under his touch, exposing just a little more of you to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze.

"Real quiet now," he teases darkly, voice husky and thick with tension, his thumbs tracing small, maddening circles against your skin. "Not so mouthy anymore, huh?"

Your breath hitches, a low heat sparking in the pit of your stomach and spreading outward.

Logan's grip tightens slightly, as though he’s testing the weight of your response, the way your thighs tense beneath his hands. He looks up at you, eyes dark and gleaming with an intensity that makes it impossible to think straight.

“You talk a lot of game, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill down your spine, “but I think it’s time to show me you can learn something."

You tilt your head back, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Your body’s betraying you, hips shifting slightly forward, your legs spreading just so, inviting more of his touch—inviting him to make good on that unspoken promise that hangs between you.

Logan’s smirk deepens, dangerously close to devouring the last of your composure. "All you gotta do," he drawls, his breath hot against the inside of your thigh, "is ask for it."

His hands slide up a little more, his fingers catching on the edge of your panties. You can't help the sharp inhale that escapes you.

His challenge hangs in the air, thick and heavy, but you're past the point of hesitation. The words leave your lips before you even realize it.

"Teach me."

Logan’s grin spreads like wildfire, the kind that sparks and sets everything in its path ablaze. His eyes never leave yours, holding you captive as he flips your skirt up.

Something low and gritty tears its way from his chest at the sight of your panties, soaked fabric melded against the shape of your aching pussy. The sound echoes in the quiet room, low and primal, stirring a deep thrum of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He shoves his way between your thighs, spreading them even further to make enough room for the width of his shoulders.

"You're a smart girl," Logan says easily, leaning down to trail kisses along the skin of your inner thigh, just inches from where you really need his mouth. "You should be able to tell me what tissue this is made of."

He dips his head, trailing his nose along the soaked fabric of your cotton panties until it nudges against your clit.

"Logan, I– ah!”

A sharp slap to your thigh cuts you off, pinpricks of pleasure making you cry out as they bloom red across your skin.

“Is that what you call me?”

It takes a second to click in the haze of your mind, what he’s asking for. When it finally does, you're whole body shivers, a broken moan falling from your lips as you take in the expectant look in Logan's eyes.

Your mind whirls, but the answer tumbles from your lips like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

"Professor," you gasp, voice soft and laced with need.

Logan's grin is devilish, hands gripping your hips tight enough that you can feel the strength behind them.

"Good girl," he growls, voice thick with approval, the heat in his gaze burning you from the inside out.

You let out a soft whimper, hips instinctively tilting toward him, silently begging for more. But he doesn’t move. Instead, his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you firmly in place.

“Uh-uh," he rumbles, his mouth inches from you, but not close enough to touch. "You know how this works. You haven’t answered my question."

You can’t respond, silent as you stare down at Logan, wide-eyed as your mind races for anything to say that’ll get him to keep going.

"Come on, baby," he urges, thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin. "Just tell me somethin' smart, I'll give you what you want."

You try to focus, try to remember something—anything—about what he taught in class. But all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your thighs, the heat of his breath, the maddening nearness of his mouth.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your panties, just shy of where you need him most, and you can't help the frustrated groan that escapes you.

“What's sweet thing made of?" He nudges the soaked fabric against your clit again, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"Fuck...erectile tissue," you manage to breathe out, mind fogged as you claw for the right answer. "But it's—it's surface is covered in epithelial tissue."

Extra credit.

Logan hums, the sound low and approving.

"Very good," he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin sends a shiver of pure pleasure through you, your body arching off the desk in response.

His fingers tease along your slit, and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to spill out. Logan watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he spreads you open with his fingers, exposing the slick heat between your legs.

Your back arches off the desk with a loud moan, hands gripping the edge hard enough that your knuckles turn white with it.

“Fuck, look at that,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, sliding his index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. “This is all for me? This pretty pussy all wet for your professor?

He presses a finger against your entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip inside before pulling back, relishing the way your body instinctively arches toward him.

You shake your head, peering down at him with glassy eyes. “You were never my professor,” you shoot back breathlessly, unable to keep from pushing against him even now.

Logan hums absentmindedly, eyes glued to the space between your legs. “Lucky you,” he drawls, sinking two fingers inside you without warning.

Your head falls back with a cry, thighs tightening around his shoulders as sparks go off at the base of your spine.

“Now, tell me how you feel,” Logan prompts, his voice gravelly and filled with that dark, teasing edge. His fingers glide up, slick as they draw tantalizing circles over your clit that set your nerves ablaze.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment mixing with arousal as you wrestle with the overwhelming sensations. “I—uh,” you stammer, trying to organize your thoughts, but they slip away like sand through your fingers. “I feel–ah!…good.”

Logan lets out a chuckle. “Good, huh? Just good? You can do better than that. Don't get shy now, baby.”

His hand speeds up, the lewd noise of your slick pussy fills the room with each thrust. “What’s it feel like when I’ve got my fingers in you, hm?”

The dam breaks inside of you, all the embarrassment leaving your body as your hips start rocking down against him lightly.

“Feels so good,” you slur, head lolling to the side to watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Your fingers feel so good in me, professor.”

You’re playing with fire and you know it, but when your eyes slip down his body to find the hard imprint of his cock more than visible through his jeans, you can’t help yourself.

You slide your foot up his toned thigh until the chunky sole brushes against the tented denim.

Logan’s eyes flutter shut for just a second, his grin turning almost feral as he feels the pressure of your foot against him. His hips rock forward slightly, just enough to acknowledge your touch.

“You’re pushin’ your luck, kid,” he bites out, voice rough as gravel, but there's a thread of amusement running through it—like he’s enjoying this game just as much as you are.

You give him a slow, languid smile. "Maybe I like pushing," you breathe, dragging your foot up and down the length of him slowly.

Logan groans darkly, sliding his fingers out of you in one slick motion that makes you whine in protest. His hand moves to grip your ankle, firm but not painful, keeping you pressed against his cock.

“God, you smell so fuckin’ good,” he says quietly, the words passing through his lips like he couldn’t hold them in anymore. He brings his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan.

"Taste even better." His voice is rough, filled with desire that matches your own. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily, begging for more.

His grin widens, and finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, he gives in. Logan lowers his head, his mouth pressing against your clit in a slow, deliberate kiss that has your back arching off the desk, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you guide him closer, urging him on. His tongue flicks against your clit expertly, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin with every drag of his head. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

Your body feels like it’s been set on fire. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“I—I think I’m going to—” you stammer, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he picks up the pace, fingers moving faster.

“Tell me,” he growls, the rumble of it vibrating against your clit as he holds your gaze, plunging his fingers back inside of you. “I want to hear you say it.”

“God, Professor! Fuck, Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body trembling, ready to explode. Your pussy weeps around the stretch of his thick fingers, soaking his hand and his wrist with your wetness.

"Atta' girl," he growls, pressing his thumb over your clit to send a jolt of ecstasy through your core. "Makin' a fuckin’ mess all over my desk, just like that.”

He leans in, wrapping his mouth around your clit and sucking while his fingers keep up their relentless pace. With barely any pressure, he drags the harsh edge of his teeth over your clit and sends you tumbling over the edge, your body arching into his mouth as you come.

The sheer force of it has your whole body tensing, your foot pressing on the clothed length of his cock harder than before. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as his hips buck up against the heel of your shoe.

As you ride the waves of ecstasy, Logan’s eyes stay locked on yours, watching. Greedy eyes taking in every detail of your face, every moan and whimper that falls from your slick lips, every tremor of your body.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, heart racing, and utterly spent.

As you come down from the high, you glance at him, chest heaving with exertion.

Logan’s already looking at you, his gaze has a little more softness mixed in with the heat still simmering. He drops one last kiss to the slick skin of your thigh before pushing your foot off his lap and standing. His lips and chin glistening with your release, that cocky smirk still firmly in place as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Your eyes fall to where he’s still hard and tenting the denim of his jeans, pre-come leaking from the tip to stain the fabric darker.

“Ready for another one,” he whispers, leaning in close. His lips brush over yours, hips slotting between your thighs to grind the hard length of his cock along your sensitive pussy.

You can’t help the smug smile that takes over your face, your arms raising up to circle around his neck. Your eyes trail along the boards forgotten lesson plan over his shoulder, to the papers that were sitting on his desk scattered on the hardwood.

Your legs circle his waist, draagging him closer.

"I think so."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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storieswithvenus · 2 months

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Honeymoon anxiety - Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The fire crackles, spitting out small bits caught by the fire guard Tyler had placed in front of it an hour or so ago. you were currently sitting with your recliner up and head in your laptop.

“You know, it would be nice if you spoke to me instead of having your head in the laptop all night”, Tyler's voice gains your attention looking up towards the doorway where he is currently leaning up against, a teasing smile on his face.

“I'm sorry baby, I'm just trying to work out all the plans for our honeymoon, I’m convinced this is harder to plan than the actual wedding.” you speak for the first time in a few hours. you had been sitting researching all these different places across the world to see what would fit yours and Tyler's respected interests.

“I told you, we could just go on a solo storm chasing trip for a few weekends, then we aren’t spending as much money,” your head immediately snaps up to look at him, your eyes narrowing into a glare. “Tyler owens. I told you we are not celebrating our honeymoon by going and storm chasing. We already do that everyday, and you know damn well the gang is gonna turn around and tag along” you spit at him, he knew this was a non-negotiable issue with you.

You watch as he walks into the living room and towards the sofa where you are sitting, Tyler sits beside you and pulls you closer towards him ending with you on his lap facing him.

“I cannot wait to marry you my dear,” he leaves a gentle kiss on your lips, he can taste your vanilla lip balm which causes him to lean in again for a second taste. “I'm sorry I haven't been speaking to you, ty. I'm just so worried we won’t have everything planned and booked before the wedding.” You let your worries out to him, he watches you with the most love ever as you ramble on about the small details which were causing you anxiety. every so often you would feel him squeeze your waist so you knew he was listening to you.

Your wedding has always been made a big deal, even since you were a kid. That was your biggest dream, to marry your prince charming. Tyler had many conversations with your parents, mainly because they gave him the rundown of how you are going to act like when he does propose.

You start to fiddle with your engagement ring, playing and rubbing the small diamond in the middle of the gold ring. You had stated on your first date with Tyler that you only wear gold jewellery and have never been into silver, that was something he has taken a mental note of when you started to get serious - eventually using that to pick out the engagement ring 3 years later.

“Everything will come out perfect my love, stop worrying, we still have 7 months until the big day,” his voice immediately calms you down, his green eyes staring into yours, the love for you shown in the look he is giving you.

“We are still not having the honeymoon in tornado alley though.”

#x reader #fem reader #glen powell #glen powell x reader #twisters #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens #fluff

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chososcamgirl · 29 days

Text

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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theoldsports · 5 months

Text

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #sorry series #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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bi-bard · 2 months

Text

On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’ - Scott Imagine [Twisters]

Title: On My Line, You’re Hooked, I’m Fishin’

Pairing: Scott [Twisters] X Reader

Word Count: 3,126 words

Warning(s): argument, grabbing someone's wrist

Summary: [Somewhat inspired by "Too Easy" by Tanner Adell] When a new company rolls into town during tornado season, Tyler's team is curious. Perfect uniforms, all looking ready for picture wasn't exactly the normal look for tornado chasing. (Y/n) volunteers to be the one to gather some much-needed intel, doing whatever they need to in order to get it.

Author's Note: I have about five Twisters imagines in my drafts right now.

Listen. I'm have something cute about this guy in my drafts, but he pissed me off in this movie, so I have to get that shit out first. It's part of my process.

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

There was always a lot of energy during tornado season, but nothing beat the feelings on those first few days.

There was all this hope. This adrenaline going for something that hadn't even happened yet. A little while in, you would get an idea about how the season was going to go. The not-knowing before that was the best part. Endless possibilities and all that.

All that to explain that it felt normal for our team to be jumping off the walls like kids in a candy shop when we first all made it to Oklahoma.

Boone and Tyler were sorting out the truck. Dexter and Dani were making sure the trailer was stocked with merch and food for those who needed it. I hadn't been given a task, so I was left to pretty much my own devices. As a result, Lily was left working on her drone while I talked her ear off. She didn't seem to mind it.

I looked up over her head to see a group of white trucks and vans pulling up. Nice ones. Clean, new. I saw the logo slapped on the side.

"What in the hell is Storm Par," I asked.

"What?" Lily looked at me before immediately turning to the other vehicles. "No idea."

"Hey, Tyler!" I walked over to the truck.

"What's going on? Sugar high crashing?"

"Very funny," I replied before pointing to the white vehicles. "Who's Storm Par?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "No idea. Look like a big corporation."

A group of men started climbing out of the vehicles.

"Woah," he muttered.

"Proper science fair dudes," I commented. "Bet you twenty bucks that they have pocket protectors."

Tyler reached out and whacked my shoulder. "Be nice."

"Fine," I grumbled as he turned back to the truck.

I caught one of the men staring at me. He was tall and seemed to have a completely emotionless face. His clothes were neat, perfectly pressed. When he saw that I had noticed him, he had turned away from me, going to follow his team into the gas station.

"Want me to get intel?"

Tyler chuckled. "Intel? What year do you think it is? We can look them up tonight."

"Yeah, but I just caught one of their boys staring at me," I explained. "Let me do it; it'll kill two birds with one stone."

I heard Boone laugh from the other side of the truck. "I love the way you think!"

"Thanks, Boone."

"Alright, fine," Tyler relented. "But hurry up, we gotta get going."

"Thank you," I said. "Anyone want a drink?"

"Get me a Mountain Dew!" Boone called. I pointed at him and nodded.

"Be back in a minute!"

I walked back to the fridges along the back wall. I saw the man who had stared at me was now standing by the fridges.

I stood next to him. "Hey there."

He didn't respond, just staring straight ahead at the fridge. I had to hold in my laugh as I stepped forward to grab two Mountain Dews.

"Did Storm Par put a ban on talking to other tornado chasers," I asked. He didn't reply again. "Or are you just scared? Promise I don't bite."

"I'm not scared," he replied.

"Oh my goodness, he speaks." I placed a hand over my chest to pretend to be shocked. I chuckled at his clearly unimpressed expression before holding my hand out. "(Y/n)."

"Scott." he shook my hand before very quickly pulling it back.

"Nice to meet you, Scott," I said. "So, what exactly is Storm Par?"

"We track tornados so the data can be used for research."

"Real specific there," I chuckled at him. "What kind of research?"

He didn't respond.

"Oh, come on, I'm not gonna steal your ideas."

"I'm not worried about it."

"Are you worried that I won't understand it? I'm smarter than I look."

He let out an amused huff before grabbing a water and starting to walk to the checkout. I followed him.

"Maybe you could explain it to me later then," I suggested, hopping in front of him just before he got in line. I smiled at his blank look. "Tonight. There's a bar not too far from here, right next to a hotel that our crew's staying at; I'll buy you a drink."

I watched as his eyes scanned me for a moment. It looked like he was trying to figure out whether or not I was tricking him. I was almost hurt. I mean, I was tricking him, but not in the way that he was assuming.

I turned around to pay for my drinks, so I could step out of the way.

"Come on," I pushed before rattling off the name of the bar. "Meet me there tonight. One drink. If I'm that bad of company, then you can leave and I won't complain once. I'll even try to stay out of your hair during the chases."

Scott took a deep breath. "Fine."

"Yes," I cheered out of mostly fake excitement. "You won't regret this."

"I hope not."

I reached out and fiddled with a button on his white shirt. Far too perfect to be out there chasing storms. "Can't wait to see how well your perfect uniforms last out there."

I stepped back, not missing how his eyes followed my hand.

"See you later, Fancy Pants!" I waved as I started running back out to Tyler's truck.

"How'd it go," Tyler asked as I hopped into the passenger seat.

"Didn't get much," I admitted, handing Boone his drink before buckling up. "But I did get him to say yes to meeting me for a drink later."

"Atta kid!" Boone clapped his hand over my shoulder.

"I know, I know, a miracle worker," I replied. "Ready to get out there?"

"Absolutely," Tyler said.

The rest of the day went so much faster than it had any right to.

We saw Storm Par a lot. It took everything in me to not be a bit of a dick when we passed them. I did wave once when I spotted Scott in the passenger seat of one of the trucks. He nodded at me in an awkward greeting, which led to him getting a bit of a weird look from the man who was driving.

"What are you doing?" Tyler laughed as I relaxed back into my seat.

"Playing with the food," Boone answered before I could, causing me to laugh loudly.

"I was gonna say 'being friendly', but that's better," I said.

Maybe that was the excitement of it all messing with my head, but it felt like it took a matter of minutes before we found ourselves driving to the bar that I had told Scott to meet me at.

I walked in ahead of the group, trying to keep from laughing at the comments that Boone was shouting over my shoulder.

I saw some of the other guys from Storm Par at a table together. At the actual bar was Scott. He looked a bit tense, almost disheartened. I started to wonder just how long he had been there. Had I kept him waiting? Did he think that I stood him up? Was that the face of stubbornness just before calling the night a bust and going back to wherever he was staying?

I guess it didn't matter now. I couldn't back out.

"Fancy pants!" I called before walking over quickly. He seemed startled as I plopped onto the barstool next to him. "How was your day?"

"You should know, you were there for most of it," he replied.

"Was that a joke or are you just annoyed with me," I asked.

"Guess you'll have to figure it out." he shrugged. I saw a small grin form as he took a sip of his drink.

I let out a scoff. "Wow, Fancy Pants is bold now. A couple of sips is all it took?"

Scott rolled his eyes. The bartender walked over to us. I just asked for the same of whatever Scott had been drinking before focusing back on the conversation.

"The uniform held up well, I see." I pulled lightly at one of the white sleeves of his shirt. "Research must not be as hands-on as I thought it was."

"We do the same thing your crew does," he argued.

"With a bigger paycheck, I'm sure," I replied.

"Our work is a bit more important."

"And what work is that?"

"Why don't you tell me about yours first?" he smirked at me before taking another sip of his drink.

He thought it was clever. I could tell. Avoid my question by focusing the attention back on me. In any other situation, it would have screwed me out of the information that I needed.

But in this one... it was a mistake.

Here's the thing: I could talk. I could go on and on for hours about absolute nonsense. I could go from story to story without taking a breath.

And I did.

I told him about all the work that we had done to help people. About digging through the destroyed debris to try and find some pieces of people's lives. About making bundles of food. Then, I just started telling stories about every funny or weird moment that had happened since I had joined Tyler's crew.

The time that I burned served me well. Scott relaxed. Whether that was a result of his drink or simply because I was earning his trust was a mystery to me. I didn't bother focusing on which it was.

"Alright, alright," I said. "That's enough about what I do. Tell me about Storm Par."

"I told you; we collect data for future tornado research," Scott replied.

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes. "I mean, not to be rude, but I've seen your team. You're all a bit young to be jumping into research all on your own. And Storm Par doesn't sound like a company attached to a college."

"No, no, we're a private company," he explained. "We've had some luck finding a few really interested investors."

"Like...?"

"The biggest one is Marshall Riggs. He's a big-name real estate guy."

I couldn't quite put the pieces together at the time, but I felt a pit in my stomach. Unease that formed all too fast. "What would a real estate guy want with tornado research?"

"He's helping people," Scott's response felt like an attempt to twist an image that hadn't even been made yet. "He uses it to find people that have lost their homes and businesses and such and he buys them. It allows those people to move forward with their lives without having to wait for insurance to make a call on it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Doesn't a disaster usually force the prices down for land?"

"I mean, it's lower than the normal price. It's not like he's buying this land up for five dollars and a pack of gum."

"What other aid does Storm Par offer them then, if they're getting rid of their homes and land?"

"Our investors focus funds on the research."

"So no?"

"So we're focused on the bigger picture. More long-term consequences."

I took the subtlest deep breath that I could. "I see."

I looked down at my watch.

"Oh, look at that, it's a lot later than I thought," I said, completely lying through my teeth. "We have to head out early in the morning."

I handed my card to the bartender, muttering for him to just cover both of our drinks.

"I can walk you out," Scott replied.

"Yeah, sure, okay," I mumbled, scribbling down a tip and putting my card away.

I followed Scott outside, letting him hold the door open. I wanted to seem less tense than I was. I was doubting how well it was working, but all I needed was for it to be good enough to get out of there without being questioned, so who really cares?

We made it outside. I was about to insist that we go our separate ways for the night, but he cut me off.

"You were right," Scott said. "Didn't regret that."

"Oh, good," I replied. I may have regretted it.

There was a long pause. Scott went to step closer to me. I almost scrambled back before he could, forcing out a chuckle.

"Well, I should go." I shrugged, continuing to walk backward before eventually turning around and just calling to him over my shoulder. "Have a good night. Stay safe. See you around, fancy pants!"

A few minutes later, I was knocking on Tyler's door like I was a landlord looking for late rent.

"(Y/n), what the hell are you doing," he asked as he yanked the door open. "You're gonna piss off somebody."

"I'm already a bit pissed, so maybe it'll do some good to share the suffering," I replied before shoving my way past him. "I have answers."

"About Storm Par?"

"No about what Scott likes to do on a nice summer day- Yes about Storm Par!"

"You are grumpy when it's late." he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Shut up," I slapped his shoulder. "I found out about Storm Par's funding."

"Okay..."

"So, yes, they do research and track the storms and report that data back to their investors," I explained. "The problem is that their major investor is named Marshall Riggs, who has apparently made quite a name for himself in real estate."

"What would he want with it?"

"Well, he's going to the places impacted by the storms and buying up land from people who lose their homes and businesses and stuff. He's apparently spinning some story that he's allowing people to move forward with their lives, but come on, he's just using this information to get his hands on cheap land."

"Do you know what he's doing with the land?"

"I didn't ask."

"Okay..."

"Storm Par is giving this man power to do some real harm here."

"I know, I know."

"So, what are we gonna do," I asked, looking at Tyler again.

"I... I don't know," he replied, running his hand over his face.

"We can't just let him keep doing this!"

"(Y/n)," he sighed. "I don't even know if this guy is doing something that's technically illegal-"

"It's still wrong!" I snapped at him.

"I know!"

I froze.

"But whatever we do won't stop him. He'll keep preying on desperate people and whatever we say won't change what impact he might have on them. They're desperate, they think they're alone."

"So we just do nothing?"

"No." Tyler shook his head. "What we can do is continue helping people."

I nodded. "I just... I feel like there's just so much more that we could do."

"In a perfect world, we would be able to speak out and it would stop him." he shrugged. "It would make him give up and walk off with his tail between his legs. But we can't. We just have to do what we can."

I took a deep breath. Tyler pulled me into a hug.

"We're doing good work. And we'll only earn more outreach. We'll continue to do better."

I stepped back. "I'm still going to be an asshole tomorrow."

"Just don't end up dead or in jail."

"I'll do my best," I shrugged before going to walk out. "Good night!"

"Night!" he called out after me.

I was hoping that the next morning would have been mostly calm. That we would get out into the field before Storm Par or vice versa. Something to keep me from having to face Scott for just a few more hours.

I was walking back to the truck after picking up some breakfast. I was occupied with my own thoughts. I was still upset. I was still fighting the urge to go scream from the rooftops about Marshall Riggs and the bullshit he was doing.

"(Y/n)!"

I considered sprinting to the truck when I heard Scott say my name. I just wasn't feeling mean enough to do that... yet.

"Scott," I said as I turned around. "How are ya?"

"Good, good, what about you?"

"I'm fine, just busy," I replied, going to step away. "Heading out early and all."

Scott stepped forward. "I was hoping to ask if you wanted to meet again tonight. Maybe dinner instead of a drink."

"I... I don't think that'd be a good idea."

His face fell. "Oh... why?"

"I just don't think we clicked like I thought we would." the goal was to maintain the peace until the end of the season. "But hey, we tried it, that's what matters. I'll... I'll see you out there."

"Did I... Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope, you were just fine. Just didn't work."

I turned to walk away but was stopped when Scott grabbed my wrist. "I don't believe that."

I yanked my arm from him. "Don't ever fucking grab me again."

"I just want the truth."

"I told you the truth." I turned away again.

I was grabbed again. "Just wait-"

I pulled my arm away and shoved him backward. "I fucking warned you to not grab me like that again."

He seemed to still be reeling from the fact that I shoved him.

"You want the truth? Fine," I shrugged. "I find your company and what it stands for to be completely despicable. I think it's disgusting that y'all would accept money to help a man take advantage of innocent people. I think it's disgusting that you don't seem to give a damn about it. If I could tear your company down, I would, but in reality, my words would never stop you or your damn investors. And I hope that one day you wake up, look in the mirror, and feel the crushing pain of all those that you helped that man manipulate."

Scott stepped forward, a response clearly ready, but he looked over my shoulder and froze.

"(Y/n), you good?" I heard Tyler's voice call over to me.

"Yeah," I yelled over my shoulder. "Just having a quick chat!"

I stepped away again, walking as quickly as I could to make it over to him and the rest of the crew.

"Didn't end up in jail," I offered, trying to look at the bright side.

"I almost did," he muttered. "Get in the truck."

I did a little salute to him before going around to the passenger seat. I saw Tyler stare down Scott for a few more seconds before hopping in the driver's seat.

Maybe there was some argument to be made about the benefits of killing someone with kindness. But that just wasn't how I operated. And I think I'm better off that way.

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 months

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

#🌸 // success!#🎫 // tyler owens #🎫 // tyler #🎟 // twisters #twisters x male reader #twisters x reader #tyler owens x male reader #tyler owens x reader #💞 // darlings #🌂 // failure #🤬 // swearshirt

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.

Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”

Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving

Words: 4.8k

“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”

The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either.

“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”

Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.

You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.

“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.

You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.

When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten.

As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.”

Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week.

“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself.

“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”

“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.”

Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows.

“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”

“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him.

“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”

Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze.

Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”

“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”

Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”

“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat.

“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”

You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse.

“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”

This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.

“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again.

“Sweetheart, I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”

Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with.

“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe.

“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”

Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react.

“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car.

You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week.

“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all.

The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again.

Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal.

“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out.

Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows.

You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink.

You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”

“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?

“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”

“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him.

“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”

You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”

His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting.

You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get.

“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”

Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”

“And where can I find one?”

His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind.

“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”

You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.

“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”

Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.

“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door.

Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt.

“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.

“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave.

You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?

The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more.

As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.

“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”

As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.

“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”

You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.

“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.

You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.

“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.

“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence.

He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”

Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend.

Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch.

“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”

“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth.

“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”

The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”

Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again.

He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.

The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.

“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.

He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.

“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”

Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”

You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”

A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”

That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything.

“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.

“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing.

“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”

Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue.

“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.

“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”

You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom.

“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”

Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

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mcflymemes · 6 months

Text

PROMPTS FROM LIFE IS STRANGE, SEASON 1 * assorted dialogue, suggested by ismelodrama, adjust as necessary

everything is a picture waiting for be taken.

you're just jealous of me because i actually do the things you can't.

are you hiding something?

i'm sick of your disrespect. tell me the truth!

i don't want to fight with you anymore. i don't want to fight with anyone anymore.

i was eating those beans!

how the hell did you know about that photo?

always take the shot. my number one rule of photography.

you just don't listen, do you?

there's something weird going on with you.

you've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict.

after this week, you are certainly not a little kid anymore.

not now. i'm contemplating shit.

are you fucking kidding me? this is major bullshit!

i didn't have all the evidence at the time.

we all make decisions we regret.

i'm not gonna make any excuses for my behavior.

i'd put stephen hawking against picasso any day.

it sucks to be dragged into the spotlight.

nobody believes me anyway.

you're exactly the kind of soldier i'd want by my side in a war.

why the hell not?

i almost asked you to hang out.

you should have asked me.

maybe we're too much alike.

i don't believe anything you say. you're full of shit.

eat a dick, [name].

i'll be in the tardis getting my delorean ready.

since you're the mysterious superhero... i'll be your faithful chauffeur and companion.

you don't know who the fuck i am or who you're messing around with.

where'd you get that? what are you doing? come on, put that thing down!

don't ever tell me what to do! i'm so sick of people trying to control me!

so you can't help me?

i told you before that i'll always believe you.

i may be a pest but... i'm a good listener.

you're the bravest person i've ever known.

for every action, there's a reaction.

i'm trying. but you have to understand my position.

i know i can be a pain in the ass... and you've always treated me like a person, not a beta nerd.

why do you want all your friends to die?

oh i see. i'm not important to you anymore.

nobody lectures me. everybody tries though.

do not analyze me! i pay people for that.

hey, that's total slander!

you don't know shit about my father, or me.

you're all fucked!

everybody hates me.

[name]... it's me. i just wanted to say i'm sorry.

i truly am sorry for being such a bastard.

you would have been cool to hang out with.

you might as well choose me.

i'm not perfect, okay?

you have talent, [name].

you don't have to push people out of your way.

thanks for admitting again that i have some talent.

do you think it's, like, fate we're not supposed to be friends?

nobody says we have to be friends.

everybody lies. no exceptions.

i came for all of you.

i'm in a nightmare and i can't wake up.

no wonder they call it a "web." nothing can ever get out.

i wish i could go back in time and erase everything.

just tell me you do have the photograph.

now shut up and listen.

i'm not a real scientist.

i was just happy just being your friend.

[name], i'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

i don't think i can concentrate on going out to the movies.

everybody pretends to care until they don't.

even angels need angels, [name].

i might be naive, but i feel their struggle.

why did you stop me from jumping?

this shit pit has taken everyone i've ever loved.

when a door closes, a window opens... or something like that.

i keep going back in time.

how could there be a more important moment in history?

thank you for trusting me.

hey... be careful out there.

what kind of friend are you?

you never understood me, or what happened to me.

i'll always be alone, thanks to you.

just in case we don't get out of this...

i'm going to make the right choices from now on.

i've been feeling like this might be actually the end of the world.

i hate to say that i'm glad to see you, but i'm glad to see you.

i wish i could stay in this moment forever... but then it wouldn't be a moment.

if that tornado came right now, i would just sit here and watch for a while.

i just feel like escaping.

i have total faith that you'll do the right thing when the time comes.

with great power comes great bullshit.

am i pushing myself too hard?

you like to hurt people, huh?

i'm glad you decided to escort me.

i know this is a bad time, but can i get one picture?

of course i believe you. you're the most amazing person i've ever met, and i'm glad you trust me.

i don't have a fucking clue what's going on.

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twistersobsessed · 23 days

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This is my first request on tumblr so sorry if it doesn’t make sense but could you do a Boone x Tyler’s sister reader where they’ve known eachother for awhile being that Tyler and him are childhood friends and Tyler’s super overprotective of her, and her and Boone are secretly dating and Tyler finds out. Maybe Boone comforts her after a tornado or something. I love your twisters stuff.

My Brother’s Best Friend | Boone x Reader

A/N: Combined this idea with another ask that was similar.

Tyler was overprotective, but he was also oblivious. That was probably how you and Boone had gotten away with it for so long.

Boone was Tyler’s childhood best friend, and when you were a kid you had a thing for him. He never admitted it, but he had a thing for you too.

When you were adults and Tyler formed the Wranglers, you and Boone began dating. Everyone else on the team knew, but they all kept quiet about it.

But the viewers had started picking up on it lately and you knew it was only a matter of time before Tyler put two and two together.

A knock sounded at your door. You groaned, rolling out of bed to open the door. As soon as you opened it you were being ushered back inside by Boone, who shut the door behind him. He wrapped you up in his arms and began assaulting you with kisses.

You squirmed in his hold, whining, “Boone, I just woke up.”

“G’morning, baby,” Boone cooed.

“Good morning,” you giggled as he attacked your neck with bites. He only nipped so that he wouldn’t leave marks. Tyler would notice and grill you to death about it.

“Seriously, baby, I have to get ready,” you laughed. Boone pouted but let you go, following you around the room like a puppy. You changed in front of him and he stuttered over his words as he rambled about the new camera he’d gotten.

“Alright,” you said, once you were dressed and ready. “Let’s go.”

Boone kissed you one final time before you both left the motel room and went to join the others.

It was supposed to be a normal day.

By 4:00, you were all rushing into the town of El Reno to save as many people as you could from the EF5 hurtling towards them.

Your heart dropped when the storm shelters were full. Someone suggested the movie theater, you didn’t know who in the chaos, and suddenly Boone was pulling you along and ushering other people towards the building.

In the theater, Javi and Tyler checked for a basement and found none. You noticed Kate had a look in her eyes. She turned without saying anything to anyone and you followed her. She went outside, to Tyler’s truck, and you knew what she was about to do.

You ran after her and jumped in the passenger seat.

“(Name),” Kate started. “I’m not letting you go alone,” you cut her off with finality. Kate squeezed your hand before slamming on the gas.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up as you turned towards the tornado head-on.

Kate stopped the truck right in front of the monster and deployed the drills into the ground, securing the truck.

You both waited, holding hands, as the tornado consumed you. “Now,” Kate said, hitting the button to deploy the barrels. Your heart dropped when nothing happened. “No, no, come on,” Kate muttered, panicked.

Finally, the lids popped open and you both breathed a sigh of relief. That relief didn’t last long. The truck began to groan and creak. Kate put the hand that wasn’t holding yours on her lap and you mirrored her. You looked at one another one more time.

Pain was the first thing you felt. “(Name)!” Your eyelids fluttered open. You were still in the truck, but upside down, held to your seat only by your harness. Your head hurt and you could feel something wet on the side of your face so you could only imagine you had a head injury.

Looking over at Kate, she did too, but it wasn’t very deep. “Can you move? You hit your head pretty bad.”

You stretched your limbs to the best of your ability.

“Yeah, yeah, I can move.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Kate’s window was completely gone. She undid her harness and ungracefully fell from her seat. She began to crawl through the open window. Suddenly you could hear other voices, and someone pulled Kate all the way out of the truck.

You unbuckled your harness and fell, very mindful of your head. It took you a moment to collect yourself enough to move. You sluggishly crawled towards the window. You noticed there were more voices outside now, but everything was kind of fuzzy so you couldn’t tell who’s they were.

You reached the window and stuck your arm out, readying to drag yourself out, but someone grabs your arm. You reach out your other arm and someone else takes it, and they drag you as carefully as they can out of the truck.

Your saviors were Boone and Tyler. Boone pulled you into his chest and held you, sitting and cradling you like a baby. “(Name), thank fuck, you’re okay,” Tyler cried. He’d started crying as soon as he and Javi had pulled Kate out the truck.

“Never do that to me again,” Boone whispered. You closed your eyes, feeling dizzy but safe. “No, baby, open your eyes, you gotta stay awake for me, okay?”

Neither of you noticed Tyler watching you both closely, putting the pieces together.

“Let’s get you guys to the hospital to get patched up,” Dexter said. Tyler helped Kate up and Boone helped you up. You swayed on your feet slightly, and Boone immediately scooped you up to carry you. “Boone, you don’t have to–” “Shush.”

Tyler side-eyed you.

Boone carried you all the way back to the car.

At the hospital, you ended up passing out and getting stitches. You were thankful they did the stitches while you were unconscious. The hospital checked you in for the night to monitor you for any signs of severe head trauma.

You woke up to voices around nine that night. You kept your eyes closed and listened, identifying the voices as Boone’s and Tyler’s.

“I’m offended you thought I was that stupid, Boone,” Tyler said.

“Tyler, listen, I know I should have told you or hell, even asked you, but it just happened and we didn’t want to upset you with it,” Boone replied.

“I’m more upset you hid it from me.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

You opened your eyes. “Blame me, Tyler.”

They both turned to you with wide eyes, and were at your sides in an instant. Boone cradled your face, Tyler grabbed your hand.

“You’re awake!” Boone exclaimed, relieved.

You smiled at him before turning your attention to Tyler. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, Ty. I thought you’d have a problem with it and things were going so well we just didn’t want anything to rock the boat.”

Tyler sighed. “I don’t like seeing you date anyone but I guess if you have to date someone I’m happy it’s my best friend.”

Boone perked up. “You know I’ll treat her right, Ty.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ya’ll have my blessing or whatever.”

You relaxed in the bed, glad there were no more secrets between you and your brother and glad that you didn’t have to hide with Boone anymore.

“I love you guys.”

#boone twisters #boone x reader #dani twisters #lily twisters #scott twisters #twisters #addy twisters #jeb twisters #kate twisters #scott miller #storm par #dexter twisters #javi twisters #tyler twisters #tyler owens #tornado

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bomber-grl · 1 year

Text

Date night

10:00 P.M

You run as fast as you can, leaping off buildings and almost slipping on the fast falling snow. You know you can’t keep this up forever, and you know, one wrong move, and it’s game over.

Robin is quick on your heels and with the cold, almost burning air that hits across your face and how difficult it is to breathe in, you’re sure you’ll get caught in no time.

Finally you stop and slide across one of the rooftops of what you can only assume is an apartment building.

“Hey Robin, I know we’re like arch enemies or whatever but I’m running a little late to my date so how about we make this quick?”

Robin usually loves to be your complete opposite, however to your surprise he says “I agree” and goes to kick you. If it weren’t for your quick reaction time by using your fore arms to shield yourself you know you would’ve been toast, still it might leave a bruise.

“What’s with the sudden compliance? Don’t tell me you’re already falling for my charms? You ask this feigning surprise.

“Don’t kid yourself, if anything your best feature is your fighting. He goes to use his spear but you counter with your own.

“Oh? So you admit I’m good?” You can see the disgust spread across his face and you take this opportunity to slash him across the face with your dagger, only that you barely managed to knick him in the chin.

He staggers back but is quick to recover, he pushes against you and pins you down. “I honestly can’t help but wonder why you care much, it’s almost like you’re falling for me.”

With your current position with your back against the wall and how you’re pinned up by him, you can’t pass the opportunity. “You’re right Robin, I think I really am falling for you.”

he lets you go with disgust blatant on his face but when you smirk he realizes this was all a ploy. With the golden opportunity to escape you take a swan dive off the building, the only imagine is of him peaking over the ledge watching you plummet into the darkness of the cold dark night.

11:30 P.M

You practically barge into the small cozy diners front doors, the atmosphere very much contrasting that of the windy coldness outside. You quickly spot Damian and make your way over to him where’s he’s seated, setting your things down and taking a seat, still panting.

“Finally, I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it, that not really a good impression to make, especially on the first date [l/n]” he teases.

You initially met Damian while at Gotham academy and while he wasn’t what you’d describe as a ray of sunshine, he was still amazing. He always seemed like an untouchable guy and you were so late to a once in a life time date that others would kill for, all because of that Robin!

“I know I know, I’m so sorry Damian!!” You take a seat, fixing your disheveled clothes and patting down your hair. “What’s with you? You seem like you got hit with a tornado or something?” He smiles.

“Sorry!! I uhh fell asleep while reading a book so I was rushing!” You give an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just teasing, I barely got here myself.”

“What???” You ask pouting. “Sorry sorry, I was just busy with useless rich people things, as you like to put it.” He says this obviously referring to that once time where you told him rich people don’t do anything.

“Hey! No fair!” Before the two of you could continue your discussion a waitress came up to your table and began taking your orders.

After the waitress left, you started feeling the diners warmth was a little too warm, especially with your large jacket. You took off your jacket and set it aside, rolling up your long sleeve shirt.

You were about to tell Damian something random that came to mind before you noticed something. On Damian’s chin there was a faint scratch, almost like the one you gave Robi-

No no no, no way, there’s just no way Damian could be robin. Damian is incredible, he’s so nice to be around, and gosh is he hot.

Not that Robin isn’t

What the hell were you thinking-

You suddenly feel Damian’s fingers glide across your fore arm. “What happened?” He asks as he looks up at you expectantly.

“Huh?” You look down and low and behold the bruise that Robin gave you with his kick. Damn you knew it was gonna bruise.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just fell and landed on my fore arms.” You add a couple nervous laughs and hope Damian doesn’t notice.

Soon enough your orders are served but slowly but surely more signs are showing that Damian is Robin. Soon enough it gets late and that’s when you decided to make your move.

“Look ro-Damian, I really need to get going so-“ and with that you practically bolt to the door, however as your hand lands on the handle you feel a hand rest on your shoulder.

You slowly turn around, however before you can react you hear one sentence that makes you feel chills run down your spine.

“Are you [v/n]?”

Part 2?

V/n: villian name, l/n: last name

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madxyy · 1 year

Text

anything for munson - eddie munson x fem!reader

| summary: you try to take care of a drunk eddie munson

| warnings: smut-ish, use of y/n once, mention of drinking, eddie being a menace even when he is drunk, friends to lovers, dry humping, kissing, pet names, a little bit of steve x reader, use of she/her, a lil fluff, flirting?

a/n: help.

You told him. No, you warned him. Damn you for giving in and going with him to this stupid party that you didn’t even want to go to in the first place, but dear-old-you loved him too much. All you wanted to do was spend the saturday night in his trailer, learning how to play dnd while the bad horror movies you both picked out roared in the background, glances—that held so much more than a glance—shared across the room, him offering you weed while you declined him but thank him for offering it to you anyways, which then leads him to respond with a dramatic knife to the heart and sad puppy dog eyes that you love oh-so-much.

But no, now you’re stuck dragging drunk Eddie to his room while one of your arms is circled around his waist and the other one holding his hand that is resting on your shoulder.

Damn Steve for challenging him to a keg stand, steve was already 4 shots in when he stumbled in your conversation, basically headlocking him, “hey munson,” he slurred “I bet I can beat your cult-loving-freak ass to a keg stand, what’d you say?” eddie craned his neck to steve, a sly smirk slowly creeping its way onto his lips “alright pretty boy, what do I get in return?” he scoffs, “you gotta be kidding me munson, you are in MY house, drinking MY beer, eating MY snacks, lounging around in MY kitchen while also getting the chance to flirt with y/n, thanks to me if I must say, so you basically got a whole package deal” you and eddie both tensed up as a tinge of pink overtakes both your faces

“i’m not flirting harrington that’s just my natural charm” he says humorously, steve scoffs

“yeah sure, and I have a successful love life”

“still as charming as ever steve even when you’re drunk,”

His eyes darted to yours–a mischievous look behind those hazel eyes–as he looked at you up and down, slowly walking up towards you “mm only for you baby” he winks “oh well...in that case, let’s take this party upstairs shall we?” giving him a sly smirk. Eddie just watches you two, jaw clenched, eyes set on the way steve is leaning towards you, hands on his chest while you bodaciously bat your eyelashes at him, the way his lips are bitten between his teeth just by looking at you. He knows you and steve always joke around like this and that nothing will ever happen but he can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, even though you are a free woman and can date whoever you want, he just can't help seeing you with anybody else. As soon as steve puts a hand on your waist, Eddie puts a hand on his chest, pushing him off just a little bit rough then he was meaning to, “alright harrington, let’s go” he said in a dark tone, steve gaze switches to you from eddie, blinking at him, “wait wait so just to be clear you know you are getting absolutely nothing in return, right?.”

He glances back behind you “Damn babe, did a tornado enter my humble abode” he says while dramatically putting a hand towards himself to indicate ‘moi?.’ You pushed down the way the nickname made a blush crept onto your cheeks. “No munson, that would be you and your own drunken recklessness” he snorts.

You let go of his hand and open his bedroom door, gently laying him on his side. You get up to get a trash can to put on the side of the bed but a hand stops you midway “where you goin’ princess?” he says looking up at you with a lopsided smile. “just going to get a trash can and a cold rag eds” he stares up at you with the most starstruck expression like he can’t believe someone wants to actually take care of him. It pains you. After beats of silence you clear your throat, he sighs “okay”. He reluctantly lets go of your hand, letting the touch of each other's hands linger “I’ll be back” you offer him a soft reassuring smile.

After you come back and put the trash can on the side of his bed you ask him to hold the rag on his head while you undress him. As you start taking off his shoes and pants “jeez take me on a date first sweetheart” you ignore him as you continue to slide his black pants down his legs.

“Shut up munson, do you want to be sweating balls through the night?”, he gives you a pout that is just too cute, you just want to kiss it off him.

“Exactly”

You put the sheets over him and grab the cold rug from his limp hand “Thank god, my hand was exhausted!” you shake your head while giggling. Always one for the dramatics. “Oh no! We cannot let Eddie THE Banished hands go limp, we must save the hand doctor before it’s too late!” he gives you a look “har har har, very funny sweetheart” pride takes over you as you smirk down towards him. You realized, you never REALLY got to observe his features up close like the way his eyes crinkle when he gives you a slight smile, how his eyes are usually a dark shade of brown but right now the lamp on his nightstand is giving them a beautiful hue of caramel, the way his nose is so perfectly curve “Y’know you are very beautiful sweetheart” wait. Shaking your head to get out of your own thoughts, you nervously chuckled. “Eddie, you're drunk.” He rolls his eyes

“No I mean it, sober and not sober,” softly cupping your cheeks,

“you are so beautiful. Cross my heart”, you inhale sharply.

You froze, you couldn't say anything, your mouth was opening and closing but no words were coming out. He laughs. HE LAUGHS?!?!

“Sweet heart calm down, i’m pretty sure you get told that all the time” he said it so casually it astonished you. The only time someone has ever called you pretty was one of your family members, especially when you were little. The room all of a sudden turned silent. Oh. Oh shit. Realization quickly dawned on him as his eyes bulged out of his head while millions of thoughts raced through his head, ‘people are out of their goddamn mind for not telling you every single day how beautiful you are’, ‘what?!?! who? when? where? and most importantly why?, ’screw them all’, ’how can they not??’. He composed himself and slowly sat up “Well..” clearing his throat as he got closer to you. He looked up at you under his lashes then to your lips, god your lips. He didn’t know he was subconsciously licking his “they should.” You inhaled sharply. All of a sudden you’re aware of how close you two are “Eddie what..” he was still staring at your lips like he was in a trance and couldn’t escape no matter what you did, you even scooted back a little but that just made him scoot closer to you “Eds come o-” you were cut off by a pair of soft lips that made you gasp which to eddie, gave him access to slip his tongue in. You let out a whimper and god eddie swears it was the most beautiful noise he has ever heard. Embarrassed, you hastily disconnect your lips from his, “Eddie, oh my god i'm sorry” you both stare at each other with swollen lips and flushed cheeks “No baby, don’t apologize that was the hottest shit i’ve ever heard” he said breathlessly, before you can utter a response, his lips were on yours again, except this time more aggressive, more passionate, less gentle.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. It was messy, everything about this was messy, sloppy, hands everywhere. His hand was gripping the nape of your neck while the other one was situated on your waist slowly making its way down your thigh. Your arms looped around his head. “Baby” he murmurs “you don’t know how long i've been wanting to do this” you made a sound in the back of your throat as a sign of acknowledgement and nodded. He smiled into the kiss. His thumbs were rubbing back and forth on your thighs, making you subconsciously open them up wider. You started rubbing yourself on his thigh, back and forward, back and forward, until something made you freeze. Something hard touched the side of your thigh. oh Oh? OH You looked up at him breathlessly, guilt automatically taking over-shit-as much as you wanted this to happen, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Eddie holy shit. We really shouldn't have done this. I'm so sorry, i’m supposed to be taking care of you, oh my god, i'm so sorry” you say hastily. He understands, he really does but he can’t help it, you are so captivating that all he can do is smile at you with admiration “I mean…” he says dragging the ‘e.’ “technically you are taking care of me just in a…..unique way.” he smirks, this cocky son of a bitch. You rolled your eyes and giggled as you hit him on the chest “Eds i’m serious” you whispered “I want to do this the right way, when you’re sober” he gently strokes your cheekbones “I understand sweetheart” You sigh. He connects his forehead with yours. After moments of silence “Do you want to go on a date with me?” asked in the most gentle tone you have ever heard, like the question was made of glass. He looked up at you with a hopeful expression -- like a little kid waiting in line to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas – which you couldn’t say no to “Of course eds” he smiles up at you with lovesick eyes, before anything else “but we’ll talk more about this in the morning, I don’t think right now is the right time” you say giving him a gentle smile.

He exhales deeply but then nods because you’re right. He is sober for the most part but still a little bit drunk and not in the right mind space. You gently get off him and lay down beside him. Eddies turns to you

“thanks for taking care of me”

you smile “i’ll always take care of you munson.”

His smile extends “goodnight sweetheart”,

you were about to say goodnight until you glanced behind his shoulder and caught the sight of something. Confusion settles in him as you turn him to face the other side of the bed “what are you doing babe” you blinked up at the set of curls facing you, “making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit munson, I put that trash can there for a reason.” The back of his head starts moving as he shakes his head “Damn baby, are you sure that’s the reason? Or Is it because you can’t handle looking at this beautiful, gorgeous, sexy face” rolling your eyes “can it munson or i’ll suffocate you in your sleep” slightly turning his head over his shoulder “I mean I have other ideas of what you can suffocate me with” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice “OH MY GOD” you say as you hit him with a pillow “eddie just go to sleep” he just keep on giggling like it was such a knee slapper. You hit on the arm, “okay okay” he says breathlessly

“i’ll go to sleep, just for you princess”

“good.”

Now he’s the one that can hear the smirk in your voice and all he can do is shake his head as he turns back to the other side of the bed. After a few seconds you scoot closer to his back. Hands cautiously circling around his waist “Is this alright?” you asked softly. He chuckled “Of course” he whispers as his hands engulfs the one holding his waist. “Goodnight eddie”, smiling to himself, “goodnight sweetheart.”

Maybe going to the party was worth it.

#stranger things fanfic #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #joeseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #st4 #hellfire club #eddie munson smut

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onepiecepetalfanfics089 · 1 year

Text

Can I request something? With Yan!ASL trio Maybe the reader (fem) is Luffy's bff (also same age as him), and Ace and Sabo always had a crush on her? Canon timeline, but Ace survives marineford with Sabo's help (Sabo gets his memory back early). So something with the survives marineford with Sabo's help (Sabo gets his memory back.) Platonic ofc

Possessive~..

As the wind blew, you sighed softly. The sound of trees rustling filled your ears and you closed your eyes.

So many memories of the four of you, Sabo, Ace, Luffy and you spun through your head line a tornado.

To think that they had to endure that..that hell of an experience made your stomach twist, You honestly did care for them so so much because they were like brothers to you! To think about the suffering all three of them went through honestly broke your heart..but you did feel like it didn’t excuse their recent behavior that was…odd to say the least.

It was nothing much really..they were just super clingy and a bit overbearing with you now that everyone’s back together and at first you understood but something felt off, strange even.

Every single time you looked into each of their eyes you couldn’t help but wonder, what was going on inside their head? What were they thinking?? Was it memories?..what kind?..was it them?

Was it you?..

Hell, it probably was, maybe that’s why they were just so clingy with you, always fighting who you should pay attention to or talk to. Even going as far as to pull you away from ANYONE that wasn’t them.

You were fed up, but what could you do?..exactly. Nothing.

Leaning your head back for a bit you looked up at the sky and sighed softly, standing up and preparing yourself for the night you were about to experience.

Whitebeard, Luffy and even the revolutionaries decided to throw a huge party to celebrate everyone for just being here. To you, it was sweet and a exciting idea, well at least if you would even get to have any fun there. You’ll probably just be stuck with them the whole time..sighing softly you started to walk the place you would meet up at so you can go this big event.

You were now walking to the meet up spot all four of you had agreed on and you looked around. It was a starry night and the moon perfectly illuminated your skin.The air was a bit chilly but that was okay, your outfit wasn’t too revealing of the skin..maybe just a bit tight for the appeal.

Now walking up a hill you heard distant chattering, it almost sounded like whispers. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked a bit faster and only to conclude that your suspicions were right, it was the three boys you grew up with.

Putting on a soft smile, you approached them and waved.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late..I was getting ready-”

You started off almost casually as you turned you gaze fully onto them.

Suddenly, the whispering and chattering was hushed. Their eyes widened like dinner plates when they saw you and they somewhat straightened up..like they were talking about something secret..weird..

Now raising an eyebrow, you walked up to them a bit confused and even more suspicious to know what they were planning.

“Uhm..you guys okay..?”

You asked, eyeing them a bit, observing them and trying to read right through them like you always could like you were kids.

“Ah, nothing really! We were just warning Luffy about not eating all the food..as usual.”

Sabo said with a smirk, his hand making its way to your hip. You didn’t really know how to feel about the touch..

“Yeah, because as usual this idiot only thinks about food.”

Ace said with a chuckle, pulling Luffy’s cheek and watching how it stretched because of the boys devil fruit.

Blinking, you snorted and and smiled as Luffy gave a comically aggravated ‘heyy!!’ To the bullying. Nodding with a shrug you started to walk to the place where the part would be taking.

“Hey!! Don’t you dare leave without us like that!!”

Music filled your ears as the sound of footsteps became apparent to you. Everyone was partying and music was blasting. Lights were hung up on the railing of the ship as people were dancing a sone were even singing.

This was no surprise to you obviously, since they were all pirates of course, partying is what they do in most cases.

It didn’t take long before Luffy found the food table and dragged you to the food table. Sabo went off to go greet his friends from the revolutionary army while Ace went to go quickly gave a chat with Thatch.

This left you by the food table with honestly nothing to do until you suddenly felt a hand in your shoulder. Turning rather abruptly, you saw it was Marco. A blush dusted your cheeks slowly as you took in every feature of his calm face. Your heart started to beat a little faster, almost like a drum. Ever since you first met Marco through Ace you found him endearing to say the least.

Blinking a bit to regain your conscious and to not look just plain weird, you put on a smile. Looking up at him casually yet politely.

“Oh, hey Marco!..do ya need anything?..”

A smile made its way to the devil fruit users lips as he leaned closer to you. Before he could even utter a single word however..

“Hey! Hey! Y/N! Look, they have so much meat here!!”

Luffy then suddenly interrupted the both of you with. Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a sigh.

“..Yes Luffy I can see that..”

You said with a raised eyebrow, turning your head back,you expected to see Marco standing exactly where he once stood with that same calm expression but to your surprise, he wasn’t there. Almost as if he disappeared!

“..huh..?” You stuttered out, clearly confused. Looking around you then spotted Marco and Ace talking. It didn’t seem like a nice friendly chat however because Ace clearly seemed..how to put it..distress.

A worried and anxious feeling then washed over you for some reason. Why were you so concerned? Could your body already sense something bad was about to happen..? Maybe you should go over there and intervene..

You thought to yourself as you took a step forward to go to them. Just when you were about to go over there and attempt to smooth things over, two arms stretched and wrapped around around you, pulling you backwards so your back was against a comfy yet very strong chest.

Now looking over your shoulder, you saw it was Luffy! His grin was stil very apparent ok his face as his grip was so tight that you were starting to feel just a little uncomfortable..

“Uh Luffy..? I need to go talk to-”

“Nah! No ya don’t! C’mon! Let’s dance!”

He said cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dance floor before you could even reply.

You had now just gotten used to the fact that Luffy wanted your attention so right now you were dancing your thoughts away with him.

It honestly made you smile because this truly made you remember the good times of just having fun and going in adventures with him. Soon, Sabo took the lead. Wrapping his arms around your waist he gently took your hand much to your surprise and pulled you close. Luffy made a cute grossed out face but chuckled softly, going back to the food table to eat his heart away but to also keep an eye on you of course..

The moonlight perfectly contrasted on his blond shiny hair that reminded you of the cook you met that was on Luffy’s crew. His name also started with an S..what was his name?-

While you were lost in thought, you caught sight of Ace in the corner with Marco. Wait..what on earth are they doing?! Or actually what is Ace doing?!-

Again your thought was cut off by Sabo spinning you around and hugging your body close to his chest. Blinking your looked up at him, taking in all the features you could.his scar on his right eye..his hat..the small stain of blood on his breast pocket..

Wait.

There was now screaming, the scream of shock with a hint of fear you make when someone was severely injured or they had died.

Now in a fast movement you felt Sabo quickly pull you away fro the area the whole party was taking place.

Just in another swift and quick motion Ace and Luffy were beside you and Ace’s hand was rested in your shoulder, clearly not going to move even if you made a fuss about it.

“Wait..what’s happening over there??..why is everyone screaming and why are we leaving so soon..?” You asked, looking around, desperately trying to finally get sone answers from these three pirates you grew up with.

Your asking of questions only earned a few chuckles and some snickers that made you feel uneasy to here..

“Oh don’t worry about it firefly..there was just an emergency at the party..it was best if we left..”

Ace said with a smirk as he walked by you, still keeping his arm around your shoulders protectively while his two brothers followed behind with big smiles.

As you went home with them, they just couldn’t stop asking you to come with one of them and choose a life of piracy..

You know it would so much fun if you joined even just one of us!

C’mon it’ll be fun..you know we’ll keep ya safe..no matter what.

Let’s at least walk you home Y/N..you know how dangerous it is at night..!

You almost rolled your eyes. Yeah, this was nothing new as far as you could see..

Maybe an accident that wasn’t so bad really did happen at the party.

Maybe it was better for you to leave..

You don’t know the answer to everything that happened, but you do know that they would ALWAYS be possessive over you.

Hey guysss!! I’m sorry I’m posting this so late!! But thank you sm to whoever requested this! I would’ve posted this sooner but I had to enjoy my last day of break since I have to go to school tomorrow 😭😭 pray for me lmao. I’ll still make sure to post and a new chapter of ‘enchanted’ is coming soon😉

Goodnight my sweet little petals!! 🌸🌺💋

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